Racing Hearts

by Melissa West

  They stopped in front of Annie’s booth, Emery’s expression unreadable, as her gaze went past him, her eyes going wide. She said something under her breath he couldn’t quite make out and ran a hand over her face. He almost laughed until he turned around to see what had stirred her up and his eyes landed on his brothers, now almost to them.

  “Shit.”

  “Glad to see it’s not just me who finds this awkward.” Emery started away as Trip reached for her hand, stopping her. And damn it all to hell. Warmth spread through him, every nerve ending at full attention, attuned to the feel of her hand in his, its softness, the scab on her palm that had yet to heal. His eyes flicked down and then up to hers, and he knew he needed to pull away, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

  “Don’t go,” he whispered. “You should meet them formally.”

  “Why?” Emery asked, and despite her facade, he heard the hitch in her voice. Was she feeling what he felt? Like eight years of pent-up emotions had burst free, refusing to stay contained another second.

  “Because, I—”

  “Hey, brother,” Alex said, smacking Trip on the back just enough to cause him to lurch forward into Emery, her forehead connecting with his chest.

  “Ow.” She stepped back, rubbing the spot, which sent Alex into hysterics.

  “Dude, you hit his chest. Not his head or even his chin. His chest. What are you, four-eight?”

  Nick, the forever nice guy, reached out to her. “Are you okay?”

  But her eyes were on Alex. “Five-two and a half, thank you. What are you? Five-ten instead of six-two or -three like them? I bet you needed psych sessions as a kid to boost your self-esteem, didn’t you?”

  Alex grinned over at Trip. “I like her. You can keep her.”

  Emery started to bark out a retort as Trip stepped between them. “All right, then, show’s over. Emery was just asking me to help her aunt lift something heavy.”

  But when they all turned toward Annie-Jean’s booth, it became apparent that their little exchange had an audience. A large audience. Trip peered down the long row of booths, and every one of them had a town resident half-hanging over his or her table or just straight in the path, readying their gossip.

  “Christ Almighty.” He sighed heavily and eyed his brothers. “Go, please, before they publish an article in the morning Tribune.”

  Alex smirked, then spread his hands out like he was showcasing a news headline. “Sexy jockey gets it on with the Hamilton brothers. Full story on pages six and nine.’”

  Emery’s face lit with fresh rage. “Cute. You know, you really are a piece of—”

  Trip gripped Emery’s hips and spun her around, easing her toward Annie-Jean’s booth. “Yes, yes, he is, but you saying it out loud with Pastor Reagan in earshot won’t change it.” Then he focused on Nick, pleading with him to help.

  “Okay, we’ve had our fun,” Nick said, grabbing Alex around the neck and steering him away. “We’re heading to Rudy’s for the game. Come on by when you’re done.”

  Trip waved good-bye to his brothers, then stepped up in front of Annie-Jean expectantly. “All right, Ms. Annie-Jean, what did you need me to lift?”

  Annie-Jean smiled brightly as her gaze traveled between Emery and Trip. “Sorry, what did you ask?”

  “You said you needed Trip to lift something, Annie. Where is it?” Emery said.

  “Sorry,” Annie-Jean replied, still grinning. “I must have been mistaken.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Dead ringer

  “I can’t believe you didn’t call me.”

  Emery sighed heavily. “He was there for all of five seconds. I couldn’t just whip out my cell to call you. But do we really have to go in here?”

  Kate had Emery by the arm, dragging her toward Rudy’s like a kid to a dentist appointment. “Yes! They said they were going to watch a game, and Annie promised us drinks.”

  “That was hours ago. There’s no way they’re still here.”

  But by the looks of the bar as they entered, it was entirely possible they were there—along with every other person in town.

  “I’m sure they didn’t go straight here. They probably looked around the festival and then came here after, like us.”

  Just inside the bar, Emery tried to spy Trip. At the very least, maybe he wasn’t there. But as she followed her friend toward the bar, she realized she wasn’t so lucky.

