Racing Toward Love

By Suzanne Mitchell

Widow Fran Millen takes her daughter to the local dirt race track to ease the burden of their loss of husband and father. They are befriended by a group of buddies. As Fran begins to dae again, she finds that love can be just as messy as a late model after a race. And just as rewarding when you are in Victory Lane.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477208151

Suzanne Mitchell

Suzanne has a master’s degree in Counselor Education from the University of Central Florida. Her volunteer and work experiences have centered around helping children and families in various capacities to include advocating for abused and neglected children as well as facilitating groups at the University of Central Florida Marriage and Family Institute. She currently spends her time traveling with her husband, visiting her grown daughters, and enjoying time with her grandsons.

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© 2012 by Suzanne Mitchell. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/30/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-0814-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-0815-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012908688

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Dark clouds billowed over the horizon, and the distant rumble of thunder could be heard. Looks like we’re in for a nasty one, observed Fran Millen. She finished rinsing the last of the dishes in the sink, and then quickly washed her hands. Shutting off the water, she turned to grab a hand towel. Her daughter stood next to the stove, her deep brown eyes full of tears.

Mommy, the neighbors aren’t at home, and Coconut is stuck in his house. He might get hurt in the storm, Kailey cried. Kailey had a soft spot for animals of all kinds. The day had dawned bright and sunny, but quite humid. A perfect recipe for an April thundershower. The neighbors had gone away for the day, thinking that their dog, Coconut, was fine in his metal enclosure. Now an electrical storm was moving in, and Kailey was afraid for the white canine.

Fran’s husband, Jake, answered from the living room. If the storm gets any closer, and the neighbors haven’t come home, I’ll bring Coconut here. But I don’t want to bring a scared dog into the house to create havoc, if I don’t have to. Let’s give it another ten minutes or so. Fran could see the ominous clouds tumbling ever closer. Even in the short moments during this exchange, she could see lightning in the threatening skies. I think the storm is intensifying pretty quickly, Jake. I know you aren’t fond of Coconut, but I think that if you wait any longer, the storm will be overhead. I don’t want you to be out in all that lightning.

Daddy, please go get Coconut, Kailey chimed in.

I will wait five minutes, stated Jake firmly. Then I will get the dog, if I have to.

Fran recognized the stubborn tone that crept into Jake’s voice. When Kailey opened her mouth to protest, Fran laid a finger across her lips. We’ll just have to wait, she said.

The sound of the thunder changed. What had previously been a roll became sinister cracks, with tendrils of lightning the causative whips. Bolts of electricity leapt and danced all around. Kailey was frantic. Daddy, Coconut is going to die. He’s stuck in that metal house! You have to go get him!

Oh, all right, huffed Jake. He stalked to the sliding glass door. Be ready to open that door as soon as I am back in our yard! he instructed.

Wait, Jake, I don’t think this is a good idea. It’s too late… Fran’s voice trailed off as Jake whisked himself out into the raging fury of the thunderstorm.

Kailey kept her hand on the door handle, ready for the return. Fran stood just behind her. Fran’s heart accelerated exponentially with each resounding boom from the heavens. The torrential rain made it difficult to see even into the next yard, and the roar of the wild weather drowned out the wet dog’s frenetic barks.

Jake sprinted past the looming hulk of the backyard swing set toward the chain link enclosure containing the frightened animal. Stinging rain lashed his face, and the wind whipped all around. He reached for the latch…

An ear-splitting crash, followed by horrified screams rent the air. Kailey’s body shook, and her dark eyes protruded with alarm and terror. Fran immediately switched off her emotions, and went into crisis mode. Kailey, call 911, tell them your father has been hit by lightning, and needs an ambulance. Fran grabbed Kailey’s shoulders, turning her toward the living room, and gave her a shove to get her moving. Once she saw Kailey dialing, she ran outside to attend to Jake. Another blinding flash make her realize that she was risking her life. She dodged back inside. Kailey was still talking on the phone. Fran stared out at Jake’s prone body. Please God, she pleaded, Please don’t let Jake die.

You look quite nice in that shirt, Fran, Danny complimented the woman at his side. The innocent remark drew the men’s gazes to the petite brunette, mostly to the cleavage displayed by the deep vee neckline of her orange T-shirt. For a small woman, Fran was well-endowed.

Thanks, Danny, she simpered. You should see me in a short skirt and high heels! Her eyes slewed in his direction, and a mysterious smile curved her lips. I’m a killer.

I bet you are, agreed Carson from Fran’s other side. I think you’ve been hiding a bad girl underneath that just-one-of-the-guys exterior. You’re secretly planning to seduce us all, aren’t you? He gave a good-natured grin, obviously enjoying teasing Fran. The mysterious smile went from Cheshire Cat style to cat in the creampot.

Yeah, followed Tim Fontana enthusiastically, usually you wear those tent T-shirts, but this one really shows you off! I wouldn’t mind if you seduced me, and let me get my hands inside that top or under a short skirt.

Six pairs of eyes shot to the blue-collar Italian man guzzling a beer. He was rather past the tipsy stage, making him more crass than usual. Still, Fran was offended that the pleasant banter had become something vulgar. That was a bit over the line, Tim. I’m not easy, responded Fran quietly.

Tim looked surprised, and then his brows knit in a scowl. Oh, excuse me, Carson can talk about seduction, but I’m over the line?! I propose a bet, Tim announced. Just a little something to teach Fran what kind of men we are.

Fran Millen took another sip of wine and looked around the table. The guys all gazed back expectantly. You know, you boys get a bit silly when you drink, she said. I don’t think I want to be involved in any bets you guys come up with.

"Oh, Fran’s too practical for us. She throws out a comment, and then when we run with it, she doesn’t want to get involved. Fran, you didn’t even wait to hear the