He crumpled the letter and threw it across the yard, wishing it was Tommy Lowell’s cowardly neck. Maybe he couldn’t win. But one way or another, they weren’t taking him without a fight.
He just wished he knew who to swing at first.
Chapter 3
Before tonight, Sydney had been to the Covendale Speedway exactly once in her life. Her parents had dragged her to a country music festival that she’d actually ended up enjoying. The place had been packed then, with full parking lots and rows of cars lining the fields beyond the racetrack, huge crowds of people, and vendors everywhere hawking food, beer, t-shirts, and random toys and novelties.
This time the crowds were smaller, but somehow more boisterous. She’d insisted on driving herself and meeting Tommy here, in case she hated it and needed to make an excuse to leave. Now she wondered if she’d even be able to find him.
She spent a few minutes scanning the vast parking lot under the last light of the sun. There were plenty of tailgate parties going, and the scents of cooking burgers and chicken mingled with the prevailing overall atmosphere of beer. Music blared from more than one radio through open windows. A few people wandered around selling Jell-o shots in Dixie cups. She recognized several faces, but none of them belonged to Tommy or Luka.
Just as she was deciding whether to head for the main gate and hope one of them randomly walked by, someone shouted her name. She followed the sound and spotted Luka waving wildly from the front of the row, where she stood with a guy in a blue jumpsuit and a helmet under one arm that had to be her cousin. Relieved, she waved back and headed that way.
“Syd, my love.” Luka bear-hugged her when she reached them. “You remember my little cousin Chad, right?”
Sydney looked at the younger, extremely built man next to Luka, who had a good four inches on both of them. “Oh my God,” she said. “You were like twelve years old last time I saw you. What happened?”
“I got bigger.” Chad grinned at her. “Hey, Sydney. You look great.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
“It’s his first race,” Luka said, and nudged him. “Means he’s going to win. Beginner’s luck, you know.”
Chad coughed. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” he said. “I’ll be happy with top five. Ellis thinks I won’t even make that, but—”
“Foster!” someone shouted, and Chad flinched. Sydney glanced over to see a bear of a man with shaggy brown hair and an eye patch, standing across the drive and glaring their way. “Move your ass,” the man growled. “That car isn’t going to check itself.”
“And that’d be Ellis. Gotta run, ladies.” He winked, then turned and trotted off toward the bear.
“Good luck!” Luka called after him.
Sydney raised an eyebrow. “You going to let that guy talk to your cousin like that?”
“Ellis is hard on everybody. It’s part of his charm.” Luka threw an arm around her and sighed. “Speaking of cranky men,” she said. “I hear somebody had a run-in with the town hermit today.”
Sydney groaned. “How did you know?”
“I’m psychic.”
“Seriously, Luka.”
“Fine. Make me reveal all my secrets.” She rolled her eyes dramatically, but then she smiled. “Gramps was sitting out at Kenny’s garage with the other old-timers when you drove by and turned onto Old Hickory. There’s only one place down that road.”
“Maybe I was just going for a drive.”
“Uh-huh,” Luka said slowly. “They were still there when you drove back. Gramps said you looked like somebody ran you through a wringer and hung you out to dry.”
She bit her lip. This was not helping her forget—and if the regulars at Kenny’s had seen her, sooner or later the whole town would know she’d been there. Probably sooner. “Okay,” she finally said. “So I went out to the ranch. I wanted the carriage for the wedding.”
“And you saw him.”
“Unfortunately.”
“You might have mentioned. You know I’d have gone with you.”
Reproach laced her voice, and Sydney felt instant guilt. Luka had been her best friend since the first grade. They’d always had each other’s backs—in fact, Luka had landed herself three days’ detention with her outburst at the prom incident. She knew better than anyone how much Cam had really hurt her.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I should’ve told you.” Her voice shook, and she realized with a start that she was crying a little. She swiped furiously at the tears. She was so done crying over him. “He did it again,” she said. “Laughed at me, when I asked about the carriage.”
