by Melissa West
“I said—”
The cart jerked to a stop again, lurching both men forward. “I heard what you said. I want to know what you meant.”
Alex made a show of gripping the seat, like he held on for his life. “Should I get out now, before I find myself in a death-by-golf-cart crash?”
“You can say whatever it is you’re here to say before I get aggravated and tell Nick about that time you got too drunk and hit on Brit.”
Alex recoiled. “She dyed her hair. I didn’t know it was her!”
Trip shrugged. “Somehow I don’t think Nick will care.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got dirt on you, too, now, so we’ll see who’s threatening who.”
“Dirt on me how?”
Alex rested back in his seat, relaxing with his newfound power. “I ran into someone this morning at Ms. Patty’s. Care to guess who?” At Trip’s glare, he continued. “That’s right—Emery Carlisle. And not only did she manhandle me into secrecy about her reasons for being in town but she acted every bit as crazy as you did in the meeting yesterday. Seems a little odd, don’t you think?”
“Don’t know what you mean. And don’t care.”
Trip parked the cart beside the barn and started to walk away as Alex matched his step, refusing to let it go. “You know exactly what I mean, and I gotta tell you, this is a bad idea. Frankly, I’m a little disappointed in you.”
“Me?” Trip spun on his brother, growing frustrated and annoyed that he had to explain himself. Again.
Alex grinned, enjoying the fact that his always-responsible big brother was being anything but responsible. But then he caught something in Trip’s expression, something like fear, and the smile slipped away. “Shit.” He took a step toward Trip, making sure no one was around. “I was just messing with you. I didn’t think you really had feelings for her. You don’t, right?”
Trip stared down the road, watching as the wind moved through the trees, causing them to stir. He didn’t want to answer his brother, didn’t want to have this damn conversation at all. Because if he opened his mouth, there were only two possible outcomes—he admitted the truth or he lied to his brother, and he made it a point to be honest with his family.
“Trip.”
Finally, he glanced over, unable to delay any longer. “Look, she’ll be here soon, and they need you up at the foaling barn.”
Alex opened his mouth, but one look from Trip had him closing it again. “All right, but just remember, this isn’t just your career you’re messing with. It’s all of us.”
“Like I could forget,” Trip murmured as he continued around to the training ring, eager to lose himself in work before Emery arrived.
Clark had Craving Wind out, getting him ready for Emery to see him, and already the horse looked like it wanted to rear and kick Clark out of the way.
“Trouble?” Trip asked as he neared.
Clark laughed. “Yeah, though by the sound of that conversation you just had, you’re in it worse than me.”
“That obvious, huh?” He didn’t look over at his assistant trainer and friend. He didn’t have to. Clark’s thoughts oozed off him, slapping Trip in the face and yelling for him to pull himself together.
“I’ve known you a long time,” Clark said, “but I’ve never seen you make a snap decision. Never once seen you act with your heart instead of your head. So what’s this really about?”
The colt walked around, seeming thankful for the men’s distraction. He’d eaten all his morning feed and had grown well in the weeks Trip had stabled him here, but he couldn’t help wondering if the horse would do better at the track.
“Ah, hell.”
Trip shook himself from his thoughts and peered over at Clark. “What?”
“Just tell me now. Is there something going on between you and Emery Carlisle? ’Cause if there is, I’d like to know now so I can start looking for a job before your father axes us all.”
Trip wasn’t sure what annoyed him more—Clark’s assumption that he’d get involved with an employee and risk all their jobs or his belief that Carter Hamilton had the final say in anything on the farm. Industries? Sure. But the farm was Trip’s, through and through, and damn if he’d allow his father to tell him what to do.
“There’s nothing going on. Damn, why can’t any of y’all believe that I’d hire a female jockey? She’s not just good. She’s the best female jockey in history. That kind of thing needs to be on my payroll.”
Clark stared at him. “So, that’s it then? Just a business decision?”
“It’s the only kind I know.”
