Racing Hearts (3 page)

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.

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.

“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 know 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?”

“Dead.”

He blew out a breath and glanced over at Nick, who gave a single nod. “All right. Bright Candy just foaled, and someone needs to get over there to make sure everything's fine. I need to get to the races. Can you go?”

“Seriously?”

Trip shut his truck door and hung out the window, a smile breaking across his face. “Tell them I sent you. And try not to hook up with any of my staff before I get back.”

Alex laughed. “Yes, sir.”

“I
still don't understand why I had to pick you up way out here,” Kate said, eyeing the trees that surrounded Emery in the darkness. The fairway cut through the woods like a curving stream. Daddy had the small nine-hole course put in two years earlier in an attempt to teach Mama how to play golf without an audience. To this day, she still had never stepped foot on the course.

“I had no choice. Mr. Sampson is in the barn at the crack of dawn every morning. I couldn't take the chance that he would see me leave so early.”

It was five a.m., the sun had yet to wake up, and the sounds of outside still resembled something out of a horror film. Which was Kate's real problem. Despite being an adult, she still harbored terrifying illusions of getting attacked by a serial killer in the woods. It all went back to their horror-movie marathon in the third grade. They'd rented every one of the
Friday the 13th
s
,
and by the third movie, Kate had resigned herself to never going in the woods again—or to a hockey game.

Kate eyed the darkened depths around them again. “You realize that you're twenty-five, right?”

“Do you? I mean, seriously, are you going to pee yourself out here? Should I go get you a change of clothes?”

Kate rolled her eyes. “First, stop changing the subject. And two, gross! I have never peed my pants in my—” At Emery's expression, she stopped and pointed her finger at her friend. “You promised to never bring that up! It was seventh grade and I laughed too hard. It happens!”

Emery grinned. “Sure it does.” She placed her bag in the trunk of Kate's Prius, hoping against hope that she found the courage to put on the riding boots she'd tucked inside. This was it, her one and only chance to convince Trip, to regain her family's respect. Hell, to regain the entire racing world's respect. Everything rested on this appointment.

“I'm sorry,” she said, slipping into the passenger seat. “I promise not to bring it up again starting now.”

“You just remember that I know your secrets too, little Emery Carlisle.”

Emery smiled. “That you do.” She felt bad asking Kate to drive, but she knew carsickness would find her friend if she rode instead of drove, and besides, she owed Emery for that cross-country stint in college, which had resulted in an empty gas tank and a three-mile hike in the desert out west to the nearest gas station. Needless to say, this was cake compared to that disaster.

Kate pulled off the side road, back onto the main highway that led to Triple Run. “I thought your meeting was at seven.”

“It is.”

Kate's gaze shifted to Emery and then back to the road. “Um, am I missing something here? It's five.”

“I figured we could hang out until then. Patty's Place should be open by the time we get there. We can have fresh scones and coffee.”

“Patty's? Are you insane?” She held up her right hand. “No, don't answer that. I know you're insane. Why else would you eat breakfast with your aunt's nemesis and then meet with your first love?”

Emery jerked up like she'd been shocked. “What? I didn't love him.”

“Ha! You loved him down to your toes, girl. Every bit as much as Annie-Jean
hates
Patty. She'll crucify you if she finds out we ate there.”

Emery stared out her window, not willing to touch the love topic and hating how much it hurt to hear Kate say it. Never once had Emery said she loved Trip out loud, never once had she even allowed herself to think it. Feeling it, though? Well, feelings were their own animal, and hers refused to be tamed.

“Then we'll just have to make sure she doesn't find out.”

“Yeah, is that like making sure your daddy doesn't find out about this meeting? Why don't you just tell him, Em?”

“You know it's complicated.”

And she did. Kate knew exactly how hard it was for Emery to stand up to her daddy, especially after the accident. She remembered her parents' faces when they came into her hospital room after her second surgery. She had two broken ribs, a broken leg, and a face full of bruises. She was a destroyed woman, and she was their only child. Her mother had had countless miscarriages before Emery, so they viewed her as a blessing from God—a blessing they held clutched to their chests.

