Racing Hearts

by Melissa West

  “Thought what?” Kate asked, setting her glass on the coffee table.

  Emery stared down at the phone in her hand, the three missed calls from Trip and two text messages asking her to call him. “Thought I loved him.”

  “Oh, God, Em . . .”

  “It’s okay, really. It wasn’t meant to be.”

  Kate hiccupped, then took another long sip of her drink. “Just like me and Alex.”

  “Oh, no.” Emery gripped her hand. “I thought you went out again and it went well.”

  She blew a stray red curl from her eyes. “Yeah, if well means a guy patting you on the back and saying, ‘See you next time, champ.’”

  “He didn’t.”

  “He did. He champed me.”

  Emery clinked her glass against her friend’s. “To us, and to never falling for guys who don’t love us. I mean, I probably didn’t really love him anyway. You can’t really love someone who doesn’t love you back. Surely love doesn’t work that way.”

  Annie leaned against the wall in the family room and crossed her arms. “You are so stupid.”

  Both Emery and Kate’s heads snapped up. “What?”

  “Of course you love him, Em. And he loves you. You could see it plain on his face whenever he was around you. And now he’s called you numerous times, sent texts. I’m surprised I don’t have delivery guys pounding on my door with obnoxious floral arrangements.”

  “But he—”

  Annie tossed up her hands. “I know what he did. You’ve told me at least ten times now, but when you’ve lived as long as I have, you start seeing things in levels of importance. Seeing the truth behind actions. Don’t you see? He got angry with you for the loss because he knew what it meant. He knew you’d get pulled from that horse you loved and it tore him apart, so he lashed out. Was it right? Hell no. But he’s a man. They never act the way they should when we want them to. Their brains are installed with screwup software at birth.”

  Could Annie be right?

  The clock on the mantel hit five, and Emery’s heart stilled. Right now, Marcus was riding Craving Wind, breaking from the gate and feeling all the wonder of Craving Wind’s ability. Emery had never ridden such a horse, and she suspected neither had Marcus. But now he would, and maybe even better than she had. And Trip would be there, ready to congratulate them in the winner’s circle. Not her.

  She slumped down into the couch, pulling her ratty robe tighter around her. “I need a stronger drink.” Emery toyed with the phone in her hand, desperate to hear Trip’s voice, for him to confirm everything Annie had said, but she knew Trip. He was an amazing trainer. He wouldn’t pull her from Craving Wind unless he truly felt another jockey could do a better job.

  Annie brought a fresh round of drinks, then two, then five, and before she knew it, she and Kate were two sheets to the wind, dancing along to the Dixie Chicks’ “Cowboy Take Me Away,” blasting from the Vevo channel from Annie’s Roku. Thank God for Rokus, and the Vevo channel, and the Dixie Chicks, who knew exactly what she needed to hear. And what happened to the Dixie Chicks, anyway? Probably got screwed by some man who told them some other singer could sing about cowboys and getting taken away better than them. And who did that man think he was, telling them someone else could sing cowboys better? No one sung cowboys better than the Dixie Chicks! Even though, Emery thought, this was their only song actually about cowboys, but still! They did it best, and they didn’t need some stupid man telling them to stop!

  In fact . . .

  Emery swiped her phone off the coffee table and scrolled until she found Trip’s name, and then clicked the little Phone icon and then Speaker, ’cause she wasn’t 100 percent sure she could hold the phone steady against her ear. The phone rang two and a half times before—

  “Emery?”

  “You can’t tell me not to sing about cowboys.”

  “Um . . . okay.”

  “And just because they only wrote the one song about cowboys doesn’t mean they aren’t experts on cowboys. One doesn’t mean a thing. They are experts. They’re the best at cowboys.”

  “Yeah!” Kate called out for emphasis. “The best!”

  “Emery, how much have you had to drink?”

  “We’re not talking about drinking. We’re talking about cowboys, and how you men try to tell us we can’t do it. But we can. And the Dixie Chicks can. And, and . . . I can.” A strangled cry broke from her lips, and if not for the alcohol, Emery would have screamed at herself. But there was no stopping this. “You didn’t believe in me.”