“All right. Just make sure you keep everything on your terms.”
“What do you mean?”
Clark started toward the colt, clearly hoping to state his peace and leave before he pissed Trip off. “Well, she’s a woman, and a looker at that. She’s coming here to ask you for a job, not the other way around. She doesn’t get to make the demands, you do. Just remember that. Set the terms and keep to them.”
Trip let the advice work through his mind. Set the terms. He could do that. Hell, he hadn’t seen her in years. The spark between them could long be gone, and then it would be all too easy to treat her like every other jockey. Whose virginity he’d taken. But still. Irrelevant detail.
“Set the terms?”
“Set the terms,” Clark called back, already over to the colt. Trip wanted to step in and micromanage the situation, but Clark didn’t need Trip doing that. He was a fine trainer. This colt was just a little more complex, like the woman scheduled to arrive any moment now.
“How’s he doing?” Trip asked in an effort to change the subject.
Clark swiped his forehead with his shirtsleeve. “Stubborn as a mule.”
Trip nodded, taking in the horse. He was a rich chestnut, his mane shiny, his conformation nearly perfect. The horse trotted away from Clark, shaking his head as though to say, “Not this one again.” He watched the episode for another solid minute before walking over.
Clark backed away from the horse, giving his boss room, and instantly the colt turned, hyperaware of the new presence in his domain. Taking slow steps, Trip approached him, closer and closer, their eyes locked, until finally he stopped several yards away and lifted his arms out. He nodded for Clark to step out of the gate, then he focused back on the colt. “It’s just you and me, boy.” He took another step and the horse squealed, stepping back. Trip focused on his breathing, keeping it steady, and began to lower his arms. The horse reacted immediately, taking another step back. He didn’t trust Trip, but he wasn’t afraid of him either. That was a good thing.
There were barely any sounds on the farm just yet, everything quiet, the morning just beginning. Trip loved this point in the day, how a world of possibilities lay before him. No two days were the same on the farm, which was the very thing that made him fall in love with it all those years ago. He liked to spend time with every horse, and he had never once turned away a horse because he couldn’t train it. There was always a way.
He focused back on the animal before him, stubborn and feisty, so much like Emery, but his conformation and pedigree all but guaranteed a champion. He just needed time. Trip took one long look at him and then stepped back, showing that he would respect that time. For now.
He reached for the gate, and before he’d even turned around, he felt the change in the air. The intense gaze on his back. The increase in his heart rate.
Taking longer than necessary to close the gate, he dipped his head and drew a long breath. Set the terms, he reminded himself. And then he faced them, and it was like time had stopped and he was back there, getting introduced to her for the first time and knowing he’d just met someone who would forever impact his life. All bright smiles and caring eyes and unyielding passion. Without thinking, he started slowly toward her, unable to pull his eyes away, unable to slow his pulse.
At first glance, her features appeared harsh—black hair, ivory skin—but then you took in those huge blue eyes an
d suddenly all you could think was damn, she’s beautiful.
And she was. So damn beautiful.
Eight years had passed, yet somehow it felt like nothing more than a moment, a breath, a blink, and then she stood there in front of him again. He ached to go to her, to pull her against him and trace a hand down her face and tell her he was a fucking moron for leaving. Because damn.
But then he reached her and tipped his Stetson down and saw a wicked flicker in her eyes, and though time hadn’t aged her a bit, something had changed. She was older, more experienced—in more ways than one, if that look meant a thing.
Memories hit all at once—the first time he saw her, the first time he reached for her hand, the first time he pressed his lips to hers, unable to stay away. She was seventeen, almost eighteen, and he was twenty, the age on his mind yet not. They were so similar the small gap didn’t matter—outside of the fear of Beckett having him arrested. He smiled at the memory of them nearly getting caught, their hearts racing.
He took a second to take her in, ignoring the warning bells sounding off in his brain. He knew her face, had a thousand memories of it, had seen her in the Post article and in countless mentions of racing, and none of it, not the photos, not his memory, had done her justice.
