Fearless

by Katie Golding

  “Oh, I get it. So Aston and Gidget get plenty of space, and we get stuffed into a teeny-tiny farmhouse?”

  “Well,” he said, peeking up at me. “We don’t want to intrude on their privacy.”

  “Oh no, we definitely couldn’t have that.” I bent down and stole a kiss from his lips; he was always so sweet to Aston, bringing her different treats every time he came over. She hadn’t even decided whether she fully liked him until he brought her a bunch of peppermint candy canes. After that, she started getting excited every time his diesel would pull up the driveway, and maybe she wasn’t the only one.

  I sat back up, fixing his hat on my head. I should’ve known better than to think I could make a clean getaway.

  “Hey, where you going?” he drawled, reaching up to pull me back down with a crooked smile that was far too tempting.

  I laughed—one kiss, one anything, was never enough, for either of us. “No, don’t you look at me that way…”

  My warnings didn’t do me any good. Billy rolled over with a devilish smirk and tackled me into the ground. I burst into laughter as he growled at my neck and tickled my sides, wrapping my legs high around his waist. He captured my lips with his kiss, his arm looping under my neck and pulling me up against him, and there had never been a more enchanting freedom: rolling around and making out with him in spring-green pastures, horses grazing nearby, like we were still teenagers dreaming of somedays and I’m gonnas.

  I may not have been a teenager anymore, but I was dreaming a little. Of the fields he’d started to speak of in the dark, of rooms in a house that would be ours and the stables where our horses would sleep. The one day when we’d be ready to slow down.

  For now, he was too busy winding me up.

  Billy pulled my legs tighter around him, his jaw secure between my palms and his hands adoring me everywhere, kissing me reckless and far past rational. Denim scraped against denim, Billy crawling closer as something hard settled deliciously firm between my legs.

  “That your belt buckle?” I whispered against his lips. “Or you just happy to see me?”

  He grinned and thrust against me, earning a gasped moan from my throat. “Both.”

  I laughed and fisted my hands in his shirt, tugging his lips back to mine and kissing him twice as hard. Until a great big shadow fell over us.

  Billy pulled back with a frustrated groan and looked over his shoulder where Gidget’s nose was waiting. “What?”

  His horse huffed.

  Billy looked at me, his brow incredulous. “You believe this animal? He’s jeal—oh shit! We’re late!”

  “Huh?”

  But Billy was already leaping up from the ground, taking my hand and pulling me up, then going back for his hat. “Dinner, honey.” He stuck his hat on his head and spun me around, patting and brushing my shirt and picking grass out of my hair until he smacked me hard on the ass.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep.” Then he whistled sharp enough that I cringed, Gidget trotting over from where he’d started to graze a few feet away. “C’mere, buddy.”

  The stallion stopped next to Billy, and I audibly sighed and rolled my eyes. I hadn’t ridden double since I was a kid, and we were definitely pushing Gidget’s weight limit. But Billy just kept swearing that he knew his horse, and he was fine, and regardless, it was too late now.

  Billy boosted me up, then vaulted up himself so I was sitting in front of him. I’d also firmly explained earlier how he was doing this backward, and I should be sitting behind so he could steer and there’d be less weight on Gidget’s hindquarters. But he didn’t want to listen to me about that, either.

  “Ugh. Your horse is bony as hell,” I groaned, adjusting my seat again and mentally apologizing to my vagina on repeat. Riding bareback was uncomfortable enough, but Gidget’s high withers and overly muscled shoulders from years of dressage training made it even worse.

  Billy hugged me into his chest. “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he said. He clicked twice and urged Gidget on, the rhythm of his horse’s legs beneath us not nearly as intoxicating as Billy getting to work kissing on my shoulder. He nibbled his way up my neck, his hands roaming and teasing me despite the layers of denim between us. “Honey, you gonna drive?” he muttered into my skin after a minute. “His sense of direction is usually influenced primarily by his stomach.”

