Speed Demons Read Online Free

indicated the painting.
    “You catch on quick. The year he came second in the Monaco Grand Prix.”
    “Your father is quite the legend in the racing world.”
    “He sure cultivates that notion, anyway.” Evie’s lips looked tense. “Don’t get me wrong. Together with Fittipaldi, Lauda, and Stewart, he was among the best of his generation. These men, they lived this larger-than-life way that consumed them. It left very little for anything else. Or anyone.”
    “Must’ve been hard for a young girl, being separated from her father during the racing season.”
    “It was, and the seasons lasted beyond the actual dates of driving.” Evie didn’t volunteer anything else, and Blythe knew when to back off. She shied away from asking about personal matters like this up front. It was easier to be inquisitive and curious through the lens of her camera. It showed the truth better than words did.
    Evie motioned haphazardly around her. “Want to see the rest?”
    “It’s a beautiful house, so yes, I’d love to.”
    “No pictures, though.” Evie glanced at Blythe’s camera bag.
    “Of course not.” Reluctantly, she put the bag down on an upholstered chair in the corner before following Evie around the house. Each guest room was decorated in eclectic New England style, except for the items Evie’s father, the legendary Malcolm “Mad Mal” Marshall, had added.
    “This is my favorite part of the house.” Evie opened the door to a large deck that stretched the entire length of the back of the house. “Damn, it’s windy, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, those clouds don’t look too promising.” Blythe was impressed with the view, but the black clouds growing at the horizon left her feeling uneasy. “Still, I can understand why you like it out here. What a view of the ocean.”
    “I never get tired of it.”
    They stood on the deck, Blythe acutely aware of Evie’s unwavering gaze as they talked about the view and the history of the house.
    “Honestly, I prefer my own beach house in Pawleys Island,” Evie said, holding the door open for them to get back inside. “This house has…too many memories and it’s still my father’s, not mine.”
    “I see what you mean.” Blythe remembered her first condo, a small loft that she actually still owned, but sublet to an employee. “You strike me as a very private person. In fact, you did from the beginning. I’m grateful that you’ve let me and my camera in.”
    “Honestly, I’m not sure if I’ve made a mistake.” She walked ahead of Blythe into the kitchen. “Can I offer you something to drink?”
    “Just some water, please.” Blythe propped her hip against the counter. “How can I put your mind at ease?”
    Moving gracefully, Evie grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. As she handed one over, her fingers grazed Blythe’s. Hiding a gasp, Blythe pressed against the counter. Something had passed between them, and she couldn’t blame static electricity. Right now, her fingertips tingled and she trembled as she opened the bottle. She took a deep gulp of water.
    “I don’t know. I think it’s about me and my control issues.” Evie jumped up and sat on the kitchen island. “I’m all about that. Most drivers are. If we’re not in complete control, every tenth of a second, we could get our ass killed. Well, you know. You saw.”
    “Does this need for control spill over into your everyday life?” Interested, Blythe jumped up on the counter beside her.
    “What everyday life? I live, breathe, and eat racing.”
    “Even during your convalescence?”
    “Especially then.” Evie dangled her legs sideways. “Every day at the rehab clinic, from six a.m. to eight p.m., I followed the schedule we set up.”
    “Every day of the week?”
    “Yes.”
    “No rest? No fun?”
    “I wouldn’t have beaten the paralysis and gone through the skin-graft transplants without discipline. I had two years.”
    “Why two years?” Blythe was intrigued now. Evie looked defiant