Speed Demons (17 page)

The satiny feel of Evie’s full lips intoxicated her, lips that now parted to let her in if she wanted, dared to. She had no defenses against Evie. She allowed her tongue to caress Evie’s lips, and when its counterpart beckoned, she responded. Caressing Evie’s tongue with hers, in long, slow movements, was like slowly sinking into the sea below the sun. Warmth engulfed her as she held on to Evie, granting her full access to her mouth. Evie moaned, and Blythe gasped.

“You’re so hot. Like fire.” She barely recognized her own voice, so husky and intense, like someone else’s. Someone passionate and greedy for the woman in her arms. “Open your mouth again, Evie.”

“Oh, God. Oh.” Evie rolled over on her back, taking Blythe with her. Evie offered her lips and she pounced on them, forgetting any shyness. Never had she felt like this from a mere kiss, or for any reason. Evie did things to her senses that she’d never even dreamed of.

She lifted her head, uncertain how long she’d been kissing Evie. Evie, in turn, gasped for air and touched her lips with her fingertips, almost reverent.

“I got swept away,” Blythe murmured. “I don’t know what happened.”

“I could probably tell you, but you’d think I was crude.” Her eyes bright, Evie gazed longingly at her. “I love how you kiss, Blythe.”

“Really?” She asked even if she could tell. Evie’s eyes shone brightly, and her clear happiness made Blythe’s throat clench. She pushed some escaped tresses of hair out of Evie’s face. “We need to stop. For now.”

“We do?” The glow faded slightly from Evie’s eyes. “You regret it.”

“No. The opposite.” She tried to explain. “Listen. I’m not used to letting anyone close. Don’t you see how I’ve lowered my guard?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sharing your bed. I’ve told you about my past. We’ve kissed.” She ran a gentle finger along one of Evie’s eyebrows. “In many ways, those are a lot of firsts.”

“You’re right.” Evie turned her head and kissed Blythe’s finger. “I’m being selfish. I suppose I could blame you for that as well. You’re too delicious. No wonder a girl gets all selfish.”

Laughing, she pushed Evie off, trying not to listen to the voice inside her that wanted to make her nervous about the next time they were in the same bed.

“What should we do today?” She tried to sound casual as she got up.

“I actually had an idea. I haven’t been to any of the variety shows in Myrtle Beach in ages. Did you ever see any of them?”

“That’s a touristy thing.” She forced her tone to sound non-committal, and definitely not snobbish. “Not a lot of the people who live here take the time.”

“Ah.” Evie rolled onto her side and propped herself on her elbow. “So, now that you don’t live here, and we can do the touristy thing if we like, what do you think?”

“Why not? Which show? As I recall it, there are a few different ones.”

“Carolina Opry is allegedly
the
one.” Evie sat up, her eyes sparkling. “It sounds like fun.”

Fun wasn’t what Blythe would’ve called it, but that had more to do about the location than the show. Looking at Evie’s exuberant expression, she would never want to be the one to willingly extinguish it. “Let’s get some breakfast and then call for tickets. It’s off season still, so I don’t think we should have a problem there.”

“Oh, good.” Bouncing out of bed, Evie hurried toward the kitchen. “This is going to be a great day.”

Blythe sighed. Walking up to the window, she pressed her forehead against the cool glass. Outside, the wind had picked up, and far in the distance, a kite was climbing. A great day, yes, but not because of any variety show in Myrtle Beach. In spite of it.

Chapter Sixteen

Had it been a mistake to go into Myrtle Beach early to have dinner before the show? They should’ve dined somewhere else, perhaps even at the house, and then gone on directly to the Carolina Opry. Strolling along the water at the new shopping area called Barefoot Landing was only slightly better than driving through the older parts. At least it hadn’t been around when Blythe lived in Myrtle Beach.

So far no one had recognized her, in her baseball cap, ponytail pulled through the back of it, and sunglasses. This was NASCAR-loving territory, and her face had been in the media quite a bit the past year. Next to her, dressed in tan chinos and a blue shirt, Blythe stopped every now and then to browse the windows of the shops along the boardwalk. Blythe probably wasn’t in the market for a new watch, some custom jewelry, or homemade fudge, but she played along, hoping the shopping would help relax her.

