Denver: A Bad Boy Romance (FMX Bros Book 3)

by Tess Oliver

  Cole had sensed that I was pissed, the second after he said it. “Didn’t mean anything by it, bro.”

  “Just because I don’t sleep with every girl who winks her lashes at me. Fuck, King, sometimes you say the stupidest damn shit.”

  “Come on, I just meant—you don’t find that many people to like, so when you do, you tend to give your heart up pretty fast.”

  I stared at him, thinking this was the first time I’d ever felt like taking a swing at the guy. “This coming from the heartsick sap who checks his fucking phone every second to see if his girlfriend has texted.”

  He put up his hands. “You’re right.” I thought he was finished, but apparently he had more to get off his chest. “But think about it—what’s she doing out here in California? If she’s a professional musician, it seems like she would be required to travel a lot. Trust me, no one knows that better than me. Just don’t want you to end up on the short side of the string.”

  “Yeah, you can stop your lecture, Mom. I’m just having a good time, and so is she. So, don’t worry your pretty little head about me and keep watch over your own balls.”

  Cole raised up a hand. “You’re right. I’ll keep my mouth shut about it from now on. See you out at the ramp.”

  I headed to the garage feeling just a little less like riding. As pissed as Cole’s comments had made me, he’d also brought up a good point. How long would someone like Jami be hanging around the coast, living in a rundown beach house? I was going to have to take a step back and not lose my head over her. A worldly woman like Jami Holliday was, no doubt, going to bore quickly of someone like me.

  Chapter 12

  Jami

  Kensington had joined me at the chairs. She was an exceptionally pretty girl with polite manners and a great personality. She seemed perfect for Cole, and he rarely took his eyes off of her. It was sweet, and I envied them for having each other.

  Denver had come out of the garage wearing intimidating-looking motorcycle boots and gloves. A shiny white helmet wrapped with goggles was tucked under his arm. He looked a little less happy or maybe he was just concentrating on his ride.

  Rodeo was on the back wall watching the action. Kensington and I sipped beers and watched Denver kick-start his motorcycle. I was surprised at how loud it was, especially when he twisted the grip on his handlebars to warm it up.

  “Don’t know why I was expecting it to sound smoother and less fast.” I talked loudly over the motor. “I guess it takes a lot of power to get that bike to launch off the ramp.”

  Kensington’s eyes rounded. “Is this the first time you’ve seen him ride?”

  “Yes, I’m not sure what to expect.”

  She placed her hand over mine. “Try not to freak out too much. Denver is an excellent rider. He really flies through the air. Makes it look as if the bike is made of Styrofoam and filled with helium. He’s fun to watch, but it all comes with a slice of terror.” Kensington took another sip of beer and made a face. “I confess I’m more of a wine drinker.”

  “Rodeo mentioned that your father owned the grapevines on the other side of the ravine. That must have been cool growing up on a vineyard.”

  “It was. My parents love the place. I don’t think they’ll ever leave.”

  I released a long breath. “A permanent home—that would be lovely. I’ve always had to travel so much, I’ve never felt like I had a permanent home. And permanent friends were even harder to come by.”

  Denver rode off toward the opposite end of the property.

  “Sayler and I adore Denver. He is such a sweetheart and he’s so smart. He’s such a contradiction because he’s so calm and cerebral. Then he hauls off on that bike and pitches himself into the air like a wild man.”

  “Does Cole ride too?” Denver’s bike grew louder as he circled back toward us.

  “He’s still in the learning phase,” Kensington said. “But he’s good and insanely fearless. Here comes Denver.”

  I hadn’t heard Cole walk up behind us. “I’ll be putting those steaks on in ten minutes.” He walked past the chairs and stood crossed armed in front of us as he watched Denver ride toward the ramp.