“That son of a bitch,” Luka seethed. “I swear to God, I’m gonna break his balls.”
She managed a smile. “I’m not sure he has any.”
“Have you looked?”
“No!” The question shocked a laugh out of her, and she took a deep, calming breath. “The carriage is ruined,” she said. “He showed it to me.”
“Honestly, I’m not surprised.” Luka’s mouth flattened. “I mean, Mr. Thatcher used to do holiday rides in the park, and all the parades, plus the county fair. But I don’t think that carriage has been off the ranch since…well, you know.”
“Yeah. But here’s the weird thing.” Sydney frowned, remembering the blaze in Cam’s eyes when he made the deal—and she accepted it. “He said he’d fix it up and let me use it for free. If I promised never to go out to his place again.”
“And you believed him?”
She paused for a long moment. “I guess I do.”
“Well, now I know for sure that getting married scrambles your brains.” Luka smirked and shook her head. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Syd.”
“Not really.”
“There’s a surprise.”
Sydney laughed, but it didn’t ease the dread forming in the pit of her stomach. She really didn’t know what she was doing. Not just with Cam, but with her life in general. She was moving to New York—a different place, but also a whole new world from here—with a man she was only pretty sure she loved. And if she was making a huge mistake…well, it was a little too late to back out now.
“Oh, look,” Luka said. “Here comes lover-boy now.”
For one crazy instant, Sydney thought she meant Cam. It was a relief to see Tommy striding easily toward them, wearing stiff blue jeans, a polo shirt, and a broad grin. Everything about him was very much not Cam, from his all-American blond hair and blue eyes to his outgoing personality and penchant for practical jokes.
She wondered if all those opposite qualities were what attracted her in the first place. Tommy was the anti-Cam in every sense.
“Hey, babe. Glad you could make it.” Tommy caught her up and kissed her, and she felt a rush of warmth. Definitely no lack of attraction there. He pulled back and glanced aside. “Luka,” he said. “You hanging with us?”
“Yes, she is,” Sydney said. “That’s not a problem, is it?”
“Nah. She can probably explain stuff better than me.” Tommy flashed a smile and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go find a seat. I want to grab a drink before the flag drops.”
They headed into the crowd, and Sydney renewed her determination to have a good time. All she had to do was not think about Cam.
Being with Tommy would make that a whole lot easier.
* * * *
By the end of the first race, Sydney decided this stuff wasn’t too bad. Live racing wasn’t quite as boring as watching it on TV, mostly because it was hard not to catch the excitement from the crowd. She still couldn’t really keep track of the action too well. But at least it wasn’t putting her to sleep.
Luka had gone to sit with her aunt and uncle for the next race, even though Chad wasn’t in until the third. She’d said she wanted to give the two of them some time alone. Soon after she left, Tommy went for more drinks. Sydney contented herself with crowd-watching and daydreaming about the wedding. They were holding it at the park, and they’d practically invited the who
le town. The reception would be at The Klinker—the biggest bar in town, but also the only banquet hall and live entertainment venue outside the VFW. Unfortunately, they’d have to skip the honeymoon. Tommy had to be in New York less than a week after the wedding to start his new job.
But they had reserved a suite at the little bed-and-breakfast just outside Covendale for the wedding night. That would be fun.
She suddenly realized Tommy had been gone longer than the last time he went for drinks. If he wasn’t back soon, he’d miss the start of the race. Half-standing from her seat, she scanned the stands without much hope of finding him in all these people. It was a surprise when she actually spotted him.
He was standing two aisles over and a few rows down, holding a clear plastic cup of beer in each hand. Three girls in shorts and skimpy shirts clustered in front of him, giggling. Two of them she recognized—Kate Beckfield and Patti Smith, of the high school Pretty People. The third was a few years younger and very well endowed. Tommy leaned down and said something in the younger girl’s ear, and she shrieked laughter in response.
Sydney told herself firmly that the flash of suspicion was just pre-wedding jitters. The tightness in her chest eased a little when Tommy turned from the little group and headed back to her.