Emery didn't even allow them to speak before she looked them in the eyes and simply said, “Please.” The room grew quiet then, but they knew exactly what she was asking—please don't make her stop racing.

She had no idea then how deeply her fear would set in, how the animal that had once held a piece of her soul would cause her hands to shake so badly she couldn't even grab the reins. Coming to Trip was a risk, in more ways than one. She just hoped it'd be worth it.

“All right, well, if Annie finds out, I wasn't with you. She scares me when she's mad.”

Emery laughed. “She scares everyone.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, switching from station to station, Emery's nerves twisting around and around, doubt replacing Kate as her new best friend.

“Hey, Em?”

“Hmm?”

Kate cut her eyes over. “What was it like to talk to him again?”

Emery thought of his voice, the perfect combination of smooth and rough—all man, all confidence—and the hint of a smile lingering at the end of each word. Her heart beat in her chest, warmth spreading all around. “It was like a sunrise. All dark and then it just peeks up, and suddenly you're nodding and smiling, because it was always there, hidden behind the night.”

Kate looked at her again. “Um . . . what was that?”

A laugh burst from Emery's lips, and she tossed the ChapStick she'd been playing with at her friend. “Hell, I don't know!”

“God, you're in so much trouble.”

Emery sighed. “Don't I know it.”

They drove through downtown Triple Run, all the streets cobblestone, the stop signs wooden and painted bright red and white. There were few cars on the road and the stores that lined the street were just beginning to open up. Emery eyed each of the stores, curious which ones Trip frequented the most—the hardware store, perhaps, or the diner, or maybe he was fond of Patty's Place. Emery couldn't blame him. Despite her aunt's hatred, Patty was an amazing baker.

“Are you sure, like sure-sure about this?” Kate asked as she parked in an open space in front of Patty's Place. The lights were on inside, a few of the tables already full, and then there stood Patty behind the counter, laughing and waving her hands around as she spoke, like she couldn't keep them still if she tried.

Emery didn't know exactly what had happened between her aunt and Patty, but she knew they'd been best friends all their lives, both women never married, and then suddenly Patty had moved to Triple Run and Annie-Jean never spoke kindly of her again. Though a part of her wanted to trust that her aunt had reasons for her hatred of Patty, another part of her knew Annie could be unreasonable. This whole fight could be over something trivial—like a recipe.

Regardless, the diner down the street still sat dark inside, which meant Patty's was the only place they could go for a good cup of coffee, and Emery needed five if she hoped to survive this morning.

“Let's go.”

She shut the car door and opened the door to the bakery, the smell of cinnamon and brown sugar hitting her nose. Patty's gaze locked on Emery as soon as the door closed behind them. For a moment, Emery worried she might ask them to leave, but instead, she just looked sad.

The rest of the diners all peered over at Emery and Kate, seeming to recognize out-of-towners, and truthfully, if they knew Emery and Kate were from Crestler's Key, their quizzical stares would turn downright mean. There had always been some animosity between the two towns, going back so long it was hard to remember where the issue had originated.

All Emery knew was that an article in the
New York Times
had called Crestler's Key “Kentucky's horse country.” Well, a week later, Triple Run changed their “Welcome to Triple Run” sign to read “Welcome to Triple Run, Kentucky's horse country.” And that was that. Crestler's Key's mayor at the time had ordered Triple Run's mayor to change the sign, but it was done, and then the
Times
article was forgotten and everyone in the racing world had started referring to Triple Run as horse country, driving that knife deeper into Crestler's Key's back.

All that was to say, Patty didn't open her bakery in Triple Run by coincidence. It was an intentional slap in the face to Annie-Jean.

Emery motioned to a table by the window—making it also super-close to the door in case they had to dash out—and within a minute, Patty stood beside them, her hands on her hips, a tight smile on her overly made-up face.

“Good mornin', ladies. What brings you to town?”

A hush fell over the small bakery, all eyes on Emery. Crap! She hadn't thought through her reasons for being in town, what she would say. She couldn't mention Trip or Hamilton Stables. Though she doubted anyone here would step foot in Crestler's Key to tell her daddy about her visit, she couldn't chance it.

