Racing Hearts

by Melissa West

  “Seven.”

  Mary Elizabeth brought their chicken salad sandwiches, and Kate took a bite from hers before saying, “I guess I have plans Thursday morning?”

  Emery smiled that pretty-please-with-sugar-on-top smile she knew worked best on Kate. She’d spent the last ten minutes trying to figure out how she would ask Kate to ride with her for moral support. Leave it to her friend to see through her ploys before she’d even conjured them. “I would owe you forever.”

  “Will there at least be some hot guys there? Cowboy hats who say things like, ‘Hello, darlin’?”

  “Um, well, I think he has two brothers, both younger, though I can’t remember their names. Maybe one of them?” Emery wondered how she would feel if Kate actually did date one of Trip’s brothers. Kate was adorable, and she knew all three brothers to be very handsome, but Kate dating a Hamilton brother would only remind her of the fact that she couldn’t.

  Kate picked up a bagel chip and popped it into her mouth, seeming satisfied. “Fine. But you’re buying lunch.”

  Emery nodded as she sunk back into her chair. “Absolutely. And what about Matt? Are you really over him?”

  “Matthew Bridges?”

  Their gazes snapped up to find Mary Elizabeth standing over them, floral tea pitcher in hand as she shook her head in disappointment. “You’re too good for him. He’s a mailman, Ms. Littleton. You should date someone from the fire department. Firemen are hot. Mailmen are so not. Maybe Chris Dickens?”

  “No chance,” Kate said. “His name contains the word di—”

  “Kate!” Emery kicked her under the table and Kate cried out, causing Mary Elizabeth to drop her pitcher and sweet tea to run everywhere. Several people nearby came over to help clean up the mess. Including half the fire department. Kate cringed as she slowly lifted her eyes to each of them, then stopped when she locked on Chris Dickens, the expression on his face revealing he’d heard every word of their conversation.

  He flashed Kate a shiny grin and edged close. “Yes, it does, which should tell you I know just what to do with that word. And I’m willing to show you Friday night if you’re willing?”

  Kate’s face went scarlet. “Um, thanks. I’ll, uh . . . think about it.”

  Emery burst out laughing, still giggling as they left Brighton’s. They walked down the sidewalk, enjoying the afternoon sun, everything about the moment easy and light, until Kate stopped and turned to Emery, biting her lip in that way she did when she wasn’t sure how to say something.

  “What?”

  “Well, there’s just one thing.”

  Emery’s eyebrows threaded together. “About Chris Dick-ens?” She laughed again. “He said he’s open for a date if you’re willing.”

  Kate smacked her arm. “Not about Chris, though . . .” She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Nah, too beefy.”

  “Then what?”

  Her friend’s eyes softened. “What are you going to do if Trip asks you to ride?”

  Fear washed over Emery, settling into the base of her spine, all the easiness from before replaced by worry. She straightened before her weak backbone dropped her to the sidewalk. She couldn’t even sit on Lemon Grass and had spent all of yesterday thinking about what she would say if Trip asked her to ride, playing out scenarios in her mind, coming up with excuse after excuse. But at the end of the day, Trip was a trainer, and he had owners counting on him to put the best jockeys on their mounts. If he trusted her enough to hire her, she couldn’t let him down.

  She started back down the sidewalk. “Then I’ll ride.”

  Trip had spent the better part of the last twenty-four hours cursing everyone in his path, but mostly himself. He replayed his conversation with Emery again and again, wondering how she’d broken through his careful facade so easily. Hadn’t he told her no? Hadn’t he been stern in his delivery?

  But this was Emery.

  He thought of the first time he’d realized he couldn’t stay away from her. They were friends, nothing more, and he’d ordered himself to be good out of respect for her father. And then one night everything changed. She had come home from a date with some loser on the football team, and the guy had kissed her, but clearly he had no clue what the hell he was doing. She laughed about the kiss as she described it in detail to Trip, their legs hanging over the second story of the barn, staring out over the farm, the night warm above. He’d looked into those amazing eyes of hers and told her she deserved to be kissed by someone who knew what he was doing. A breath passed between them, and she whispered, “Someone . . . like you?” And then his lips were on hers, and he’d spent all night answering her question, losing himself more and more with each kiss.

