The sun is setting. The gold and bronze colors remind me of the marigolds Jess and I planted in the garden last weekend. Jess doesn't notice the colors though, as he stares straight ahead. His shoulders are straight, his hands planted on his hips and waves of quiet confidence are rolling from him. He stands at the edge of he track not noticing the soft reddish clay as it swells around his feet. He is listening to the track, for it talks to him, demanding all of his attention like a jealous lover.

The other racers look at the track, talk among themselves and walk away. They don't interrupt Jess as he stands on the track. They don't understand what he hears. They don't know how to listen.

He turns, sees me, and a slow knowing smile spreads across his face, making it glow. He has the type of smile that starts in his eyes. The kind that can make a woman melt, especially this one. Walking toward me, he has what can only be described as a a swagger, shoulders swaying one way, hips the other. He measures just under six foot with and average build but just looking at him you can tell there is nothing average about this man. His eyes are green but I've seen them turn to a grey when he's sad and when he's angry, the burnished gold ring around the edges burns brightly.

As he draws near, he reaches out with his large calloused hand to take mine, swinging it slowly, as he pulls me with him. The texture of his hands belies the hard work he enjoys. His hands feel soft, like kid leather and the warmth reflected in his smile is felt in his touch.

His hair is the same color as mine, a warm dark brown. He keeps it shorter than style dictates so that he doesn't have to "fuss with it". The small curls which cling at the back of his neck and run errant over the top of his head, make him look younger than his 28 years.

As the night goes by, other drivers come over to talk about the track, how his race car is setup and each on, regardless of his age, seems to look up to Jess. He answers everyone honestly, the best he can, and they appreciate it. Other racers in his position don't talk to everyone, don't want to be bothered by people asking questions. Jess is different, and the amount of people that swarm over him at the end of a race is evidence of this.

When he finishes the race, win or lose, he'll look me in the eye and smile. Tell me everything I need to know without saying a word. And when a parent brings their child over to see the car and the child asks if he can sit in it. Jess will lift him up and put him in the driver's seat and talk to him as if he is the most important person Jess knows.

He's a race car driver and the man I love.