“Oh, just passing through.”

Patty's eyes narrowed, her white bob shaking, like even her hair didn't believe Emery. “Driving through to where, honey? Atlanta's the other way.”

“Oh, well . . .” She glanced hopefully at Kate, but her stare was locked on a guy by the counter, oblivious to the disaster happening at their table. “It was . . . You see . . .”

Just then, the guy walked over to their table, a grin on his face. “Well, hello there, Patty. You look lovely this morning.”

Patty laughed and swiped a hand through the air. “Oh, you are such a flirt. But I'll take it.” She laughed again, and Emery turned in her chair, eyeing the door. Could she run without drawing attention?

The guy laughed, and Kate laughed harder, causing all eyes to turn to her.
What are you doing?
Emery mouthed, for her friend to just shrug and waggle her eyebrows, then nod toward the guy. Subtlety was so not Kate's strong suit.

“Care to introduce me to your friends, Ms. Patty?” he asked.

For a second Emery thought Patty might say no, but then she plastered on that sugar smile of hers and motioned between them. “Alex Hamilton, this is Kate Littleton and Emery Carlisle.”

Alex Hamilton? Hamilton? No, no, no!

Alex's gaze landed on Emery. “Right. I thought I recognized you. You're here for—”

Emery jumped up and grabbed his arm, dragging him to the counter. “Yes! Thanks for the offer. I'll take whatever you bought. Come show me.”

Alex tried to resist, but when Emery dug her nails into his forearm he screamed. “Damn, woman, what the hell did I do to you?” he asked as they reached the counter. “I didn't think we'd been together before.” He cocked his head, studying her. “Have we?”

Emery glared at him. “
No
. What is wrong with you?”

“Me? You just assaulted me in the name of blueberry scones!”

Trying to calm herself down, Emery closed her eyes, but when she reopened them she found everyone in the bakery watching them. Gah! Why couldn't she live in some massive city where people minded their own business?

“Look, no one knows I'm here today to talk with Trip. You can't say anything.”

Alex's brows lifted. “Oh . . . kay. And why is that again? Don't you think people are going to notice if you start riding for Trip?”

“I don't know. Yes? Maybe? But that isn't happening today, see. We're just talking. I've got time to . . .”

He grinned, and she thought maybe she didn't like Trip's brother all too much. “Come up with a lie?” He took in her expression and burst out laughing. “Damn, I'm right, aren't I? First Trip went all crazy in the meeting about you, and then you're keeping the whole thing a secret? What's really going on between you and my brother?”

Emery had stopped listening at
Trip went all crazy in the meeting about you
. “What do you mean, he went crazy?”

“Ah, just all his decision. He'll do whatever the hell he wants. All that shit.” Alex dipped down so he stood eye to eye with Emery. “But that doesn't explain why you're all worked up right now. Is there something going on?”

“No!” Emery glanced around and lowered her voice. “I mean, no. We're just—we're nothing. It's just a meeting.”

Alex laughed again. “Yeah, you said that.”

Emery opened her mouth to tell Alex where he could shove that laugh when Patty came up, and Emery pleaded to Alex with her eyes to keep his mouth shut—or else she wasn't against shoving those delicious blueberry scones down his throat.

“Everything okay over here?”

Alex smiled down at Emery, then flipped his crooked grin over to Patty. “Yes, Ms. Patty. Emery was just asking for directions to Lexington. She and her friend are going up there to that new antique shop. You heard about it, right?”

Antiquing? What? Emery was twenty-five. Twenty-five year olds didn't go antiquing. Patty would never buy that. Stupid Hamilton brother.

But then Patty said, “Oh,” and her expression turned thoughtful. “No, I don't think I have. I'll have to check it out, too.”

Emery released a breath as Patty left them, and Alex leaned down, that annoying smirk still on his face. “I'll tell Trip you're on your way.” Then he glanced down at his forearms, to the tiny crescent moon–shaped indentations turning red. “And warn him to wear gloves.”