  Trip shook himself from the memory, angry that he’d let the one person who dropped him to his knees back into his life. He blamed Clark for losing control with the new colt. His thoughts were on other things, Trip told himself. But the truth was, he couldn’t find the will to deny her, not when he heard the break in her voice. Emery Carlisle had always been Trip’s greatest weakness. Even her name stopped him in his tracks. Now, he’d all but handed her his man card by allowing her to come to Hamilton Stables after he’d already said no. Twice! What was he thinking?

  And there was the problem—he wasn’t. Trip never thought clearly when it came to Emery. He remembered the first time she’d raced, the thrill in her eyes when she’d returned to the farm. She hadn’t won, not even close, but she was so excited no one cared. They’d celebrated her loss like she’d won the Triple Crown, and as he’d watched her laugh and dance with excitement, he knew she’d become a part of him. His thoughts, his dreams. He saw her in them. To him, she was everything.

  But then he had that dreaded talk with Mr. Sampson, followed by his mother’s death. Trip returned home to his father’s tears and that was the end of it. He left, and she never called, so their lives continued on in parallel yet separate directions. A part of the same world, but never sharing the same life. And the truth was he missed her. When the quiet overcame the noise and rain beat against the roof and nothing occupied his mind but the sound of his heart, he thought of her. Until he ordered the thought away, closing up his heart once again.

  Now, he invited this misery to his barn. What kind of suicidal shit was that? He pushed away his dark thoughts and continued on to his father’s office for their weekly meeting.

  Trip nodded to his father’s administrative assistant, Peyton. “Doing okay today?” Trip asked.

  She winked. “I am now.”

  He smiled, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to flirt with her like he should—like he would have just days before. All the things he’d once found appealing in her paled in comparison to his memory of Emery. Trip had spent eight years trying to forget her, and now he would see her again. He wondered if she looked the same, if she still wore her hair back—if her skin still smelled like wildflowers.

  Freaking hell, pull yourself together, man!

  He dropped his head and pushed through the conference room doors, his father and brother Nick already seated around the long rectangular table. Nick was the middle Hamilton brother and always early, just like their father, which virtually made him the favorite.

  It all began two years before, right after Nick’s fiancée, Brit, died. For three months, he barely got out of bed, unable to function, unable to work, unable to be the Nick they had always known. But then, one day, he showed up at the office, and it was like something had switched on in his head. He dove into work and never came up for air again. Sure, he found female comfort, but he was very private about it and very selective and never committed to anything beyond work. Though Trip dedicated himself to his work, too, he liked to think he still experienced life. Then again, he could be kidding himself.

  “Right on time, as always,” Nick said, grinning up at Trip. He had that floppy kind of blond hair and wore thin-rimmed glasses, set against a golden tan and a Crest commercial smile. He was polished, where Trip was rough.

&nbs
p; “What can I say? Creature of habit.” But the truth was Trip valued his own time far too much to ever be early for anything, but he also respected the time of others too much to be late. He was notoriously on time, to the second, whereas his youngest brother—

  The door burst open from behind him and he turned slowly, his smile widening as Alex Hamilton, the youngest of the three, came strutting in, everything about him, from his mussed hair to his open-at-the-top collar shirt, screamed carefree. Or, to their father, reckless. Alex went through careers like others went through socks—pre-vet student, professional bull rider, Starbuck’s barista. You name it, he’d done it. And while Trip certainly wasn’t the line-walking son of Nick, he had a strong business sense and an innate ability with the horses. In short, he earned his place in that meeting. Alex? It was questionable.

  Alex pulled out a chair beside him and plopped down, leaning back in the chair for good measure.

  “Late night?” Trip asked, unable to stop himself.

