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Chapter One

I closed my eyes for just a moment, letting the smell of warm track invade my nostrils. The smell intoxicated me, engine fumes drifting from pit row tingling all of my senses.

"Krista?" I heard a voice call from several yards away.

I instantly recognized the voice as John's. Not only was he my crew chief but he was my current lover and future husband.

"Yeah?" I said, taking several steps towards him.

"You okay?"

I nodded in affirmation. He opened his arms as I easily let my self become engulfed in them.

"Tell me. Who do I have to keep my eye open for?"

"You know you have to keep them open for everyone." he said with a laugh. One glance into my face told him to keep the joking on the down low.

"All kidding aside you should watch out for this new rookie. He qualified this week first try. That's not easy to do."

I pulled away, my mouth set into a firm line.

"Name? Car? Number?"

"Name's McLean. I think he's driving for Smirnoff's. Forty-nine." John answered, his hands trailing down my arms.

I closed my eyes, smiling as sensation trailed through me.

"I'll kick his ass out there. The rookie will be sent home crying. No one's going to mess with my championship opportunities."

"That's right baby. NASCAR could use Krista Hemmings as the first female driver to win a championship. It's about damn time."

I smiled. Krista Hemmings, NASCAR champion sounded good. Great in fact. I had earned it. Three years of working myself up through the ranks until finally I gained some respect around my fellow drivers had taken all of the courage that I had built up and then some.

"Where's the rookie's garage? I want to go scope it out." I said, pushing the image of the championship trophy out of my mind.

"It's right between Johnson's and Sterling's." John said, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

"I'll be back."

Before he could object I moved past him, weaving around my own garage and into the mass of various little shops. The noise was at a deafening level, just the way I loved it. From each garage I could hear shouts of repairs and dirty jokes intermingling with various hush hush strategies.

Several minutes passed before I spotted the team colors of Johnson and Sterling. Right in middle was a smaller garage with an unfamiliar scheme. The rookie.

I inched towards it, unsure of what to do next. Spying was against NASCAR rules. If I should overhear a strategy and use it to my advantage in the next race...

"Check the shocks again Bill." a male voice said. Making a split second decision I decided to make myself known. I stepped into the doorway, my frame casting a shadow into the garage area. Everyone looked up, their eyes wide...and suspicious.

"Can we help you?" a mechanic said, wiping his greasy hands on a rag.

"I just wanted to greet the rookie." I said, my lips contorting into a half smile, half smirk.

"And who wants to meet him?" a voice called from the back of the garage. It took several seconds before the voice took the shape of an actual person. I knew the moment I saw him that he was the driver that would propel the car forward. He had a smugness about him...a typical rookie trait.

"Krista Hemmings. I drive Number 86." I said evenly. Extending my hand I stared into his dark eyes. He was a cross between the typical NASCAR bad ass and a playboy. I had to snicker just thinking how well he and Earnhardt would probably get along.

"Ahh Ms. NASCAR." he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I tossed my head back in defiance, my cold gray eyes staring into his own brown eyes.

"I just wanted to wish you luck on Sunday." I said, my voice semi-icy.

"Thanks. I won't need it." he responded, turning his back on me to share a chuckle with his crew.

"Don't be so sure." I responded. Before he turned back to face me I was gone.

____________________

"He's a pompous windbag John! How many arrogant guys do we need out on the track?" I fumed, flying down onto a folding chair.

"People have said the same thing about you. Especially your first year." John said gently. He came up behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders.

"Well I wasn't just talk. I'm action too." I said, bouncing up.

"From what I hear he's got plenty of action." John said, raising an eyebrow.

"Probably only between the sheets. He's in for a treat Sunday."

I smiled thinking about what he was in for.

A glorified beating.