  The metal clanged and the front tire rolled up the ramp. Denver was a big man and sitting on the motorcycle in his gear, he looked downright massive. A gasp caught in my throat. I stared open-mouthed as man and machine flew up off the ramp. But he didn’t just stay seated and head back down to earth. Denver’s legs came up off the foot pegs, and his long legs shot straight up in the air.

  In a rush of panic, I grabbed Kensington’s arm and watched in complete shock as Denver’s hands left the handlebars and moved temporarily back to the seat. Then, just as quickly, his hands returned to the bars. He curled his legs down toward the bike. He was back on solid seating just seconds before the bike touched back down to the dirt.

  Rodeo whistled from his wall perch.

  Cole laughed. “Like a damn ballerina.” He shook his head as he turned around. “Sometimes I wonder if that guy has trained his body to ignore all the laws of physics. It would be just like him.”

  My heart rate was just returning to normal. I gulped some beer to soothe the dryness in my throat. I could sense that Kensington was staring at the side of my face waiting for my reaction.

  I took another sip. “I did not expect that. First of all, nothing, and I mean nothing about that seems safe or sane. At the same time, it looks like the best damn fun anyone could ever have on a motorcycle.”

  Denver looked at me through his goggles as he rolled past. The helmet covered most of his face. Something about the all the gear made him seem warrior-like. I liked it. And I liked the man under the helmet. There were so many facets to him, it was hard to decide which one I liked best. Although, last night’s end to a perfect date was probably at the top of the list. A deep, sexy, daring man who knew just what to say and how to make me laugh—five weeks suddenly seemed horribly short.

  I held my breath again as Denver performed another trick. His bike flew up and the front tire kept going until he’d flipped completely around. None of it made sense with the universe. The heavy bike, the tall man, the unwieldy gear. It all seemed impossible, and yet, Denver pulled off each trick as easily as someone might jump into the deep end of a pool.

  On his fourth pass, the bike hit the ramp, and he shot up into the air. He whipped the motorcycle sideways and then smoothly brought it perpendicular with the ground. It was all beautifully choreographed as if it should be set to music. He landed with a jarring thud and an alarming few seconds of wobbling. But he straightened up quickly and rode smoothly back around.

  Rodeo hopped off the wall and walked across to meet Denver as he took off his helmet and shut down the bike. He propped the motorcycle up on a stand and sat his helmet on the seat. He scrubbed his hair back with his fingers, and it stood up in black spikes all over his head.

  I hadn’t noticed that I was fanning myself until Kensington laughed and elbowed me. “Don’t worry. Watching them ride the motorcycles gets all of us a little flushed.”

  I lowered my hand and realized she’d been right about the flush. My cheeks felt warm. “Why do you think that is? The danger? The man versus nature thing?”

  Kensington sat back with a satisfied grin. “I think it’s just that they look so damn hot in their gear. Especially when you add in that layer of sweat.”

  I stared over at Denver. He was definitely a sight in his blue motocross jersey, riding pants and boots. “You’re right. The sweat adds just that little touch of perfection.”

  She laughed.

  “What did I miss?” a girl’s voice came from behind. We turned around. Rodeo’s girlfriend, Sayler, was walking toward us. She was pretty like Kensington, but there was something more earthy and sassy about her.

  I reached up and shook her hand. “H
i, I’m Jami. We were just discussing the manly glow that a layer of sweat can produce.”

  “Yep, makes me hot every time I watch Parker ride.”

  “Parker?” I asked.

  “That’s Rodeo’s real name.” Kensington handed Sayler a beer as she sat down. “He can ride a horse as well as he can jump a motorcycle.”

  The three men walked over. Rodeo leaned down to kiss Sayler. Denver grabbed his water bottle from the cup holder in his chair and chugged it down. His throat moved with each swallow. Once again Kensington had to elbow me out of watching him.

  I covered my face for a second.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. Denver is fun to watch no matter what he’s up to.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “And he keeps a real close eye on you too.”

