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down his abilities? Surely, he recognized his own talent.
    When he was out of sight, Caro turned her
attention to the new contracts. Once she announced Dell Wayne was
going to drive for them, Caro received several sponsorship offers
she had yet to consider. They weren't major offers, but a sponsor
was a sponsor. Dell would be on the racetrack in a few days, and
the more endorsements, the better. Caro was grateful her father's
lawyer was still willing to look over the contracts: but as the new
owner of the company, it was her duty to at least read through
them. She looked forward to the day when she could afford to hire
people to manage the office so she could spend more time in the
garage. She understood the mechanical end of the business better
than she did the business end.
    Caro penned acceptance letters for two new
sponsors. The contracts were small, but they were solid backing,
just what she needed if Hawkins Racing was going to make it.
Restoring the team to its former glory wasn't going to be easy, but
Caro vowed to do it. If she could get a positive cash flow going,
and perfect the new engine design she'd been working on for the
last few years, Hawkins Racing would, once again, be a respected
name in auto racing.
    A knock sounded on her door. Caro looked up,
grateful for the interruption. Russell stuck his head in.
    “The hauler is ready to go. You wanna come
talk to the crew?”
    Caro rose, dropping her pen on the desk.
“Sure. I'll be right out.” Russell nodded and shut the door behind
him. Caro raised a hand to the back of her head and checked to make
sure every strand was in place. The send-off was a race week
tradition at Hawkins Racing, begun by her father, and continued by
her. She grabbed her coveralls from the small closet behind her
desk and slipped them on over her sand-colored linen slacks and
cream-silk blouse.
    The garage door was open, the hauler parked
outside – ready to head out to Martinsville for the weekend's race.
Caro smiled at the knot of mechanics, engineers and crew members
standing beside the hauler. Most of them had been with Hawkins
Racing for years and elected to remain so after her father's death.
Some, she suspected, were hanging around to see how long it would
take for her to do a face plant – something she had no intention of
doing. Hawkins was once a respected name in racing, and Caro vowed
to do everything in her power to make it one again.
    * * * *
    “Good afternoon,” Caro greeted the gathering.
Dell turned at the sound of her voice and surprise socked him in
the gut. This was the Carolina Hawkins he remembered – except her
hair was swept up in one of those fancy knots again, exposing the
long, graceful lines of her neck. Gone was the pristine lady of the
manor. In her place stood the grease-smeared hellion who had shown
him how a carburetor worked when she was all of eight.
    A chorus of male voices returned her
greeting. Dell noted a few stepped forward to shake her hand, while
the majority hung back. Dell moved to the back of the group and
leaned his shoulders against the hauler, watching. Her Hawkins
Racing coveralls were smeared with grease, but her small-boned
hands were clean. Not a single golden strand of hair was out of
place. The coveralls hid her womanly shape as his eyes traveled
down the length of her legs to her feet. Red-tipped toes peeked
from beneath the hem. Tiny beige straps crisscrossed her foot above
her toes. He couldn't help but smile at the odd mix of class and
sass.
    She took a minute to recognize the newest
member of the pit crew – a kid named Trent who came onboard to
replace a tire carrier who did something to his ankle. Dell tuned
the explanation out, content to watch her when she wasn't watching
him.
    As she moved from one man to the other,
exchanging small talk and wishing them a safe trip and a win, Dell
listened for anything that would tell him who this woman was. Was
she the Caro he knew as a kid? Or was she Carolina, the princess