Trip cleared his throat and stepped up to them, tipping his Stetson down with a polite smile. “Emery.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Riding for a fall
Emery tried, and failed, to keep her mouth from falling slack. She’d Googled Trip’s name the night before, unable to stop herself, and while she knew age had served him well, every expectation she had paled in comparison to the person before her. He wore faded jeans and a fitted flannel shirt that showed off his broad chest and thick biceps. Rugged cowboy boots stuck out from his jeans and an equally beaten-up cowboy hat graced his head, but even with it on, she could see his chocolate brown hair curling out at the ends. A memory hit of her hands in that hair, and she had to look away to keep from blushing. Trip was manly to the extreme. His expression, hooded and sexy. But none of that compared to watching him with the colt.
She and Kate had parked behind the stables and walked over. Kate had just begun to speak when Emery motioned for her to wait, her eyes on the training ring and the man inside it, his every move controlled—graceful. She’d never seen anything like it. They eased up to the fencing and watched, and the longer she watched, the more two things became apparent to her—the man was undoubtedly Trip . . . and the colt was hers.
“Wow, he’s gotten big. He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Emery said, nodding to the horse. The truth was, she found it easier to look at the horse than the man before her. Somehow, she never expected to feel so intimidated by Trip. Sure, they had a past, but that she could handle. What she couldn’t handle was the surge of emotions waging war inside her head and heart at the way he said her name—Emery. Like her name meant something to him, even now. Looking into his eyes was like looking into the depths of a well, dark and forever and yet, somehow, peaceful. They were mesmerizing.
And the last thing she needed distracting her in that moment. He should have aged crappy, gotten flabby and worn. Instead, he looked even better than she remembered.
Damn him!
Trip turned around, a smirk on his face, like he knew just what she was thinking and got a little more than joy from her frustration. He’d always been able to read her thoughts. “He is,” he said, then focusing back on Emery, added, “a little spirited, but a beauty all the same.”
Their eyes held, the moment drawing long, and then Emery cleared her throat and adjusted her footing, forcing Trip’s gaze to drop—and land squarely on her cane. His brow furrowed, like he couldn’t quite make sense of it, and she felt her cheeks burn. She knew this would happen. Kate had suggested she leave it in the car, but the thing had become her security blanket. Without it, she wasn’t sure she could stand tall against a man like Trip.
This time he cleared his throat, his eyes darting quickly to Kate. “And you are . . . ?”
Kate grinned, reaching out to shake his hand. “We’ve actually met once before, but it was a long time ago. Kate Littleton, teacher.” Trip’s gaze shot to Emery, and Kate laughed. “No, no. Not her teacher. Even I’m not patient enough for that.”
“Oh, really? So what do you teach?”
“Kindergarteners.”
Trip burst out laughing. “I see. So, it would require more patience to teach Emery than it does five year olds?” He laughed again, and Emery found herself gritting her teeth together to keep from blurting out just what she thought of Trip and his too-sexy laugh.
“Can I see him?” Emery asked, her tone full of aggravation despite her best efforts to hide it. Why did she have to wear her emotions on her sleeve, for all to see?
“Who, this one?” Trip replied, still chuckling a little, until he caught the determination in her face. He knew, even before she had to say a word. He crossed his arms and stood taller. “He’s a little wild right now.” His gaze fell to her cane and then quickly back up, like he’d made a mistake. “Is that a good idea?”
Emery stared back, unable to hide her hurt. After the time they’d shared, she never once thought he’d focus on her injury. That he’d be like everyone else. She held him higher than the class of people who saw her injury first, Emery second, and the disappointment was unsettling. “I’m not a cripple.”
Kate adjusted beside Emery. “Hey, Em, let’s—”
“Then what’s with the cane?” Trip shot back.
The hurt spiked, transferring into anger. “What did you say?”
“You don’t need it. So why are you using it?”