Blythe glanced at her, and maybe Blythe saw how concerned she was, because her expression became reassuring. “Oh, to hell with it,” Blythe said, winking at her. “I’m walking on eggshells and making you do it too. Let’s just find, what was it, Dino’s? I’m certainly in the mood for some carpaccio. And maybe some angel-hair pasta.”

Gushing with relief, she grinned. “That’s the spirit. You’re a carpaccio lover too? I always have that if I can.”

Blythe surprised her by taking her arm as they strolled to the restaurant. Inside, the welcoming maître d’ clearly recognized her as soon as she removed her cap and sunglasses, even if they had made reservations in Blythe’s name. Cordial, he didn’t let on, but quickly altered something on the computerized chart. “Ms. Pierce, a much better table, more out of the way as it were, has become available. Follow me, please.” He guided them to a corner table in the far room. Pulling out their chairs, he then handed over the menus and the wine list.

“I don’t think I should have any alcohol since I’m in training. I know it’s the weekend, but, anyway.” She placed the wine list between them. “Don’t let that keep you from enjoying a glass though.”

“That’s all right, thank you.” Blythe nodded to a young man pouring ice water. “I’m fine with the water.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” The menu was mainly for show and to hide behind. She wasn’t certain if she was concealing her face so the other patrons wouldn’t recognize her or because Blythe looked so beautiful in her blue shirt that it made her blush. Maybe both.

A middle-aged woman approached and took their orders. She listed the specials, but they knew what they wanted. Soon two large plates of carpaccio appeared before them.

She closed her eyes in total bliss. “This is one of the best carpaccios I’ve ever tasted. You happy with it?”

“Yes.” Blythe sipped her water. “This is the second time we’ve eaten out, and so far we’ve stuck to Italian food. Pasta Cosi, remember? And now Dino’s.”

“Next time we should branch out.”

Blythe swallowed and looked up. “Next time?”

“I eat out all the time during racing season. So often that I’m ready to shoot someone for a home-cooked meal.”

“I know from last year that you prefer to live in your RV, moving from racetrack to racetrack. I suppose the lack of a kitchen makes cooking limited.”

“Not just that. I mean, the kitchenette in my trailer is okay, but if I were to start cooking something, guess what? The guys would start ‘passing by’ and ‘being in the neighborhood,’ and soon I’d end up feeding everybody just to avoid playing favorites. So I don’t cook for anyone, and they certainly don’t, unless you consider hotdogs and burgers with cold beer cooking.”

Blythe’s laughter was a thoroughly pleasant sound that created a hot sensation of happiness in the center of Evie’s belly.

“I wouldn’t knock a burger every now and then, but I don’t want to live solely on them.”

Suddenly, a loud male voice behind her caused Blythe to frown and shift in her seat. “Hell, yeah! It is!”

“Trouble.” Blythe pressed her lips together and, to Evie’s shock, she shifted her grip on her steak knife. Did she intend to stab someone?

“You’re trippin’,” another male voice said. “Evangeline Marshall? Here?”

“Yeah. Over there. With that blond chick.”

“God almighty.” Evie looked at her food with regret. “And we haven’t even reached the main course yet.”

“He doesn’t sound like he’s a fan. And he’s big.” Her upper lip pulled back, Blythe watched someone’s movements. “Don’t turn around and face him.”

“Come back, Pete. Sit down. That bitch ain’t worth it.” The voice of the second man calling out seemed to quiet the voices around them.

“Fuck she is. She needs to hear what she did. That we know.” The first man, Pete, sounded infuriated and a bit drunk.

She’d had enough. No matter what Blythe said, she wouldn’t hide. She rose from the chair and whirled around. A few yards away stood a stocky man in his forties, looking like a typical tourist. Tan shorts, Myrtle Beach T-shirt, a half-open hoodie, and sandals. His wispy thin hair looked like he’d shoved his hands through it several times.

“I’m Evie Marshall. What can I do for you?”

“Not a fucking thing.” Pete was clearly not sober.

“Then I suggest that you go back to your friend and stop bothering everyone in here who just wants to enjoy the food.” She motioned to the other patrons, not taking her eyes off the man.

“You just don’t want them to hear about how you caused the biggest pileup in years, killing—” He stopped talking suddenly, his eyes shifting to something at her side.