  Perched on three stools in front of one of the widescreens sat Nick, Alex, and Trip. Thankfully, their eyes were all locked on the game, so maybe she and Kate could slip in without—

  “All right, just look natural,” Kate said, taking a seat all of two bar stools away from the men.

  “Could you be a little more subtle?” Emery whispered.

  Kate eyed her innocently. “This is me being subtle.”

  Before Emery could argue with her friend, a man from behind the bar stepped up in front of them and pressed his elbows into the bar, leaning toward them. “What can I get you fine ladies?” He had a nice smile and clearly spent a lot of time in the gym, but he also had that I-screw-anything-that-walks vibe.

  Kate grinned, and Emery thought she needed to get her friend a decent boyfriend before she hooked up with every guy in her path in search of the right one. “Corona with lime. Two,” Kate said, motioning between herself and Emery.

  “Coming up.”

  The bartender left, and Emery started to ask Kate how many drinks they had to have before they could leave, when she noticed Kate’s attention had shifted to the Hamilton brothers. “Who’s that?”

  Craning her neck so she could see, Emery took in the pretty blonde standing beside Trip, her hand resting delicately on his arm, a flirty smile on her face. Then she leaned in closer to the bar, pushing her arms closer together and, in effect, exposing more of her cleavage.

  A sharp pang of jealousy shot through Emery’s chest, so intense she wasn’t sure exactly what it was until she caught Kate’s expression.

  “Oh, Em.”

  “No, I’m not—”

  “We talked about this. He’s not an option.”

  Emery’s gaze shifted back to the woman and Trip’s grin back at her, and she thought she might break down right there. But then the bartender brought back their beers and returned to his leaning position directly in front of Emery. “I know you,” he said.

  “You do, huh?” she asked, telling herself she could flirt with someone else, too. She didn’t need Trip. Taking a long pull of her beer and setting it back on the bar, she matched his lean.

  “Yeah, I’m a big fan.”

  She smiled, but before she could reply, Trip stepped up beside her. “I’m sure you have something else you need to do. Right, Gage?”

  Gage straightened, a hint of worry on his face as he took in Trip standing far too close to Emery. “Right.” He smiled once more between Kate and Emery. “Y’all give me a yell if you need something else.”

  “I’ll let you know if they need something.”

  Emery glared at Trip once Gage walked way. “What the hell was that?”

  He shook his head. “What?”

  “I don’t need you running interference for me.”

  “Actually, with Gage you do. Unless STIs are your thing; then by all means, carry on.”

  “What’s your problem?”

  “Depends on the day, but right this moment it’s you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Sitting over here with Gage. You think that’s the way I want one of my jockeys behaving?”

  Rage rocketed through Emery and she stood up, getting in Trip’s face. “You don’t get to stand over there flirting with Ms. Blonde and Perfect and then pass judgment on me for talking to someone.”

  He leaned into her, lowering his voice. “I wasn’t flirting. Sam is an old friend and—”

  “Right, I know just what kind of friend you mean. It’s nice to know you haven’t been lonely the last eight years.”

  Trip’s eyes fl
ashed with anger. “You don’t know anything about what I’ve been through.”

  “You’ve been through? You—”

  “I have been a half self. Breathing, but not living. Experiencing, but not caring. I have woken up every single day with one woman’s face in my mind, only to know I couldn’t do a thing about. Don’t sit there and act like you know what’s in my head. You don’t know. You don’t have the first damn clue.”

  Emery blinked, trying and failing to calm her breathing. “I . . .” She bit her lip, and Trip’s gaze dropped, holding there like it took every bit of his willpower not to take over the job. She wanted to tell him that she’d missed him, that it had broken her in two when he left, that she was seventeen and yet that hurt had remained with her like it happened just yesterday. But they couldn’t do this—be this. Whatever this was.

  “Hey, Trip, I was just . . .”