Emery’s hands balled into fists, despite her best effort to keep her emotions in check. “You don’t know a thing about me.”
“Don’t I?”
Everything about the moment felt overly raw, from their too-close stance to the intensity in their eyes. They tested each other, seeing who would falter first, and Emery had no intention of allowing it to be her.
She took a step forward, refusing to allow her cane to keep her from standing up to him. “You barely knew me then, how in the hell could you possibly know me now?”
The air sparked with tension, even the colt behind them backing away, as though he, too, wanted away from Emery’s glare. She knew her words were a lie, but she couldn’t admit the truth—that he’d known her better than she knew herself. Which made it hurt all the more when he left. Maybe she was the reason he’d left. She’d wondered that very thing too many times to count, but it didn’t matter now. Now she needed to act tough. It was easier to throw attitude at him than allow herself to feel all the things her heart wanted to feel.
“Tell yourself whatever you want,” Trip said. “But I know you, and I know this—” he motioned to the cane—”is beneath you. If you plan to work for me, then you do it without that cane.”
Emery pointed at Trip, and Kate, sensing her friend’s feistiness coming to life, darted forward, pulling Emery back. “Em, let’s look around first. Then maybe you can—”
“I want to see the colt. Now,” she said to Trip, refusing to back down. “You know as well as I do that it’s a smart decision to hire me. I’m the best female rider in—”
“Fine, have it your way. Clark?” he called, glancing over at the man. “Saddle up Prankster Pit. Let’s let Ms. High and Mighty show us what she’s got.”
Emery’s hand dropped to her side, all the blood draining from her face, her lungs refusing to take a breath. “What . . . what are you doing?”
“You’re a rider. So ride. Prove it to me.”
He was challenging her now, and she hated him all the more for it. “I don’t have to show you anything.”
Trip laughed. Laughed! “You really are something else. This is my farm, not your daddy’s, and you’ll follow my rules or you can go. Simple as that.” He crossed his arms and, unable to stop herself, Emery stepped up in front of him, refusing to accept this mean, arrogant
man in front of her. He might know her, but she knew him, too. And this wasn’t Trip.
“I can’t do that,” she said, her voice low as she lifted her head to look him in the eye. “But I will. If you know me like you think you do, then you know I will. For now, I’d like to see him.” She motioned to the horse behind them. “Please.”
Trip exhaled, his gaze locked on hers, his heart beating noticeably in his chest, and she thought maybe she’d pushed him too far, maybe he wanted her to leave, when he released another breath and with effort said, “Fine . . . after you.”
The gate seemed an eternity away with the cane in tow. Emery considered tossing it, but then, how would she stand? How would she brace herself when she reached up to stroke the colt’s mane? Rushing would only make things worse, so she took her time, sliding the cane in the dirt, then taking a step, until she reached it, ignoring the stares from both Trip and Kate. She could handle almost anything but pity, and it rolled off both of them in nauseating waves.
Trip unhooked the gate and held it open for her to step inside. Immediately, she felt the presence of the horse across from her, heard his breath rush out in uneven bursts. She remembered the white diamond shape between his eyes, the way he’d gotten up immediately after he’d been born, like he couldn’t remain still—like he was ready to run.
“What’d Sarah name him?”
Trip stopped just behind her. “Craving Wind.”
A smile spread across Emery’s face as she pictured the name at the races. “It’s perfect.”
The sound of Trip taking another step toward her hit her ears, his body undeniably close. If she leaned back, she would touch him. “It is?”
Emery turned but remained where she stood. Her five-two height left her a full head and a half below him, so she tilted her head up, squinting in the morning sun. “I saw him being born, and it was like he couldn’t wait to take off. Like his spirit yearned for the track.”
Sounds of the farm’s staff at work echoed all around them—commands from other assistant trainers managing the morning workouts, the quiet chatter from those busy in the stables. She knew she should step away from Trip before someone saw whatever this was passing between them, yet she couldn’t force her body to move.
