Page 51 of The Fast Track

His dark eyes sweep over my face. “I’m glad you stayed for dinner.”

“Me too.”

We smile at each other. I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking, but I could swear he’s taken a step closer.

I turn back to the photo so I have something to focus on other than my own beating heart.

“Spotted the treasure trove, I see.” Nana Evans joins us in the living room. She smiles and straightens the Super 1 photo. “It was all so fortuitous—if my boy hadn’t stumbled across a discarded kart at the tip, we would never have gone down this road. We had no idea it existed!” She plants a loud, smacky kiss on Cameron’s cheek. “Working multiple jobs and remortgaging the house was tough, but it’s all been worth it. We’re so proud of Ron-Ron for coming up on sheer talent. Not so many of those anymore in the racing world.”

“Nan.” Cameron rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

The beaming pride on Mrs. Evans’s face and the wall-to-wall photos of young Cameron, his parents, and grandparents make me feel some kind of way. I’m simultaneously envious and I want him to succeed, all the more because of what his family has sacrificed.

After we help with cleanup, Nana Evans walks us out to where Cameron’s motorcycle is parked.

“Drive safe tomorrow,” he tells her. “And make sure Granddad doesn’t forget his meds.”

“Don’t you worry, we’ll get to Glasgow in one piece. Now you lot go on and enjoy the rest of your evening!” Mrs. Evans kisses him one more time before she toddles back toward the house.

Cameron looks after her with a soft smile on his face. He’s gentle with her, in a way I’ve never seen him.

“I like your grandparents; they’re really, really cool.”

“They are, aren’t they?” he says fondly. We watch the front door of the house close behind her.

“You’re so lucky.” Mom refuses to see anyone from Dad’s side of the family and my laolao died years ago, so the closest I get to grandmotherly presence is old episodes ofThe Golden Girls.

His eyes go soft. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No.” I shake my head. “It was so nice. I’m going to dream about that shepherd’s pie every night this week.”

“Her cooking is divine,” he says proudly. “Between me and you, I think she took a shine to you, so feel free to come around anytime.”

“Really?” It makes me all kinds of pleased to know someone so obviously important to Cameron likes me. Somewhere alongthe way, it’s become important to me that he likes me.

Because I like him. As much as I don’t want to—the irritation certainly helps fuel my aggression on-track—he’s just too damn likable, especially now I know he’s overcome as many, if not more, hurdles as I have.

His phone buzzes. A picture of Pat, hugging the world’s cutest beagle, pops up.

He ignores the call and turns back toward me. “I’m supposed to meet some of the lads at the funfair tonight. Fancy coming along?”

My eyes widen. I’d long given up hope of finding someone to go to the carnival with—it’s not really Roz’s scene, and I felt too bad about theMotor Sportsituation to twist her arm. “Seriously?!”

“I know, it’s a bit naff, but Pat’s new bird wants to go.”

“That’s not what I was gonna say at all! I love carnivals.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a surprising one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just didn’t think corny funfair rides would be your cup of tea. Though, now that I think about it, I can see you enjoying every kind of unhealthy, greasy crap there is.”

“Don’t hate until you’ve tried it.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He laughs.

How have I never noticed the way his entire face lights up when he’s having fun?