  Trip and Emery both looked over to see the blonde standing next to them. Her eyes shifted between them, and that was when Emery realized just how closely they stood together—their bodies nearly touching. She swallowed hard and took a step back, her gaze finding the floor. She didn’t want to see Trip with this woman. With any woman.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said.

  Trip cleared his throat and sat back onto the bar stool behind him. “You didn’t. Samantha Watson, this is Emery Carlisle.”

  Emery started to say hello when Samantha’s mouth fell slack, and she stared for a long time before returning to Trip. “Emery, as in . . .”

  “Yeah,” Trip said, his tone hard, but below the surface lay something else. Something like hurt—but he left her. He didn’t get to feel hurt. He left. She stayed and waited and longed for him to return, only to have him never call. Not even after the accident. Not once did he act as though she meant anything to him, so what was this? Some mind game to pull her back under only to run away again?

  Frustrated, Emery turned back to ask Kate if they could leave, only to find the stool beside her empty. Dammit! She scanned the bar, hoping to spot her red-haired friend, and came up empty.

  “It’s really nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Emery’s head snapped up. “Sorry, what did you say?”

  Samantha offered a warm smile, and Emery felt guilty for thinking such horrible things about her earlier. It wasn’t Samantha’s fault that she was tall and blonde and too pretty to be real. “I said I’ve heard a lot about you.” She looked to Trip, as though to make sure it was okay she said that, but he just tossed up his hands and called down for Gage.

  “What’s up, man?” Gage asked.

  “My regular. Then whatever they want.” Trip motioned to Emery and Samantha, like they were all friends, but nothing about the moment felt natural. Samantha clearly knew Trip, but how well? Were they friends or more? She wanted to ask but didn’t want to come across as the jealous ex-girlfriend, especially when she’d never technically been his girlfriend. Her heart ached at the truth in her thoughts.

  Gage flashed the women his best smile, which received a prompt glare from Trip. “What?”

  “I’ll have another Corona, please,” Emery said, interrupting before Trip went all alpha on them again, and Samantha asked for the same. Silence fell over them, each second more awkward than the last. Then, unable to stand it another second, she faced Samantha. “So, how do you know Trip?”

  Samantha stared at Trip, clearly at a loss for what to say, and Emery’s stomach seeped into the floor. “Oh . . . right,” Emery said. “I really should . . .” She glanced around the bar again. Where the hell was Kate?

  Trip’s cell rang then, saving them from continuing down this path of hell, and he peered down at it, then back at the ladies. “Sorry, I need to take this.” He eyed Emery. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine; go.”

  He nodded to her, then walked outside to take the call, and Emery considered making a quick exit herself, when Samantha took Trip’s seat. “We never had what you had, if that’s what you’re wondering. I don’t think he’s ever had with anyone what he had with you.”

  Emery searched the bar for Kate again, cursing her for leaving Emery alone with this mess. Of all the conversations in the world, this had to make the top five most awkward.

  “Yeah, well, we weren’t . . . he didn’t . . . it was a long time ago.”

  Samantha cocked her head. “I don’t know.” Her gaze traveled to the door, where Trip stood, his eyes locked on Emery. “It doesn’t seem so long ago to me.”

  Emery tried to swallow and failed. What she wouldn’t give for that to be true.

  He reached them, then, his soapy scent hitting her full-on, mixing with the alcohol, making her want to take chances she shouldn’t take. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked.

  The bar buzzed with life now, packed from wall to wall, every seat filled. There was no place to go, and Triple Run liked gossip as much or more than Crestler’s Key.

  “I don’t want to talk in here.”

  “Then come for a walk with me.”

  Emery glanced to the door. “But, my friend, Kate, she’ll worry. She’s—”

  “She’s fine. See?” Trip guided Emery’s face to the left, where Kate sat with Nick and Alex, shouting at the widescreen right along with them. She couldn’t help but smile. Kate had been raised with three brothers, all very athletic, so she’d grown up wearing cleats instead of ballet shoes and helmets instead of crowns. It felt nice to see her in her element.