  “So, Denver, you hot boy toy model. You’re famous.” Sayler reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. It was a magazine page. She handed it across and Kensington and I halted its progress toward Denver and unfolded it. It was an advertisement for sports gear. There was a beautiful girl wearing a short leather skirt and tall leather boots. She was standing next to Denver as he straddled his motorcycle.

  Kensington whistled. “Wow, what a great picture.”

  Cole and Rodeo walked over and leaned in to get a look.

  “Isn’t he sweet,” Rodeo said. “Why the fuck did they comb your hair like that, dude? Reminds me of my kindergarten picture when my mom used her spit to tame down my hair.”

  Denver sat down and stretched out his long legs. He didn’t bother to look at the picture.

  “Nice,” Cole said. “Is that Britney Ogden? Haven’t seen her since—” He stopped as Kensington made a point of clearing her throat.

  Cole forced a smile. “Since I saw her at the library when I was studying how to be the world’s most romantic boyfriend.”

  “O.K. Pinocchio,” Kensington said, “stop before it grows so long it breaks off.” She tugged the picture with a little more strength than needed from Cole’s hands, and he flashed her a contrite grin. She handed it over to Denver but he shook his head.

  “I already know what I look like, and Rodeo’s right, they greased my hair down like I was some stupid little kid getting his portrait taken.”

  “Well, maybe the hair isn’t great,” Sayler piped up, “but that picture is being shared and liked all over the damn place. And it’s not because of the library girl.” She raised a brow at Cole.

  Rodeo looked over at Denver. “Man, with publicity like that, I’ll bet Crushin’ It Sports Gear will be wanting you to pose again.”

  “They’ve already called for me to come back for another round. Maybe I’ll stop jumping and just pose for corny, staged photos with greasy hair.” Denver got up with a sigh and walked over to me. He lowered his hand for me to take. “Come on. I’ll take you for a tour of the place.”

  “Steaks are almost done,” Cole called as Denver led me away from the circle of chairs.

  “I’ll try not to get us lost,” Denver called back.

  “This is an immense piece of property,” I noted as we headed past the house and beyond the dirt track where we’d seen Rodeo riding when we walked in.

  “Nicky King was planning to start a vineyard, but he never got the idea off the ground. Cole moved out here when the construction company landed a contract to build a casino nearby.”

  We walked along the side of the house and to a garden where a row of white rose bushes lined a brick path. An old, rusted gazebo was holding onto its last signs of life. It seemed one strong wind gust would put it out of its misery.

  We walked up the rickety steps and stood inside of it. More than one plant had decided to climb and claw its way up the rod iron railing.

  I drew my gaze around the structure. “This looks like a forgotten relic, yet it oozes charm.”

  “Thought you might like it. You can see all the way across to the vineyards.”

  I walked to the edge where I could see clear across to the neatly planted rows of grapevines. “By the way, I had no idea what to expect when you were jumping.” I turned back to him. “Scared me half to death. What compels you to do it? The adrenaline rush?”

  He shrugged. A dark stubble covered the lower half of his face. The man even knew exactly the right amount of facial hair to wear. “Guess it’s the physical and mental challenge. The rush is a bonus. It gives you the sensation of flying when you’re arcing through the air, but the ground below is always that stark reminder that there are no wings on your back.” With that, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer. “Hope you don’t mind a little sweat.”

  I smiled to myself thinking about the earlier conversation with Kensington. “Why, as a matter of fact, I don’t mind . . . at all.” I turned my face up to his. “As long as you don’t mind a bit of beer breath.”

  He lowered his mouth to just above mine. “Why as a matter of fact . . .” His kiss immediately deepened, and he pulled me even tighter against him. “I’m ready to go back home and continue our date.” He reached up and pressed his hand against the side of my face. “I can’t believe how fast I’m growing used to having you in my arms.” His expression darkened some, and he dropped his hand and lessened his hold on me. “I know you told me you were out here to get away from your mom, but I realize I don’t know much else. Are you planning on living in California?”

