Clutched (Wild Riders) (15 page)

She took top points in three out of the four races she had. Her name was slowly climbing up the leader board—exactly as Throttled had hoped for. Once people heard that she beat my brother in a race, her stock started to rise. And fast. She was on the top of her game and I knew that it wouldn't be long before she didn't need me at all. In the meantime, I kept helping her fine tune her skills.

As I drove across the Carolinas I was enjoying the peace and quiet. I was really looking forward to getting the final race of this leg over and done with. After that, I had two whole weeks off. Granted, I had to attend my brother's wedding, and deal with the obligatory hugs and kisses of family time, but I'd take it.

Nora and Reid had insisted that as soon as the wedding was over, Brett, Georgia, and I join them for their honeymoon. A few weeks after Brett got the break up phone call that had almost brought him to his knees, Georgia showed up at a race ready to rekindle their relationship.

“We hardly ever get time off together,”
Reid had said.

“You have to come,”
Nora added.
“It will be a great time for us to all hang out before the season gets crazy.”
She had a point. After this short break, we were all going to be on opposite sides of the country for a while. I probably wouldn't see them except in passing for a while.
“Please,”
Nora had said with that sickeningly sweet smile that made Travers men weak in the knees.

“You really want all of us on your honeymoon?”
I'd asked.
“Aren’t you supposed to be alone and all that shit?”

“We're not sharing a room with you,”
Reid said with a laugh.
“We'll have plenty of alone time,”
he added with a waggle of his brow. Nora's cheeks started to redden, but after that she'd assured me that I wouldn't be interrupting a thing.

I'd agreed to go. I needed a vacation. I needed to go somewhere relaxing to clear my head and figure out what my next move was going to be with Throttled. Nick had asked me if I would consider coaching Link Hoffman, which sounded about as fun as Chinese water torture. The guy was a tool and had an ego that made Chayse seem like Mother Theresa. Plus, I didn't want to take any time away from Chayse, who I was actually starting to enjoy working with.

I gripped the steering tightly when my phone ringing echoed through my truck speakers.

“Hello.”

“Hoyt. Nick Pilsner,” he said. Um... yeah. My phone had already told me it was him. “Just wanted to call and say congrats on a great race this weekend.”

“Thanks,” I told him. “But Chayse did most of the work. She was in the zone on Saturday.”

“Yes she was,” he agreed. “I'm happy to see that things are working out exactly how we expected them to. How do you think she'll fare in Raleigh?”

“She's got a good shot at winning,” I told him. “As far as I know she's the fastest. We'll have to wait and see how the track conditions are and if any real competition shows up.”

“Good, good,” he said mindlessly. I imagined he was counting money or looking over projections for Throttled's fiscal year. “A bit of vacation time coming up soon, huh?”

“Yeah,” I had a feeling that my vacation time was about to get ruined. “Why? Did you need me to stay back?”

“No, no,” he said. I was relieved. Like I said, I needed a vacation. “I actually wanted to talk to you about your brother's wedding. I think it will be a great photo op for Throttled fans to see the whole team together.”

“I'm not really sure...” I hesitated. “I don't know really know if Reid and Nora want outside photographers there. It's their day, Nick.”

“Oh I know that,” he said. “I was just thinking since the majority of the team would be there we could make sure to snap a couple pics for Instagram and the other social media sites.”

“I'll bring it up,” I told him. It was funny that even after I stopped coaching and managing my brother, Nick still felt it necessary to run things by me. I knew it was because my brother would tell him to “fuck off” in heartbeat.  I, on the other hand, could see the value in the brand. The fans would love a picture of the Throttled team off the track.

“Oh,” he said. “And can you make sure that Chayse behaves. You know how she gets around an open bar.”

“Chayse is going?”

“Why wouldn't she be? She's part of the team.”

“Yep,” I said. Did Nick know I was trying to avoid spending time outside of racing with her? Why would he? I told him that there was nothing going on between us. Surely, I could manage this. Be the best man, take a few pics, make sure Chayse didn't drink too much, and try not to fall for her any more than I already had. It was the checklist from hell. My head was already pounding. “Of course. I'll make sure she's on her best behavior.”