  “All right, then.”

  “Okay?” He stared down at her, his eyes full of warmth and memories, and she wanted to tell him she would go anywhere he asked, anytime. Just say when and show the way. But she couldn’t afford to put herself out there like that. Not again.

  “Lead the way.”

  The streets of Triple Run were quiet for the early evening, the shops all closing down around them, the air cool but not cold—just the way Trip liked it. He’d spent years working out what he’d say to Emery if he had her alone and the moment was right, and here it was. A clear night with a nearly full moon, empty sidewalks, and the quiet rustling of trees in the wind their only song. This was his opportunity to tell her everything—why he’d left, why he didn’t call, why he wanted to and why he hated himself for not being brave. But nothing about the timing felt right.

  Emery hadn’t even ridden yet. She’d just started working for him, and she hoped to re-launch her career under his name. How could he complicate all that by telling her he’d never once forgotten her?

  He couldn’t, so instead he went with the truth. “I like having you here, but at the same time, it’s . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head.

  “It’s hard.”

  “Yes. I had no right to step in when you were talking to Gage, and I’m sorry for that. But I wasn’t wrong—he’s the last guy in town you should date.”

  Emery grinned over at him. “Then who should I date in town?”

  He smirked back. “No one. Of course.”

  She laughed, swatting his arm, and without thinking, he took her hand, threaded his fingers with hers. They fell into silence as they walked, a thousand words in the air that refused to settle into logical thought. He shouldn’t be here with her, yet he couldn’t stay away, and the thought of her with someone else, especially someone in town, made him want to break something—or fall apart. He’d spent so much time trying to forget her that he’d never stopped to realize that maybe you never forgot your first love. Maybe that person stayed with you for the rest of your life.

  “You said you wanted to talk,” Emery said as they reached the bridge overlooking the Cherokee River. “What do you want to talk about?” She turned to face him, leaning up against the bridge’s railing, and hell if he didn’t want to take her right there—scoop her into his arms and say screw everything else. Just let them be together and he’d figure out the rest. But he knew that wasn’t reality, not for him and not for her.

  He took a s
mall step toward her and lifted her hand, running his thumb slowly over her palm, careful to trace each line. “I don’t want to talk. There are a lot of things I want to do with you, but talking isn’t one of them.”

  She smiled a little at the compliment and tilted her head up so she could look into his eyes. “Yet something tells me you need to talk to me.”

  He nodded. “I do, but I don’t know what to say, so how about for tonight I just walk you to your car and say good night? The rest can wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  Trip ran his hands down her arms. “For it to make sense. Right now, this, us . . . it’s . . .”

  “Complicated.”

  He stared at her, allowing himself to get lost in those big blue eyes that had taken him under their spell all those years ago. “Yes.”

  They stopped beside her Jeep, Kate outside the bar, watching them. She lifted her hand to wave her friend over, and then gave Trip one last look. “Good night, Trip.”

  Shutting her Jeep’s door, he backed away and tucked his hands into his jeans. “Good night, Emery,” he whispered.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Head start

  Emery slumped down in her chair, ignoring the sidelong look from her best friend. “What?”

  “You tell me what,” Kate said. “We have fresh lemon poppy seed muffins with lemon glaze in front of us, yet you’ve got a frown on your face. How can you frown at these muffins?” She took a bite of hers. “Yum. I swear, if you don’t start eating yours soon, I’m going to eat it for you.”

  Emery slid her plate across the table toward Kate. “Have it.”

  “Em. Seriously. What’s the matter?”

  “It’s been two weeks.” Two weeks since their walk out by the Cherokee River. Two weeks of thinking about his eyes and his hair and the way his voice sounded when it dipped down, the words spoken just for her.

  Two whole weeks with no hint of more from Trip and, to add salt to the wound, she was no closer to riding Craving Wind.

  “What’s holding you back?” Kate asked.