  Her cry was met with a moment of silence; then he said, “You’re wrong. No one believes in you like I do. I can’t take back what’s happened, and I won’t blame you if you never forgive me. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, and no matter who you race for, no matter whose colors you wear, I’ll be rooting for you.”

  Emery hung up before she did something stupid, like confess how much she missed him. Or, worse, how much she loved him. Because loving someone who didn’t believe in you was worse than loving no one at all. And despite what he’d said, she knew how he really felt. She set her phone down and peered up to find both Annie and Kate staring at her.

  “Em . . .”

  “Stop,” Emery said, holding up a hand and nearly knocking herself off balance.

  “Annie’s right. He loves you.”

  Emery fell back against the couch, her eyes on the Dixie Chicks, her mind on only one cowboy. “No. If he loved me, he would have told me the truth. He wouldn’t have let me find out from Marcus the asshole. I’m just a silly girl who fell for the wrong man. Twice!”

  Only he didn’t feel like the wrong man. He got her, understood what made her tick, and that alone was enough to make her wish to be with him for the rest of her life. But him seeing her wasn’t the same thing as him loving her. Love was putting a person first, protecting her, and being honest even when it was hard.

  “All right, enough of this,” Annie said, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’m not nursing two drunks. Sober up. We’re going out.”

  Kate fist pumped the air. “Yes! Let’s go out!” Then her forehead crinkled and she turned to Annie. “But there aren’t any bars in town.”

  A glint of wickedness flashed in Emery’s aunt’s eyes. “No. But I know of one that’ll be perfect. Go get dressed.”

  Before Emery could argue—not that she was sober enough to try—Annie had them over in Triple Run, parking outside Rudy’s. “All righty, we’re here.”

  Emery craned her neck and then straightened in her seat. “I’m not going anywhere near there.”

  “Why? Trip’s at that stakes race, right? He’s not even in town. Plus, I know the owner, and he’ll give us a deal on drinks.”

  Or make virgin ones without telling us, Emery thought. But the truth was, she wanted to go inside, wanted be here in Triple Run among Trip’s people, like she was a part of his life, which was maybe the most pathetic thing she’d ever thought in her life.

  “Come on, Em,” Kate said. “It can’t be that bad, and it’s the closest bar to home. You won’t even see anyone you know.”

  Emery peered back up at the sign and then down the sidewalk, but there was no one especially out, so what was the harm? Plus, she felt bad for her aunt and her best friend, doing their best to cheer her up and her being more than a little difficult. She owed it to them to put her misery aside—or at least to go along.

  “All right, fine, but if Mama V’s in there, I’m walking.”

  “Who’s Mama V?” Annie asked as she opened the door to the bar, then stopped cold as her gaze landed on someone by the bar.

  Emery followed her glare to see Patty there, laughing with the older man behind the bar, who Emery could only assume to be Rudy. “Uh-oh, now who’s running?”

  “I don’t do running.” Annie wasn’t one to run, but she hadn’t taken a step either.

  “I heard you. But I haven’t seen you move either.”

  Annie glared at her only niece, then pushed in
front of her and strode toward the bar, and Emery thought maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to joke with her after all. Annie might be an amazing person, but like any good Southern woman, she turned into a raging bitch if pushed too far.

  With a sidelong look at Kate, Emery followed her on inside, thankful Annie chose a four-top table close to the bar but on the opposite side from Patty.

  People stood all around, watching a game on the widescreens around the room, the chatter making it hard to hear anyone else or pay attention to those around them. Which was why Emery didn’t see Alex Hamilton until he stood right in front of her.

  “Hey there,” he said, flashing a smile because this was Alex, and his face was set permanently in flirt mode. She tried not to take it personally.

  “What do you want, Alex?”

  He started to answer, but his gaze shifted to Emery’s right. “Kate.”

  “Yep. That’s my name,” Kate said.

  Alex peered from her to Emery. “You’re drunk.”

  “So, what’s it to you?” Emery and Kate said at the same time, then broke into laughter. They’d always thought the same way. Clearly that particular aspect of their friendship emerged when they were drunk.