“Thanks, pal,” he said, earning an eye roll from me. “The crew is coming back to Texas after the race in West Virginia, so you'll need to give Chayse a ride back to Illinois for the wedding.” Even better. An eight hour car ride alone with her. I was starting to wonder if Nick was setting us up. He'd already suspected that something was going on between us. Maybe he wanted to see if he could push us to our breaking point. “I'll see you at the ceremony.”

“Great,” I mumbled under my breath when he hung up. Exactly how I wanted to start my vacation.

“G
ot everything?” Hoyt asked as he loaded my small suitcase into the back of his truck.

I'd just picked up another top finish and barely had time to shower after I was done. He wanted to be back in Illinois by dinnertime, so we had to leave right away. I'd thrown on my favorite pair of jeans, a black Throttled t-shirt, and my Converse sneakers before I wrangled my damp hair into a knot on the top of my head. I knew that I was going to be alone with Hoyt and I still couldn't muster the energy to make myself pretty. What was the point? We would never be anything more than we were. I didn't need to be pretty to be rejected.

He didn't seem to mind. He watched my every move as I walked out to his truck. It was the first time he'd really looked at me since we'd decided to cool it back in Texas. I knew it was for the best, but that little voice in the back of my head constantly reminded me that I was attracted to him. I couldn't just shut that off. And I'd tried. A lot.

When he'd approached me about the wedding earlier that week, I was thrown for quite a loop. We'd fallen pretty deep in the coach/rider relationship that the last thing I expected was him to offer to drive me back to his hometown for the festivities.

“Come with me,”
he'd said.
“It'll be fun.”
So I left it at that. But now questions were buzzing in my brain. Were we going as work colleagues? Were we going as friends? Was it a date? I didn't want to risk him withdrawing the offer or set myself up for disappointment so I didn’t ask. I'd just play this whole thing by ear and see how it worked out. Reading too far into things was his specialty, not mine. I was just a go-where-the-wind-takes-you kind of girl. Secretly, I was hoping that wind would blow off our clothes and land me underneath of him, but I wouldn't tell him that. Even if I really wanted to.

“I think so,” I answered, checking my pocket for my phone. I was about to get in a vehicle with Hoyt, drive the entire day, and attend the wedding of Reid Travers. If you would have told fourteen year old me that one day I'd been attending the wedding of motocross royalty, I would have called you a big fat liar, or at least an insane person.

The whole thing had me unable to think straight. First off, getting an invitation to the wedding was enough of a shock. Especially, when Nora hand delivered it to me a few weeks ago.

“Please come,”
she'd said.
“I want you there.”
We'd managed to sneak in a lunch one Sunday before my schedule, and Reid's, went insane. She was so sweet and thoughtful and had a good sense of humor. Plus, she was the first female I'd met that really understood the demands of this job. She got it. She got me. I couldn't tell her no when she handed me the embellished envelope. My names was scrolled across the front in the prettiest handwriting. I was starting to think that Nora Bennett might just be perfect. I wanted to hate her, but she was just so damn nice.

And then, Hoyt offers to give me a ride. We'd both been avoiding each other like the plague. It hurt to see him every day and only be able to talk about motocross. I wanted to talk to him about anything but. I wanted to know him. I wanted to see if that had any impact on what I felt for him physically. I was about to find out. There was no way we could drive eight hours and only talk about riding. Right?

I'd been performing to the best of my abilities. I'd been winning. I couldn't imagine that he had too many notes for me. But then again, he liked to be thorough. As in he would
thoroughly
over analyze everything I did wrong and/or right. I really hoped this whole ride wasn't going to be nitpick Chayse time.

“So...” I said when we started out on our road trip.

“So...” he mimicked, fumbling with the heat and A/C buttons. “You good?”

“I'm good,” I said. The awkwardness was already starting. Ten minutes in and this was already looking like a disaster. We sat in silence for a bit longer. I knew I should have brought a book or something to kill the time.

“You looked really great out there today,” he said. “Your turns—”

“Can we not do this?” I stopped him.