She was completely settled by the time he took a seat next to her and leaned over for a kiss. “Got you a Bud lime,” he said, handing her a cup. “You like lime, right?”
“Yes. Thank you,” she said as she accepted with a reluctant smile. Actually, she wasn’t into beer—she mostly drank lime Mojitos. But he’d tried. “Hey, speaking of drinks,” she said. “Did we ever decide for sure whether we’re having an open bar?”
“I don’t know. Brian and Jesse might drink Dad into bankruptcy,” Tommy said with a grin. “But he’ll probably do it anyway. He’s about to close a big deal in a few weeks.”
“Well, that’s good. I think people will have more fun with an open bar.” Sydney tried a sip of the beer and managed not to grimace. It wasn’t completely awful, she supposed. “By the way,” she said. “We’re going to have the carriage for the wedding after all.”
Tommy went strangely still. “Yeah?” he said. “How’d you swing that?”
“I just went out to the ranch and asked.”
He turned a slight frown on her. “You talked to Cam Thatcher?”
“Well, yes. He was the first person I saw there. The only person, actually.”
“I can’t believe he—” Tommy cut himself off with effort, and his expression darkened. “You don’t need to talk to him,” he said.
The sudden anger would’ve been a true shock, if she hadn’t seen that picture from the fair earlier. Now it just kind of irritated her. Cam might have been a little gruff—okay, downright nasty—but he was doing them a tremendous favor for nothing. She had to give him credit for that. “He’s the only person in town with a carriage,” she said. “What’s with you two, anyway? I thought you used to be friends.”
Tommy laughed. It was a cold sound, unlike anything she’d ever heard from him. “Cam doesn’t have friends,” he said. “Nobody likes him. Look, Sydney, I don’t want you going out there again.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean it.” He must’ve missed the warning in her voice. “Don’t talk to Cam Thatcher, ever. Not even if you see him around.”
Sydney fought the urge to pour the stupid beer in his lap. He might be her fiancé, but nobody dictated who she could and could not associate with. She didn’t particularly want to talk to Cam—but that was her choice. Not Tommy’s. “Does that mean I can tell you not to talk to Kate Beckfield or Patti Smith?” she said stiffly.
He looked almost comically surprised. “That’s different.”
“Is it?” She stood, at once deciding she’d had enough of racing for tonight. “I’m not feeling too well,” she said, making no effort to hide the sarcasm. “I’m going home to bed. Maybe I’ll call you tomorrow, if I feel like it.”
“Babe, wait. I didn’t mean—”
“I’m tired, Tommy. I’m going home.” She held the plastic cup out until he took it. “By the way, I don’t like beer. Even if it’s lime.”
Before he could say anything else, she turned and threaded her way across the row. She was probably overreacting—but right now, she wanted to be anywhere but here. She just needed some time to rest and think. Tommy had never been demanding, and it wasn’t something she was prepared to put up with.
Maybe he had an explanation. But she didn’t want to hear it until she’d calmed down and convinced herself this was the right thing to do, all of it. At the moment, nothing in the world felt right.
Chapter 4
Cam drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of the farm truck and stared at the speedway gate. The second race was about to begin—he could hear the engines revving at the starting line. Ellis should’ve been out here by now.
He’d seen a figure dart out of the gate and vanish into the shadows of the parking lot just as he pulled onto the main drive, but it was too short and slender for Ellis. After three years of pestering him about buying the bike, the man better not’ve changed his mind. It was hard enough for Cam to part with the only damned thing in the world that had ever been truly his. But five grand was a third of the money he needed for the property taxes…so it was sell the Harley, or let Lowell win.
Anything was a better choice than that.
Just as he was debating whether to head for the pit and drag Ellis out here, the man himself ambled through the gates with his hands stuffed in his pockets. It wasn’t a shock to see Jack Ellis looking less than thrilled. After the accident last year that took his eye and ended a promising racing career, he didn’t have much to smile about. But tonight he’d lost the layer of fury he usually wore to cover his black depression.