  “It’s a lot to me,” he said, and Kate blinked, staring at him like she was seeing him for the first time. Emery rolled her eyes, wishing they’d leave and get a room or whatever, so she could drink whiskey and listen to Carrie Underwood singing about smashing in her cheating boyfriend’s truck.

  Finally, Alex pulled away from Kate, but the smile he’d used on her was still in place. She bet he used that weapon everywhere he went. Like Trip, he had the same tall, strong build and wavy brown hair, but his had streaks of blond mixed into it, setting off the flecks of gold in his green eyes. His jeans and shirt were a little too I-rolled-out-of-bed perfect, which made Emery think behind the carefree facade was a guy who genuinely cared what others thought of him.

  Unlike Trip.

  Trip was the definition of self-actualized. He knew himself, respected who that person was, and never let anyone get in the way of it. It was part of what had attracted her to him all those years ago, when she was a girl watching him learn to be the great trainer he became. Only he didn’t train like her daddy trained. He’d created his own style; a mix of others maybe, or maybe all Trip Hamilton. It was like magic watching him work. Everything about him was so—

  “Wow.”

  Her gaze snapped up to find Kate and Alex both watching her. “What?” She peered around, unsure if she’d missed something.

  “I thought it was just him.”

  “What was just him?”

  Alex’s smirk rose to take up his face, and Emery thought she didn’t really like him or his well-bred Southern charm so much.

  “Spill it already or go on.” She glared at the double shot in front of her, the amber liquid both coaxing her in and pushing her away. She couldn’t hold her whiskey and she knew it.

  “Damn, you sound exactly like him. No wonder he fell in love with you.”

  She opened her mouth to reply as she realized Annie was no longer with them. The whole town must be there now. Unable to spot her around them, she pushed off the table and stood up in her chair, scanning the room.

  “Woah!” Alex called. “Get down before you kill yourself.”

  “Emery, seriously, get down before you fall.” Kate reached out to her.

  “I’m not going to fall,” she said, finally locking in on Annie, and—crap.

  Annie stood at the bar, right beside Patty, and even from here Emery could tell the conversation wasn’t a friendly hello. Emery leaned forward to try to decipher what they were saying, and suddenly all the shots she’d had since she’d walked into Rudy’s hit at once. The room started spinning, which Emery thought was pretty damn funny until she adjusted her feet to climb back down, and instead, her stupid high heel got caught in a wooden slat in the chair. She jerked hard to break free, throwing her body off balance, and then she was falling. She had enough time to think this is going to suck, before strong arms wrapped around her, catching her in midfall.

  “Let me go, Alex,” she shouted, but then she drew a breath and her heart pressed against her ribs, desperate to get closer to the man who held her—the man whose rustic, soapy scent she would recognize anywhere.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Beating a dead horse

  Trip stared down at the woman in his arms, equal parts relieved to have her near him again and pissed that she was behaving so recklessly. “What the hell are you doing? Trying to break your neck or drink yourself into a coma?”

  “Ugh!” Emery fought against him, but he tightened his grip.

  “I’m not putting you down, so you can relax before you hurt yourself.”

  “You are infuriating!”

  He wanted to laugh but thought it really wasn’t the time. “Yeah, well, you aren’t the first to tell me that. Probably not the last.”

  “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “I called him,” Alex said to her, a hint of guilt in his voice. He was a people pleaser through and through and couldn’t stand to rock the boat. “You looked a little buzzed when you got here, and nobody comes to Rudy’s without leaving drunk, so . . .” He nodded to Trip. “Sorry, but he’d have killed me if I didn’t call him.” Then, before Emery could go off on him, he grabbed Kate’s hand. “Buy you a drink?”

  Kate beamed back, and Trip wanted to warn her that there was no point beaming in Alex’s general direction, but it was no use. Alex had that effect on women. At least until the next morning.