  I snorted, melting further into Billy’s chest and moaning as he tilted my head deeper to the side, roughly kissing his way up my jaw. “You were the one who was starving,” I reminded him. “And I have no idea where I’m going.”

  He groaned and made a last pass of quick kisses down my neck, my body warm and soft and eager to be naked and entangled with his again. But he pulled away with a sigh, locking his arm across my hips and taking up Gidget’s reins with the other. “All right, let’s get going.”

  It wasn’t a long walk back to the barn, but I did my best to memorize every moment of the way he felt behind me. His cologne swirling on the wind and the sun starting to flirt with the idea of setting—time like this with Billy was nearly impossible to come by.

  We’d gone home together after he’d flown to Spain, but the week in Memphis went by way too fast. Especially when he left with Mason for a two-day rodeo right in the damn middle of it.

  I’d been pissed when he first told me he was leaving again. Billy wasn’t exactly thrilled about it either, swearing up and down that he wouldn’t be going if he had another choice. But Mason didn’t ride a bull without someone from the family being there with him, Billy said. And their parents had to work but Billy didn’t, so he needed to go. He had to make sure Mason would be okay. At the very least he needed to be there to bring the body home if he wasn’t.

  I was…not thrilled. But I understood. Kinda. Though no way in hell was I going with them to Georgia with no notice and still exhausted from being gone from my own race.

  He left, and he came back, and everything was okay. But when we looked at the calendar for our upcoming races, things just kept getting worse.

  Most weeks, we had a matter of hours where we’d be in Memphis at the same time, one of us leaving while the other was coming back. But we had two whole days together this week before I had to leave for the UK, and we were taking every single second of it.

  When we made it into the barn, a blush filled my cheeks thanks to the gawking and snickering farmhands. Billy didn’t seem to care, just leading us toward Gidget’s stall. Until a woman with curly brown hair led a great white horse around the corner, and he stiffened behind me, letting go of my hips as he reached to tip up his hat. “Lorelai.”

  Ah, Lynn Hargrove’s daughter.

  And according to Billy, the first of Frank’s rodeo-racer experiments. But she was still held back in MotoA, even though Billy said it was bullshit, that it wouldn’t be long before she was racing with him and Mason in MotoPro, where she should’ve been all along.

  Lorelai stopped in place, planting a hand on her hip and scowling at him. “What are you doing? You know my mom doesn’t like people riding double.”

  I swallowed, guilt choking me as she looked in my direction, arching an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, I know,” Billy drawled, stopping Gidget and dismounting more gracefully than I expected with me in the way. “But what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, and I wouldn’t do it with any other horse. Gidget’s fine. Aren’t ya, buddy?”

  I swung my leg over, Billy’s hands steadying me as I slid down and met solid ground. Goddamn, that hurt. Next time, I was insisting on a saddle like a rational human being.

  When I turned around, Lorelai looked just as irritated with Billy as I’d been when he left for that rodeo. “That kind of attitude isn’t going to earn you any points with her, and she’s already pissed about you keeping him out all night the other week.”

  Whoops. My eyes darted to Billy.

  He’d ridden
Gidget over to my house at nearly midnight. Opened my window, tied his horse’s lead to my desk just inside, and crawled into bed with me. Wasn’t the first time, either, which was how he knew the window would be open and the desk was heavy enough to anchor Gidget.

  My mama’s getting more and more pissed about Gidget eating the roses that she planted for me when I was little. It’d be even worse if she knew he ate the plate of half-eaten dinner on my desk, because he stuck his big horse face right through the open window while Billy and I were making love, and I just…

  Billy didn’t even scold him! He just laughed and asked if we had any apples in the kitchen.

  I swear, those two… I have no words for them.

  Billy scrubbed the back of his neck at Lorelai’s warning, avoiding my eyes. “Yeah, well, Lynn wasn’t supposed to know about that, either.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Lorelai sighed, looking over at me. “You gonna introduce me to your girlfriend?”

  Billy nodded, still looking at the ground. “Yep. This is Taryn.”

