8

 

Graham refilled his coffee mug and dumped the sweetener in, hoping the caffeine would fire up his system so he could get caught up with paperwork and go home for the night.

He dropped the plastic stick in the trash and pushed the door open from the break room, heading down the now darkened, quiet hall to his office.

Footsteps slapped the tile behind him. He looked around.

“Hey, boss.” Charlie, his crew chief, sounded weary. The season was starting to take its toll on everybody.

“Charlie.”

“Got a second?”

“Sure. Come on in.” Graham stepped into his office, the lamp on his desk the only glow lighting the room.

Goliath’s head poked up from his usual spot on the rug, and then he plopped it back down with a heavy sigh.

Graham could relate.

Charlie sank into the leather chair in front of Graham’s desk, rolling his shoulders. “Long day, huh?”

“Yeah.” It would be an even longer night if he hoped to make it out to the sanctuary tomorrow. No amount of brain scolding could convince his heart not to go.

Rori’s sweet spirit and shy manner drew him like a checkered flag. Interacting with all the precious animals was icing on the cake.

“That’s a great thing you’re doing for Ken.”

Graham nodded. So long as it was in his power to help, he would.

“I hope the time off helps and they can get back together,” Charlie drawled.

“Me, too.”

“I plan to put Shane in his place temporarily. Any objections?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Shane’ll do a good job.”

“Well, I wanted to make sure you were good with it.” Charlie stood and walked to the door, his fingers touching the knob.

Should he give Charlie a heads up, just in case Rori ever decided to accept his invitation? “Hey, Charlie.”

Charlie angled his head over a shoulder, brows arched.

“I’m hoping one of these days you’ll have a guest sitting with you on the box.”

“Wow! That’s news. When were you planning on spilling those beans?” Charlie turned back around, crossing his arms as he leaned against the door jam.

“Nothing to spill yet. Just wanted to make sure you have an extra seat available on the off chance I can talk her into coming.”

Charlie scoffed. “Off chance? What woman would turn down that invitation?”

Graham sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I know of one who has on several occasions already.”

Charlie tried to hide his surprise behind a cough and his hand, but it didn’t work.

Graham narrowed his brows, felt his jaw clenching.

“Not a problem, boss. I’ll take care of it.” Charlie recovered well. “Is this the same gal you couldn’t wait to call yesterday?”

“Yeah. Rori Harmon.”

“Rori Harmon?” Charlie’s arms unbuckled as he heaved himself away from the door. “As in the golfer’s daughter?”

The golfer’s daughter? That was news to him. She hadn’t mentioned that anyone in her family golfed. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Can’t say I ever keep up with golf. Are you referring to her mom or dad?”

“Her dad, Chris Harmon. But I’m sure it can’t be his daughter.” Worry mottled his crew chief’s forehead. Worse than during the race that Graham had been forced to watch from the box, after suffering a mild concussion from a wreck the week before.

“Why couldn’t she be his daughter?” Now Graham’s curiosity was piqued.

“Sorry, boss. Just remembered something the little lady asked me to do on my way home. Gotta go.” He practically scrambled out the door, his legs barely keeping up with his torso and arms.

Graham’s brows fused together, and his fingers tapped out a rhythm on the chair’s arm. What just happened there? What hadn’t Charlie wanted to tell him? He scooted forward and typed the golfer’s name in the search engine. Scanned the highlights. After several minutes, he stopped reading. Leather rustled as he sank back in the folds of the chair.

This golfer was Rori’s father? The guy who’d committed suicide after his divorce? The media had jumped all over that, blaming his wife for the horrendous fall of the golfing legend, the golden boy of the sport. The golfer’s wife? Rori’s mother.

No wonder Rori didn’t trust him or want him anywhere near the sanctuary. Why would she? Graham lived in the public arena, in the face of glaring media spotlight, the very people who’d emotionally crucified her mother and caused tremendous pain for her family. On top of what they had already suffered.

Graham blew out a sigh, his thumb repeatedly tapping the chair arm. Now that he knew the identity of Rori’s father and details of his death, gaining her trust, wooing her respect, might be tougher than he thought. He sipped the coffee.

How could he get her to trust him? To not despise him or the attention that came along with being connected to a racecar driver? If he was to run this race, to have any hopes of seeing the green flag wave over his wooing of Rori, he’d have to come up with a creative strategy. What? Ideas flitted through his brain.

He bolted from the chair and opened the side door that led outdoors. “Goliath, you might want to go outside and take care of business. We’re going to be here for a while.”