  The crowd seemed to thicken more and more with each passing second, and that’s when Trip finally set Emery down in her chair and peered around, his gaze connecting with far too many people for it to be a coincidence. Rudy’s was never this packed. Hell, they were all there for Trip and Emery—watching this showdown like some soap opera drama. It was a wonder old Rudy didn’t pass out popcorn to go with the show.

  Trip lowered his voice and leaned into Emery, who immediately pulled back. “I don’t need your lean. I’m over your lean. Way over. Take that lean elsewhere.”

  He fought back a smile. Damn if he didn’t love her sass. And there it was again, that word, followed by the dread in his chest that he’d lost her. Unable to help himself, he tucked her hair behind her ear. “What if I don’t want to take it elsewhere? What if there’s only one person I want to lean into?”

  She swallowed hard, her face the picture of strength despite the glassiness of her eyes. From alcohol or emotion, he couldn’t be sure. “I can’t do this.” Pushing to stand, she started away from him, only to sway on her heels, and once again he caught her.

  “Woah, lady girl,” Trip said, only to receive a sharp look that screamed screw you. “I can’t let you leave like this. We don’t have to talk about us, but you’re not leaving like this.”

  With reluctance, he steered her back to her seat and stood in front of her, his hands still on her hips, the urge to kiss her so intense he nearly did it—even if he received her wrath immediately after. How this woman had infected him so fully was a mystery to him, but if this was what it felt like to be lovesick, he didn’t want a cure. He wanted her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, you said that, but it doesn’t really change anything. Do you have any idea how I feel right now? It isn’t about the Derby. I love Craving Wind. He is my horse. Mine. I knew he was a champion the moment I saw him.” She sucked in a rattled breath and focused back on the crowd. “You took him from me. You, the person who’s supposed to care about me. The person I—”

  Gently, Trip gripped her hips, forcing her to look at him. “The person you what?”

  She hit him with her steely blue eyes. “Trusted. But I won’t make that mistake again.”

  Alex and Kate rushed up then, before Trip could work out the word he felt sure she wanted to say—the word he wanted to say, and he would, if he didn’t feel it would make things worse.<
br />
  “Y’all better get over to the bar. Annie-Jean and Patty are about to fight. Rudy’s taking bets. I swear, this town’ll bet on anything.”

  “Jesus.” Emery pushed out of her chair, glaring at Trip when he tried to steady her, so he kept close, prepared to catch her if she stumbled.

  They reached the bar, and sure enough, Annie and Patty stood nose to nose, fists clenched, shouting.

  “Annie, what the hell?” Emery said, stopping beside her. Trip could tell she was working to sober up fast so she could be there for her aunt, and he dropped that into yet another thing he adored about her—she put others first. Always.

  Annie pointed at Patty. “This lying hag is trying to out me from town!”

  “This is my town, not yours. You have Crestler’s Key. I left, like you told me to. I stayed away. You can’t move here, too. You can’t have the whole South, you selfish cow!”

  “Me a selfish cow? I didn’t betray my best friend.” This time Annie’s voice wasn’t full of hate but misery.

  Patty’s face fell. “How many times can I say I’m sorry, Annie? I am so, so sorry. I was a child then, and you’re right. I was selfish. But I’m not a girl now, and I would never do that to you again. But I’m not the only adult here, and you holding this grudge, refusing to forgive me, proves you never cared about me the way I cared about you. Because there is nothing you could have done to make me turn my back on you.”

  Patty reached behind her for her purse and disappeared through the crowd, Annie watching her go, all the fire in her replaced by sadness. “I want to go,” Annie said.

  “No,” Emery said to her aunt. “We’re not continuing this feud for another decade. She’s sorry, Annie. How can you keep hating her when you know she loves you? When you know she’s sick with guilt? Why continue hating someone you so clearly need in your life?”

  Annie shook her head, like she was trying to fight off what Emery said but couldn’t find a hole in her logic. She drew a breath and blew it out slowly. “Dammit. I hate when I’m wrong.” Then she followed Patty’s path to the door, reaching her before she slipped out. Trip and Emery watched them talk for a second, and then they hugged, and Trip had a surge of hope. If Annie could forgive Patty, then maybe, just maybe, Emery could forgive him.