Cam climbed out of the truck and approached him, suddenly sure he’d either changed his mind or didn’t have the money. That’d leave him back at square one. Without a prearranged buyer, there was no way he’d be able to sell the bike for anywhere near what it was worth in the next two weeks.
“Thatcher.” Ellis drew a hand out and offered it, and Cam shook. “How’ve you been?”
“Looks like I’m better than you.” He smiled a little. “Who pissed in your cereal, man?”
Ellis opened his mouth, then closed it abruptly. “It’s nothing,” he said, and promptly shook off the misery to prove it. The man was a damned good liar. “I have to admit, I was surprised to hear from you after all this time. I almost didn’t come out here. Thought it was a joke.”
“No joke,” he said. “You still want it, five grand takes it.”
Ellis stared at him for a long moment, then walked past him to the truck bed. He reached up and ran a hand along the seat of the SG with something like reverence. “She’s gorgeous,” he said. “You know, she’s worth a hell of a lot more than five. Double that, at least.”
“You paying more, then?”
“No. That’s my offer.” Ellis turned a piercing gaze on him. “And you shouldn’t be taking it, Cam. So why are you?”
Panic tried to swell in him, but he beat it down. “My reasons aren’t part of the deal,” he said. “You want a reason, it’s yours for another five grand.”
Ellis frowned. “I don’t like this. I’ll take it,” he said, “but only because I know you must be desperate. Damned if I’m going to be happy about it, though.”
“Well, I guess that’s your loss.”
Another stare, and then Ellis laughed. “You’re about the only person I know who’s more stubborn than me,” he said. “Give me a lift to my car. I’ve got the cash for you in there.”
Cam raised an eyebrow. “You drove?” he said. “How were you planning to get the bike back?”
“Oh, I’m riding it home. That piece of shit Chevy can stay in the lot forever, much as I care. It can’t possibly rust any more than it has.” Ellis gestured at the nearest row. “I’m down there,” he said. “Come
on, I’ll—”
The sound of a wheezing engine rose into the night and cut him off. Down the row he’d just indicated, headlights pulsed in time with a vehicle that was turning over and over, but failing to catch. It stopped for a few seconds and started up again, longer this time. Then a female voice yelled, “Shit!”
Ellis grinned. “Sounds like that’s for you,” he said.
“Why’s that?”
“Hey, you’re the mechanical genius.” Ellis held up a hand. “I only know how to drive.”
“Great,” Cam muttered. All he wanted to do was get the money, go home, and do some heavy manual labor until he was too tired to think. Now he’d have to offer to help some woman, who was probably a townie and might even know him. Which meant she’d either refuse, or take his help with a side of sneering and a fresh batch of lies to spread about him. “Well, this’ll be fun.”
He got back in the truck and waited for Ellis to climb in the passenger side. As he drove down the row, the headlights of the damsel in distress went through another round of flickering, running lower with every pulse. “She’s going to kill what’s left of the damned battery if she doesn’t stop that,” he said. “Christ, doesn’t anybody know enough to…”
The words died in his mouth as they got close enough for his own headlights to shine on the troubled vehicle—which happened to be a pickup he’d already seen once too often today.
That truck belonged to Sydney Davis.
* * * *
Sydney wanted to scream.
She twisted the key and held, listening to the engine give out a series of weakening coughs. Why did her truck have to pick tonight to quit? No way was she going back in there to ask Tommy for a ride home, and she wasn’t going to make Luka leave.
Well, she probably just needed a jump. She could try to find somebody out here with jumper cables, or call home and ask Dad to help—though she didn’t like that option much, either. Her parents already did a lot for her.
Just as she decided to give it one more try and hope for a miracle, headlights swept down the row and stopped right in front of her. At once relieved and embarrassed, she cleared her throat and prepared to explain the problem, at least as much as she knew.
Cowboy's Pride (Welcome to Covendale Book 1) Page 3