“What's that?”

“Motocross,” I said. “Can we not talk about riding? For once?”

He looked confused. Perplexed even. Could he really not come up with anything else to talk to me about? When he didn't respond I decided to help him out.

“We can talk about anything else,” I suggested. “Anything at all.”

“Like?”

“Well...” I thought for a moment. “My favorite color is green. I love the movie Footloose, the old one,” I clarified. “Not the craptastic remake.”

He grinned.

“Oh, and I hate reality television.”

“All reality television?” he asked. “Even the Kardashians?” His sarcasm was thick.

“Especially the Kardashians.” The air seemed to lighten as we talked about why Kim and Kanye were the worst. I even managed to learn that his favorite color was blue and the only time he watched a movie was when Brett or Reid forced him to.

“So what do you do when you're not coaching?” I asked.

“I don't know,” he shrugged. “I guess I'm always coaching or at least looking for ways to help you and my brother improve.”

“You're dedicated.”

“I've got nothing else.”

“That's not true,” I told him. “You could always race. You know exactly what to do on bike.”

“I don't think so.”

“Why not?” He'd never really told me the whole story about why he gave up the bike. “Bad accident?”

“No,” he said, glancing over at me. “I have... stage fright,” he paused. “Track fright, I guess.” Something in his eyes said that this wasn't an easy conversation for him to have. “I've just never been good in front of people. I can ride for fun for days, but the second I'm out there with other riders and fans watching, I suck. I panic. I do all the things I tell you not to do.” He chuckled, but I could hear the vulnerability he was trying to cover up. “I'm just meant to be in the pits, I guess.”

“You could always be a drill sergeant,” I teased. I could see that he was thinking a little too much about the whole thing. I hated that I cared about his feelings, but I did. Humor was clearly my defense mechanism. He seemed to appreciate it as he chuckled. “The military always appreciates a few good men, right?”

“Maybe.”

It wasn't enough just to make him laugh. That flutter in my chest made me speak again.

“For what it's worth,” I said, reaching over and placing my hand on his thigh. “You're a great coach.” I felt his muscles tense under my touch. When he let his eyes drift over to me and off the road for a second, I wanted to lean over and kiss him. I wanted to tell him that he was valuable to the sport. That he was making a difference. I knew what it was like to doubt yourself. The only reason I was starting to believe that I was worth the sponsorships and acknowledgment was because of him. I could at least repay the favor.

“Video games,” he said shifting in his seat and ending the moment we were sharing.

“Huh?”

“I play video games sometimes.” He cleared his throat and I withdrew my hand from his leg. “We should stop,” he said. “I need a drink.” He took at hard turn on the next exit and before I could figure out exactly what just happened, we were pulling to a stop at a gas station.

“It doesn't have to be like this,” I told him as we both climbed out of the truck. “You don't have to make things weird.”

“I'm not,” he said, turning to face me with his hand on the door of the station.

“You are,” I said. “I am. And I don't want it to be. We both know that nothing can ever happen between us.”

He nodded.

“But that doesn't mean that we can't have a good time this weekend,” I said. “We can be friends. There are no rules about that.”

“True,” he said. “We can be friends.” The silence hung in the air, even after we'd just agreed to try and make the best of this situation. Neither of us knew what to say. My body was telling me to wrap my arms around his neck and put my mouth on his, but my head was highly against it. I still remembered exactly how his lips felt. How strong and sensual his kiss was one moment, and how sweet and sultry it was the next. I remembered how his hands felt caressing my skin. I remembered how badly I wanted to be anything but his friend.

“Good,” I said. “Now buy me a slushie, friend.” I could pretend.

* * *

S
even hours later, we'd managed to talk about everything under the sun. Except motocross. No nitpicking. No “Do this, Chayse. Do that, Chayse.” Nothing. Somehow, we'd actually found some middle ground between work and lust. If that was all we could be, I'd take it.

“This doesn't look like the Halstead Inn,” I said when we pulled into the driveway of a small cottage-style house. The peaceful tree-lined street was as quaint as I'd imagined to be when Hoyt had described the small town he'd grown up in.