Page 137 of Jackrabbit

“Yesterday, you proved that you belong here, Beauregard.” Walters had gentled her voice, and was watching Beau with soft eyes full of compassion. “In the world of racing. You knew what he needed, you stepped in like you'd been doing this all your life, and you gave it to him. The pit crew hadn't spoken to you one single time, but they listened to you because they recognized the same thing I did: Beauregard Moore belongs on that War Wagon.”

Beau didn’t know what to say, how to move, how to unclench his jaw.

A knee pressed against his thigh as Colt leaned close to Beau and lowered his voice. “Do you want to go? We can go.”

Colt’s hand slid on top of his and pushed until Beau parted his fingers, and Beau turned to look into his green eyes. Fingers slid between his and squeezed, and Beau took a breath.

We can go.

Just walk right out of the biggest opportunity Colt might ever be offered, like it was nothing. And he would, too—Beau knew that stubborn set of his mouth.

“You're not goin’ anywhere.” He squeezed Colt’s hand and held on as he turned back to Walters, who was watching them. “What do you want from me, Walters?”

“We want you as Colton Rourke's crew chief.” Colt sucked in a sharp inhale, and Walters turned a smile on him before focusing back on Beau. “For theremainder of the season, at least, though we'd gladly take you as far as Colton will go.”

Before Beau could answer, she pushed two stacks of paper toward him, one larger than the other. “We'd like you to take the week to decide.”

“And Colt?” Beau asked as Colt ran his thumb along Beau’s knuckles.

“We want Colton on our team either way, of course.” Walters tapped the smaller stack. “If you decide you don't want the position, I've provided a shortlist of retired drivers we think might be a better fit for Colton than Marcus. You might know some of them, and we'd like you to give your opinions.”

“Look, Moore.” Navarro sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “As a professional courtesy, I'm gonna tell you that you're in the promo video Overthrow plans to release. Coach supposed to be doing the handoff takes over and hops into the pits like he owns the place while the crew chief has an aneurysm? Marketing gold.”

Walters nodded. “Yes. Whether you want it or not, you're associated with the racing world again. And someone, somewhere, is going to find out who you are.”

Colt’s fingers tensed. “Can't you have them cut him out?”

“I'm afraid not.” Walters did sound regretful as she shook her head. “Overthrow doesn't work for us, and neither of you were contracted with us when they filmed. We agreed they could take whatever footage they needed. We just didn't expect…well. This.”

This was bound to happen. Beau had known, somewhere deep inside, that the more famous Colt got, the more likely it was Beau’s identity would get out. The world tilted as he considered what it was going to be like when peopleknew.

What would his crew say?

Joyce?

Would someone who used to know him seek him out?

And Sutt'sparents.Hell. They were going to see his face everywhere if they still followed racing. The face of the man who had gotten theirson—

“Beau?” Colt tugged on his hand, and Beau blinked at him. “Let’s go. They can send the contracts, and we can—we can talk.”

Beau took another breath, the ringing in his ears quieting as he squeezed Colt’s fingers again. “No. No, this is your moment, Colt. I won't take it from you. You start goin’ over your contract, and—”

“And, what?” Colt shook his head. “You think my wild ass can read through that legalese today and make sense of any of it? I can barely sit through reading a freaking menu. We need a lawyer, and I have shit to think about, too.”

When Beau didn't answer, Colt let go of his hand and turned back to the others. “We'll take the week. Can you send the contracts to my address?”

Walters pushed the list of possible crew chiefs toward Beau and pulled the other stack of papers back. “We'd prefer to send Beauregard's to his own home.”

“Well, you're not getting his address.” Colt picked up the list and reached across the table to take Beau’s tablet back. “So, you can send it to the shop, or to mine.”

Navarro was looking at them both with a smirk like she was watching her favorite kind of chaos. “That's fine. We can send it to the shop.”

“Vic.” Walters sighed when Navarro shrugged at her. “Alright. Yes. We'll send them to you at your shop.”

“Thanks.” Colt tugged Beau up, and Beau went willingly. Then Colt pushed him toward the door. He paused with his hand on Beau's back to turn and smile at the others like he'd just remembered what this meeting had been about. “Thank you for the opportunity, Ms. Navarro, Ms. Walters. You won't regret it.”

He kept pushing until Beau was in the lobby, and finally let go as they passed Theo, who waved with one hand, a phone to his ear with the other. Colt waved back, and Beau followed as he headed out of the building, over the shop, and to the parking lot.