“You were saying?” Blythe asked, and raised her camera. Flipping out the small screen, she looked intently at Pete. “I want to make sure I don’t miss anything. Isn’t today’s technology amazing? You can take stills and film with the same camera.”

“She…this woman…” He hesitated. “She…”

“Come on, Pete. Let’s go.” His companion waved frenetically. “Just drop it.”

“Really, Pete? And here I was about to document and record your slander so we’d have firsthand proof when Ms. Marshall sues you for defamation.” Blythe’s eyes sparkled.

“You heard her. Come on!” Not waiting for Pete, the other man tossed some cash on their table and headed for the door.

“May I suggest you follow suit, sir, since you seem to be outgunned, in a manner of speaking?” The maître d’ placed a hand on Pete’s arm and nudged him toward the entrance. “It’s either this, or I call the police. I’m sure you understand.”

Pete muttered something inaudible and stomped out.

Evie blinked repeatedly. What the hell had just happened? She’d been prepared to leave the restaurant for everybody else’s sake, but then Blythe suddenly stood by her side, and the management of Dino’s clearly backed her as well.

“I’m so sorry about this,” she said when the maître d’ came back. “I really am.”

“Please, Ms. Marshall, we’re the ones who are sorry. I hope you will consider having the rest of your meal now that order is restored.”

Conscious about the glances from the other dinner guests, she hesitated and glanced at Blythe, who shrugged, clearly leaving it up to her to decide.

“Hey, Evie Marshall, you got to eat. I plan to bet on you at Daytona this year.” A young man and his three friends grinned at her from across the restaurant. “You have to show them the Queen of NASCAR is back.”

The other guests yelled and applauded. Encouraging words rained on them until she relented and took her seat. Blythe sat down as well, placing her camera and the steak knife next to her plate.

She stared at Blythe. “So that’s why he looked so damn scared. You had the knife as well.”

“A nifty grip I learned in Afghanistan. A way to hold a knife alongside my camera, ready to use both, if I need to. Came in handy. No pun intended.”

“What if the police had come?”

“They would’ve had to arrest almost everyone in here. Nothing illegal about holding on to a steak knife at a restaurant that sells steaks and provides the knives.” She winked at Evie.

The dynamic had shifted between them again. Yesterday had started out with Evie losing her cool, and then Blythe had a rough time because of remembering her youth. Now the focus was back on her.

Feeling she could relax again, she finished her meal and even shared a piece of key lime pie with Blythe before asking for the check. Several of the other guests smiled warmly at them when they walked among the tables toward the entrance. The maître d’ fawned over them until they were out the door.

“What’s next?” she asked, shaking her head. “That was the weirdest thing. You were great, though. Except we have to discuss that knife thing.”

Blythe answered with mock haughtiness. “We do not have to do anything of the sort.”

“Seriously? We do. If you’re going to keep wielding swords around me—”

“Swords?” Blythe snorted. “A steak knife. You make it sound like I pulled out my favorite katana.”

“I don’t sound like anything. I saw you threaten that guy.”

“I may have pointed it at him. Very subtly. Like an intimidation.”

“I’ll say.” She put her arm around Blythe’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “Hell, you intimidated me. It wasn’t the first time. There’s something reckless about you.”

“What?” Blythe stopped walking so abruptly, Evie nearly toppled over. “I’m not reckless.”

“Unless you count climbing up into old oak trees during a hurricane.” She looked pointedly at Blythe.

“That was nothing.”

“It was too.” She couldn’t keep from laughing. They started walking again and headed for the car. The Carolina Opry wasn’t far away, and she found herself looking forward to some touristy entertainment.

*

Blythe was pleasantly surprised. Some of her more snobbish acquaintances would frown upon the variety show they’d just seen, but she’d actually enjoyed it. The performers had great voices, the chorus line had some amazing dancers, and the orchestra was well rehearsed and played like they truly loved it. The stunning costumes were the icing on the cake, but most of all, she had enjoyed Evie’s enthusiasm.

Evie looked less than pleased only once. Toward the end, the host of the show called for men and women who had been or were active in the armed forces to stand up to be applauded.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered as they clapped.

“I know it’s tradition and I truly think our men and women in service deserve this, but so do you. Your profession put you in harm’s way, to a degree where you’re still suffering the consequences.”

“For what it’s worth. Thank you.” She knew Evie meant what she said, and appreciated that she understood her assignments had taken a toll.