  Alex smirked, his green eyes sparkling. “Always.”

  The brothers all leaned in, eager to hear a good story, as Carter Hamilton cleared his throat and all three men straightened in their chairs, trying not to laugh. It was amazing how easily they became boys again when they were all together. There had been a time when they saw one another every day, but life and work kept them all busy.

  Carter opened up a folder in front of him. “All right, let’s begin with Industries. Nick?”

  Nick began his spiel about Hamilton Industries, the various land, oil, and investment companies in which they still held a significant share. Nick, at the age of twenty-six, was the VP of operations, and while his job held many responsibilities, to Carter Hamilton, the core one was to ensure that none of the other “suits” screwed up the business his father and grandfather had built. Thankfully, sales for that quarter were good, with a strong GPM, which all meant Nick could sleep peacefully for now.

  When Nick was done with his part of the meeting, Carter turned to Trip. “Now, stables?”

  Though no one expressly said that Trip ran things on the farm, everyone knew he and he alone handled that side of the business. From maintenance to financials, he had a hand in it all, which was exactly how he liked it. Trip gave a rundown of the basics—status on a barn renovation, new arrivals, entries—then added at the end, “I may have a jockey for Sarah Anderson’s colt.”

  “Oh?” Carter asked. “She’ll be pleased to hear it. Who are you going with?”

  Trip hesitated. He had considered keeping the meeting with Emery a secret, but he knew his father had an ear out for everything and would learn about it on his own. Then he would question Trip on why he’d kept the information to himself. He didn’t need the added trouble, so he drew a long breath and said, “Emery Carlisle.”

  The other men began to speak all at once. Talk of risk and falls and doubt—all the reasons this was crazy. And they were right, yet Trip couldn’t convince himself to listen. If he hadn’t listened to his own doubts, he sure wouldn’t listen to theirs.

  Trip sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the shock to die down. “Do I need to be here for this discussion or can you continue it without me? I have a broodmare foaling any minute.”

  His father leaned in closer, his hands threaded together on the table, his stare fixed on Trip. “Is this some kind of joke? Sarah expects a champion, and a champion needs an experienced rider. Forget that Emery’s female; she hasn’t been on a mount in over two years.”

  “True enough,” Trip said. “But Sarah bought that colt from her family’s farm. Emery knows him, and right now, I’m nowhere near where I should be in his training. She could help. I’m meeting with her on Thursday. I’ll make the call then.”

  Nick stared at Trip, forcing him to look over. He was the only one who knew about Trip’s feelings for Emery. The way he’d almost accepted Beckett’s offer for a permanent position, just so he could be near her—Mr. Sampson and his threats be damned. So Nick knew this situation wasn’t simple. No, it ran layers deep, each layer more coated and difficult to process than the last.

  “It’s fine,” Trip said before Nick could start his psychobabble. What did he expect Trip to say? The truth? Hell no. He couldn’t admit the truth. That he’d spoken to Emery and simply couldn’t refuse her. They wouldn’t understand. Their father and Nick were both devout businessmen, and Alex’s spirit was too wild to be swayed by a woman. Everyone in that room had been to the races, but not one of them felt it deep in his bones—not like Trip. And not like Emery. He knew plenty of riders, but he rarely talked to one he felt gave two shits about the horse beyond what it could do for them. Emery was different. She’d always been different, which was part of the problem. He’d resisted her once. How in the hell would he do it again?

  Trip realized they were waiting on him to continue. “Look, she’s been in the money in every race she’s ever run. Her performance is unmatched.”

  Alex scratched his chin. “Yeah, well, talk around Crestler’s Key is she can’t even get on a horse. Have you seen her ride?”

  Trip glared at his brother. “What are you doing in Crest-ler’s Key?”

  “Hey, women are women,” Alex said, holding up his hands. “And there are only so many in Triple Run. Man’s gotta eat. But this isn’t about me, bro, so stop changing the subject. Have you seen her ride?” He watched Trip, his eyes narrowing. “You haven’t, have you?”

