In the Groove by Pamela Britton

firesuit catching on the hooks for the window netting. And Lance didn't need to be told what his crew chief's unspoken words were: You should still be able to drive it.
    "There's loose and there's loose," Lance said, leaning up against his car, his firesuit and the humid day making him feel like a caterpillar wrapped up in a cocoon.
    "We've tried everything we can," Allen said. "I don't know what else to do."
    "Too bad," Lance said, feeling edgy. "Because when this car is loose, it's really loose and when it's tight, it's really tight. There's no in-between."
    Allen and Blain exchanged looks. Lance shook his head and walked away.
    "Lance, wait," his car owner said.
    "I can't," Lance said, walking toward the hauler. He wanted out of his firesuit; the high collar all but choked him. "Courtney set up an interview for me."
    "The interview's not for another half hour," Blain said, stopping him right in the middle of the road between the garages and the haulers.
    Lance should have known their PR gal had filled Blain in on his media appearances. She always did.
    "Look, I don't know what's eating you today, but you gotta relax."
    Lance forced himself to meet the gaze of the man who he'd idolized for just about as long as he could remember. Blain Sanders was an icon in the racing industry, a man who'd pulled himself up from the ranks of tire changer to car owner in the fourteen years he'd been in the business. Not only was he a brilliant engine builder, he was a good man, and Blain and his wife Cece were two of the nicest people Lance had the privilege to know. Any other team owner would have tossed him out on his ear after two years of poor performances.
    And it killed him that he wasn't driving up to par.
    "You're not yourself," Blain said. "Even Cece noticed it, and she's watching from home."
    Terrific. Just as he'd thought. That ESPN camera crew had trained their lens on him just a little too close.
    "Look," Blain said. "I know you're struggling. Everyone in the garage knows it. But you've never had a problem driving crap cars in the past."
    He had in the last year.
    "You're one of those rare drivers that can make a bad car look good and a good car look excellent. But something's got you messed up here," Blain said, tapping his black hair, now liberally salted with gray hair, compliments of his first child—or so he liked to tell people. "Figure out what it is so you can start driving like the Lance I remember."
    Which was as close to an ass-chewing as Lance had ever gotten from his owner. That was the thing about racing for Blain and Cece Sanders. They were special people in the industry, which made his crap driving all the worse.
    "I'll do my best, boss."
    "Good," Blain said, patting him on the back. '"Cause I miss the wisecracking Lance of old."
    "Oh, I can still make wisecracks."
    "I don't doubt it."
    "I just hate for you to grow self-conscious about your thinning hair."
    "Very funny," said the man whose hair was every bit as thick as it'd been the day Lance had first met him.
    "I thought it was," Lance said.
    Blain shook his head, patting him on the back again. "Go." And Lance went.

    He smelled cookies.
    It was the first thing he noticed when he went up the aisle between his motor coach and the next, the driver parking area so crowded with buses and fancy RVs that it looked like a dealership. The blue-and-white Prevost next to him belonged to Sam Kennedy, NASCAR NEXTEL Cup racing's current brightest star and a man who had the good fortune to be married to a wife that cooked. Man, those cookies smelled good. Made his stomach growl.
    It was only when he opened the door that he realized the smell was coming from his motor coach, and that the person cooking them was Sarah Tingle.
    His knees went weak.
    That's exactly what seemed to happen when she straightened up from pulling a batch of cookies out of the oven, a wide smile on her face. Granted, that smile seemed a bit forced—as if she wasn't sure he'd be happy to see