  I scoffed at him, not sure why he was acting about as big as a bug, but I didn’t want any part of it. “Taryn Ledell,” I said, extending my hand to her.

  This seemed to earn me some points—not that I was keeping score—and she took my hand. “The Superbike racer.”

  I blinked, genuinely surprised she recognized me by name. “Yeah.”

  She finally smiled. “Lorelai Hargrove. But Billy’s about the only one who calls me that. Most people call me Lor or Lori.”

  Billy cleared his throat. “Unless you’re Massimo.”

  “Shut it,” Lorelai snapped.

  Billy did—hands up, lips twisting to bury a grin, but he shut his mouth. Except to mutter, “I’m, uh, I’m gonna put Gidget away. Excuse me.” He tipped his hat at us and took Gidget’s lead, walking him toward his stall.

  I squared my shoulders, turning to Lorelai and her great big mare. “Beautiful girl you’ve got here,” I offered. Neutral ground.

  “Gavenia Betis.” She beamed up at her horse. “Thank you.”

  I cocked my head. “Betis? Like the river? In Spain?”

  Lorelai’s smile stayed just as bright as she nodded at me. “Yep. But I call her Betty White.”

  I chuckled at that, reaching out to pet her mare’s brilliant snowy nose, something in me easing from the nudge of soft lips and teeth nibbling for treats.

  “So woman racer to woman racer…” Something in Lorelai’s eyes went a little sharper, but the rest of her expression was still as warm as the sun outside. “What the hell is up with your press photos?”

  It felt like I had been slapped. I probably looked like it.

  “Sorry, it’s just…” She fidgeted with the lead rope in her hand. “There’s not a lot of us out there, you know? And I’m all for women owning their sexuality and everything, but…is that really the image you want to sell? With your leathers all but unzipped to your knees?” She shook her head. “And if you do, then…okay? I just, I had to ask.”

  I nearly scoffed. It sure as hell didn’t sound like it was okay, and I damn sure didn’t feel okay about it. But who the hell was she to shame me for my press kit? Like she was fucking perfect. I knew enough about her to know she had a temper, always fighting with the guys she raced. Even if she didn’t take pictures like I did.

  No one did, really.

  My throat choked closed, my mind biting off insults my tongue wouldn’t allow, and Lorelai’s face fell.

  “Shit! I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset. Um, there’s this guy at the circuit who makes my life a living hell, and everyone thinks I’m sleeping with him because I have the ovaries to flip him off. Billy included, apparently. And even though I have a boyfriend. Etienne. We just met at Le Mans.” She shrugged, empathy pouring from her and piling up against my defensive walls, begging to be believed. “None of us are immune, I promise. It just…this sucks. But I get it, I swear I do.”

  “No, it’s fine.” I blew out a breath, checking over my shoulder, but I didn’t see Billy. Probably brushing down Gidget. “It’s just…it’s mostly my publicist. All my publicist. He’s always coming up with these poses and whispering to the photographers, and I can’t say anything.”

  Lorelai looked at me like I was as dense as I felt once I said it out loud. “Why the hell not? That’s so freaking wrong!”

  “Well…” My mind raced to come up with excuses. I didn’t even know why, other than feeling attacked and like I needed to defend myself. “Because my manufacturer rep hired him. And I don’t, you know, wanna cause problems. You know what it’s like. It’s hard enough for us to get a chance in the first place.”

  She half nodded, giving me that. “Okay, well…how’s your relationship with your rep?”

  “He’s…” Werner was… “It’s good. He’s cool.”

  Lorelai blinked at me and shook her head, but her voice was kind. “Then talk to him, Taryn. Tell him how you feel. And fire your fucking publicist. Ugh.” She pulled me in and hugged me with one arm—really squeezing me and hugging me. Then she leaned back, her hand super freaking strong on my shoulder for how petite she was. “You like clothes?”

  Yeah, she was definitely a racer. Even I was having trouble keeping up with this girl. “I guess?”