  It wasn’t a question I’d prepared myself for. “I’m not sure what I’m doing just yet, Denver. I’ve got a lot of commitments back home, but I left there because I was so unhappy I thought I’d go mad from it.” I leaned against him. “For now, I’m just taking it day by day. But I wouldn’t blame you at all if you decided not to waste time with someone who is as stable as a puff of smoke in a strong breeze.”

  “Are you kidding, Holliday?” He wrapped his arms tighter again. “Not one second with you is a waste of time. You’re like this perpetual stream of daylight. I guess I’m asking only because I’m trying to brace myself for the day you leave and the shades get drawn.” He lowered his mouth to mine.

  Chapter 13

  Denver

  I paced the room once, a feat that took all of three steps considering my longs legs and the lack of square footage. As much as I hated to ever admit that Rodeo was right, he was right. I wasted too much of my life over thinking shit. Cole had made me question whether or not I should let myself get too wrapped up in a relationship with Jami, but I’d decided I had to chance it. I’d have to deal with the consequences later. For now, I didn’t want to miss knowing her. She was like no one else I’d ever met. And spending a short time with Jami Holliday would be better than spending a lifetime with most people.

  I swung open the front door and ran up the stairs to Jami’s place. It was still early, but I’d heard her up and about.

  She opened the door. Her violin, Stuart, was in her hand. “Howdy, neighbor.” A brilliant smile followed. She turned away, silently inviting me in. Her face whipped back toward me. “I was just warming up, but I was going out of my way to play quietly. The bow was barely whispering. Did I wake you?”

  “Nope. I’ve been up for awhile, and you may practice as long and as loud as you like. Your music isn’t noise, it’s art.”

  She had one deep dimple, and it made its usual appearance. She placed Stuart down in his case. “You always know exactly what to say to make my heart do that skippy thing.” She walked into my arms without me asking. “Of course, the skippy thing might have a lot to do with the fact that you’re dreamy. Although, I have to admit, I’m kind of missing the motocross pants and boots. And the sheen of sweat, that was a nice touch too.”

  “Maybe someone should create a spray-on sheen of sweat.”

  She tapped her chin in thought. “Don’t know if that would work. I mean, part of the draw is watching a man work up to that shee
n. If you just pick up a bottle and spray it on, it’s no better than perfume. Then there is the whole question of where the sweat would come from.”

  I laughed. “All right. I’ll scratch that one off my list of get rich quick schemes. What I came up here to ask you was—would you like to go to Hawaii for three days?”

  She blinked up at me. “Hmm, let me see—warm, sunny beaches, tropical paradise, extremely hot man—” She stopped and squinted one eye in question. “Would there be sex? I mean real good, hardcore, throw all inhibitions to the wind sex?”

  I pretended to consider the question. “Could probably work that in between the snorkeling and sipping drinks with umbrellas . . . oh, and the photo shoots. Part of the deal is I have to pose for more of those stupid ads. But they threw in a bonus by letting me bring a friend or agent as part of the deal. I have no agent. But I do have this incredibly hot neighbor who might be bored without me.”

  “When do we leave?”

  Chapter 14

  Jami

  Denver was nice enough to let me sit next to the window. I stared out at the giant trailer filled with luggage. Airport workers were loading the bags into the cargo hold on the plane next to us. Since we were only going to be in Hawaii for three days, we had both packed just enough stuff to put in a carry-on bag. I’d traveled extensively in my life and had gotten quick, easy packing and trouble-free airport visits down to an art. This, however, was my first trip without Stuart.

  I rolled my face toward Denver without lifting it from the seat. “Do you think he’ll be all right? I’ve never left him alone.”

  “You are talking about your violin, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “The attic is the perfect hiding place. The trapdoor is hidden in the closet. It’s better than a safe.”

  “What if it rains and the roof leaks?”