  “Alex . . .” Nick warned, blowing out a breath at the same time Trip’s fists came down on the table.

  “I don’t owe anyone in this room an explanation. I’m the lead trainer for Hamilton Stables. Every trophy on that damn wall—” He jabbed a finger at the impressive display across from him—“is because of me. I don’t see any of you down there checking feed tubs at four thirty in the fucking morning. So until you’re ready to get your palms dirty, you don’t get to ask me questions. Got it?”

  Trip eyed them one by one, daring them to argue. But all they did was stare back, and then, finally, Carter spoke up. “Okay, then,” he said, his voice as calm as ever. “Emery Carlisle will ride Sarah’s colt . . . what’s his name?”

  “Craving Wind.”

  Carter nodded, letting the name settle in his mind. “Craving Wind. It’s good.”

  “It is,” Trip agreed.

  “And what about the broodmares? Are you still determined to split Hamilton Stables into breeding and training?”

  Trip heard the hesitation in his father’s voice. The same hesitation he’d heard when Trip had decided to open Hamilton Stables, but Trip had long had an interest in breeding. Not like with training, but he wanted to have his hand in all sides of horse racing. Besides, he liked the idea of being a one-stop shop for owners—buy from Hamilton Stables and train at Hamilton Stables. Trip had their trust and felt this would be an easy expansion. But of course, nothing was ever easy. What he needed was someone to manage the breeding side of the business and allow him to handle training. He would oversee both, but if he had someone he could trust . . .

  “Still my goal,” Trip answered finally. “But we’re working through some kinks. I need someone to manage it, so I can focus on training, but I’ve yet to find the right fit.”

  Alex turned to Trip, his expression unreadable. “What exactly are you looking for?”

  Trip shrugged. “Someone who understands the business, the science. Can analyze and predict the best matches, see champions even before they’re born.”

  Carter started to move on to the next topic on the agenda when Alex interrupted. “What about me?”

  “What about you?” all three men answered.

  Alex sat taller. “Look, I know y’all think I’m unwilling to do the whole hardworking Hamilton thing, but you’re wrong. I’m done with that life and ready to take my place in these meetings.” He turned to Trip, his expression serious. “I was halfway through vet school. I can do this. I know the science, but more importantly, I know you. I kn
ow what you expect and I’ll deliver.”

  All eyes fell on Trip, but he already had the stress of hiring Emery on his back. He didn’t want to add his brother to the list, and though he knew Alex to be the most intelligent of the three of them, he’d quit every time something got tough. And Trip knew it would destroy their relationship if he put all his trust in his brother only for him to pull an Alex and bolt.

  “I’ll think about it,” Trip said. Tomorrow. He had enough to think about for today.

  They wrapped things up with a reminder from Carter to return the following week, same time, even though they’d met every Wednesday for years. And then the brothers were all outside, Nick needing to catch a flight out west, Alex planning to go to some bar later, where a local band would be playing.

  “Want to get together tomorrow night for drinks?” Nick asked, before slipping into his Mercedes. Trip knew exactly why he’d asked to meet and wanted no part of it. But he knew his brother too well to hope Nick would let this go.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  Nick laughed. “Nope.”

  Trip started to turn for his truck when Alex called, “Yeah, then maybe you can tell us how Emery Carlisle really convinced you to work with her.”

  He cocked his head and tapped a finger against his lips. “You know, I think I’ve made my decision on the breeding manager position.”

  Alex’s eyes widened. “Oh, yeah?”

  “It’s a no.”

  He started for his truck as Alex shouted after him, “Dude, it was a joke. I won’t mention the name Emery Carlisle again. Just give me the job.”

  Trip smirked. “Yeah . . . I don’t think so.”

  “Come on!”

  Trip’s phone vibrated with a text from back at the barn. The mare had foaled, but Trip had to get to the races. Hesitating, he turned back to his brother. “You serious about this?”