  “Well.” Lorelai tossed her curly brown hair. “I don’t know about you, but I have a major, major shopping problem after years of wearing leathers all the time. So anytime you want to borrow anything, anything, you come right over. Doesn’t even matter if I’m not here. I’ll tell my mom, and you raid my closet to your heart’s desire. Okay? We’re gonna stick together.”

  I tilted my head at her, more than a little intrigued. “What kind of clothes are we talking about exactly?”

  Lorelai’s eyes sparkled in a devilish way I knew all too well in my own soul. “Not counting the damage I just did in Paris this past weekend, let’s just start with the entire Alice + Olivia collection from 2014 and on.”

  My jaw hit the dirt. They made the cutest, sexiest clothes ever. And they were way beyond the price of what I felt comfortable spending on myself. “Oh my God, I like you!”

  Lorelai laughed, holding up her hand for a high five. “I like you, too. We’ll hang out sometime. Go riding or shopping, whatever.” She leaned a little closer. “By the way, Billy’s a pretty okay guy. But make sure he’s got his wallet before you go anywhere. He’s always forgetting it someplace.”

  A nervous chuckle bubbled up from my throat. “Thanks.”

  The cowboy in question strolled up, his hat a little lower than normal and his posture kinda slouched, like he was worried he was gonna get kicked for approaching from behind. “How am I doing?” he called out warily. “It still safe for me over there?”

  I grinned at Lorelai. She winked back, then looked at him, saying, “Depends. Got your wallet?”

  “Yeah,” he drawled, sounding offended. But he still patted his back pocket. Then his boots stuck in place like he’d been dried in cement, his face going as white as Lorelai’s horse. “Shit!”

  I burst out laughing, doubling over with the force of it.

  Lorelai cracked up with me, but still managed to yell at him, “How do you always do this?”

  “I don’t know!” He looked over his shoulder at his butt like that was gonna make his wallet appear. Then his face whipped in my direction, eyes huge. “Honey, I swear this wasn’t on purpose. I ran out the door because I was late coming to get you, and it’s right there on my dresser. I can see it…” His eyes squinted, his hand reaching out toward his imaginary dresser and his fist closing as he gritted out a growl.

  I could barely breathe for laughing. “We’re not even at the restaurant yet, and you’re already skipping the bill?”

  “I’m not!” He was so damn panicked, it just made it so much funnier. “That’s it. We’re going to the house.”

&nbs
p; “Oh no, no no no!” But my yelling was no use as Billy stalked off toward his truck, panic seizing my throat and my voice going shrill. “I’ll pay for dinner. I’ll pay for dinner!”

  Lorelai screeched, “I’m sorry, what?”

  Billy spun around, shifting his weight, all indignant. Even though the subject had already been firmly and repeatedly settled. “She hasn’t met my parents yet.”

  Lorelai glanced between me and him, dripping smugness as she drawled, “Really. Whatcha hiding, Billy?”

  “Nothing,” he bit off, gesturing toward me. “She won’t go.”

  Lorelai snorted, swiveling all her amusement my way.

  “I…have my reasons.”

  Damn straight I wouldn’t go. Meeting his parents was serious, and Billy and I had only been dating for a matter of months. Most of which was happening thousands of miles apart on the phone. And yes, he’d met my parents, but that had been a disaster.

  My mama hated him instantly, pegging him as a bull rider and swearing to his face that he looked like a silver-tongued liar. It didn’t matter how many times we explained that his ropes were hung up. She had dried my tears too many times and knew how desperately I never wanted to go back to that life. She said she didn’t trust that Billy was done riding bulls any farther than she could throw him. She barely spoke after that, just glaring at him the rest of the night.

  My father, however, was more than happy to talk bulls and racing and ranching with Billy like he was the son he never had. They swapped rodeo stories, debated the last World Series and NFL draft, then went out back to look at a section of fence or something. I swear by the time we left, my father was ready to promise my hand in holy freaking matrimony and not even trying to hide it.