Free Alex's Destiny (Racing To Love) by Amy Gregory Page B

flipped him off, her middle finger remaining up as he made his exit.
    For the time being, he thought she was in better spirits, and as nothing more than a friend that was all he could do for her. It was up to Dallas to heal her.

 
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    Dallas ripped his goggles off and stared at the numbers on the stopwatch again. It matched those of the red on the tower on the track.
    He’d barely qualified. Barely.
    It had been eight days since he’d made the biggest mistake of his life by hatching the scheme that had his life falling down around him faster than a maze of dominos.
    Not bothering to screw with removing his helmet, he swung one leg over the seat and started to walk his bike back to the pits. Exhausted already, with sweat dripping down his forehead and neck, Dallas pushed the two hundred and twenty-something pound machine, in neutral, down the tunnel, trying to ignore his mechanic and the team’s manager, both men hot on his heels.
    “What the hell was that, Hunter?” His team manager yelled, even though they were mere feet apart. “Whatever you have going on in your personal life that’s playing mind-fuck games with you—fix it. Now.”
    The adrenaline running through his body due to the speed he flew over the dirt track spiked once again, but this time it was because of anger. Flinging the bike onto its designated stand in his factory pit area, Dallas grasped at his gloves, yanking them off one-by-one, then attacked the straps on his helmet with the same fierceness. He stomped into the semi, grinding his teeth as he slid the door shut hard behind him, and hoped to put a barrier between him and his bosses. Setting his helmet down on the counter, he grabbed his cell, then a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and slumped into the booth at the table. Thankfully, everyone else remained on the other side of the door. He needed the space and some quiet to settle himself.
    Pulling a long draw of the cold water helped, as did crossing his arms over his head and yanking off his sweaty jersey. Leaning back against the cool vinyl was a sudden shock, but within a second it had warmed to his skin temperature. Picking up his cell off the table, Dallas swallowed hard. He knew better than to expect a missed call, but he couldn’t help but hope. With one click the screen lit up—and he’d been right.
    Damn it.
    Why he expected her to make the first move he didn’t know. Was he acting his age? Well no, of course not. Was he acting like a man? Unfortunately in the eyes of most women, yes. But he’d hurt her, and now that a week had passed, the distance and time were making it harder and harder to make the first move. Letting out a deep breath, he took another large swig of the cold water. With his head tilted upward, he nearly choked on the water as the phone in his hand vibrated.
    A simple text—but from the right person.
    Race safe .
    Before he could stop himself, he grabbed ahold of the olive branch with both hands and hit the number one on the keypad. Her speed-dial number…her rank in his life.
    “Well, well, well…the prodigal son has blessed me with a call.”
    Dallas swallowed hard. His eyes drifted shut as the hurt in Alex’s voice, even though it was masked with sarcasm, still cut like a jagged knife through his heart. And he deserved it, every nick, every poke, every twist of the blade—he’d earned.
    “Hey.” He answered back. Unsure of himself, of his words, of why he even had called, but his finger hit the button before his brain could overrule his heart. She always called two and three times a day, every day. But Friday and Saturdays, she knew his routine down pat, knew exactly when to time a call, knew exactly when to wish him good luck, and knew exactly what to say to put him in the right mindset to race. Alex was simply his go-to girl, his rock. He hadn’t realized how much he depended on her until he’d experienced eight days of silence and withdrawal. Dallas hadn’t realized