Racing Hearts (14 page)

Rain dripped down her face as she took him in. “Fine. But you should know I don't like you right now.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Duly noted.”

T
he cold air, coupled with soaked clothes, had Emery shaking down to her bones, but she still couldn't pull the smile from her face. She'd been riding for Trip for weeks now, running fillies and colts, allowing herself to remember why she loved riding. But she had purposefully avoided Craving Wind, knowing that ride would mean so much more than the others. Trip would form his opinion of her as a rider by that one run, and she wanted to be more than impressive. She wanted to meet his challenge and prove she was the best jockey, woman or man, to ride Craving Wind.

She'd proven that today.

The excitement was almost enough to make her forgive Trip for his attitude, for bossing her around and making her feel like a child. But something else was going on in Trip's head. She could see it, and nothing angered her more than receiving someone else's beating. She started to ask him who'd stolen his Halloween candy when she noticed he'd driven past the main barn, cutting around the training building and heading deeper into the woods.

“Where are you going?” Emery shouted over the rain.

He shot her a look that said it should be obvious, but Emery had never been to this side of the farm.

“Trip, where are we going?” she repeated, just as he turned down a right-hand road, not slowing down despite the warning rumble of thunder overhead. Then, when she'd officially decided he was the most infuriating man she'd ever met in her life, he pulled into a short driveway that led to a ranch house with a three-car garage. She had only enough time to think the garage was as large as the house itself, and how very Triplike that was, when he hit a button on the cart and the garage door closest to the house surged open.

He pulled inside the garage, and then before she could open her mouth, he spun on her. “You're drenched and the storm's only getting worse. You can't drive home in this. Come in and change. Stay until the storm clears. You can scream at me the entire time if that makes you feel better.” He flashed a grin that would normally have her smiling back, but she was still too angry at him to play nice.

A crack of lightning struck behind them, causing Emery to jump, and Trip reached out for her arm, only for her to jerk back. “Don't.”

He released a slow breath. “Look, I know—”

She got out of the cart and started for the closest door without asking him if it were the door into the house. She needed distance from him, so even a closet would do. “No, you don't know. You don't know anything.”

Emery jerked open the door and stepped inside, realizing a little too late that she was still dripping wet, and immediately slipped on the tile in his utility room. Trip caught her by the arm, steadying her, and she thought about how safe she'd once felt in those arms. How badly she wanted to feel them around her now. How she couldn't think of anything else. And then how horrible she'd felt when he'd gone off on her at the stable, right in front of Clark and the rest of the staff.

She pushed away from him and continued on into the house, without stopping to take off her boots. So there!

Trip flipped on a light in a small hallway, and then in the great room, giving Emery a chance to peer around. The house had all the look and feel of a lodge. A large trophy elk stuck out from above the fireplace mantel. The walls were all a warm tan, the floors dark hardwood, and the stone in the fireplace deep grays and browns. The only pictures in the room were a few on the mantel, all of champion horses, likely all trained by him. Her gaze dropped down to a massive bearskin rug and—crap! She cringed at the mud on her boots, now caked into the rug.

“Oh! I'm . . .” She stepped off the rug and kicked off her boots, but it was no use. The black rug now had Emery-sized mud and grass boot prints across it. “Shoot.” She huffed loudly, aggravated that she even cared, given how he'd treated her, but she knew how much these things cost, and if Trip had shot the bear himself, it wasn't just the expense. The trophy was irreplaceable, and she'd ruined it.

Her gaze lifted to Trip, and he shook his head, his hands on his hips. She couldn't tell if he was about to go off on her again or laugh.

Instead, he took a step toward her, words pouring out quickly. “Look, I'm sorry about earlier. I had no right to talk to you that way. But you are driving me crazy!” He threw his hands into the air. “The memories were enough to kill me, and then you walk into my world, flinging everything off balance.”

“Hey! I'm not the one—”

Another step. “You boss everyone around and give opinions way before you're asked.”

“Wait, now, I didn't—”

Still closer. “And you walk into my house like you own the place.”

“You were the one who—”

He was to her now, a foot away, a breath. “Then, when I think I know what to expect from you, you're on the verge of tears for ruining a rug I could give two shits about.” He lifted her chin and pushed her hair from her face. “I feel like I'm losing my mind every time I'm around you, and yet . . . I can't get enough.”

Emery was too shocked to respond, and then his hands were on her hips, his eyes dipping down to hers, and suddenly there were no words. Only action.

His lips crushed into hers, stealing away her worry and doubt, erasing each fear with his warm touch. She leaned into the kiss, gripping his shirt, securing him to her, and parted her mouth, inviting him in. Trip released a soft groan, and the kiss intensified, heat spreading from her chest out, coating her in it like a blanket, sparking each nerve from her head to her toes. All these weeks, all the tension, built up to this moment, this kiss, and Trip wasn't the only one who couldn't get enough.

Her fingers threaded into his hair and then he lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and walking over to the sofa. He sat down and fixed her to him, her straddling his waist, their lips never separating. She left his mouth to explore his neck, his ear, tasting each bit of skin, enjoying the feel of his breath on her face, the way his body reacted to her touch. It was addicting.

Finally, Trip pulled away, and she had to fight the urge to pout. He laughed, running a thumb over her lips. “No frown. But you're shivering, so I think we should get you into warm clothes.”

Her shivers had nothing at all to do with being cold, and the last thing she wanted was warm clothes. In fact, she wanted to get out of the ones she was wearing and help Trip out of his to see if they could find a different way to keep warm.

He lifted her up and set her beside him, then stood and reached out for her hand. “I don't have any lady clothes here, but I'll give you one of my T-shirts and pajama pants. They'll drown you, but at least they're warm.” He fetched a change of clothes from his bedroom while she waited, and then showed her to a guest bathroom. “Take as long as you need.” His gaze found hers, and she wondered if he would kiss her again, but instead he backed away and ran a hand through his hair, causing it to curl out in a thousand directions. Sweet Jesus... “I'll be out here if you need me.” Then he disappeared back down the hall, and Emery pressed her forehead to the door.

What had she done?

 

Trip couldn't decide if he wanted to punch a wall or shout or knock on the door and carry Emery to his bed, tucking her into his sheets and his world. This was a dangerous game he was playing, and there was a lot more at stake than feelings. This was his reputation, his family's reputation. Already, the journalist from
Racing Today
had zeroed in on them, and that was from a phone conversation. What would the press say when they saw them together?

The thought made him want to puke.

The rain had slowed, and as Trip went to his room to change he thought through the implications of his actions. He could handle the gossip about him, but it wasn't fair to drag his family into this. And that's what this would mean. A media circus for the entire family.

What was he thinking?

Clearly, he wasn't. He thought of his mother's death, and how hard it had been on everyone. She and Alex had gone to eat lunch that day, and he'd told them she'd complained of a headache but refused to go back home. While eating lunch, her headache worsened, so Alex helped her out to the car, prepared to take her back home so she could rest. He'd opened the passenger side door for her, helped her into the seat, and by the time he'd made it around to the driver's side, she was all but gone. She'd spent three days on a ventilator before Carter made the impossible decision to send her to God.

As the oldest, Trip had stepped up, made sure his dad and brothers were okay. That's what he did. And now he was risking so much without even consulting them. But what was he supposed to do? Take it to a vote at the next meeting?

Why couldn't this be easier? If only he could take back his offer for her to work with him, set her up with a new trainer, and claim her as his the moment she agreed. But that wasn't what she wanted, and arrogant to admit it or not, he was the best. Craving Wind was the best. He couldn't turn his back on Emery now. Her career mattered more than his attachment to her. Frustrated, he was shoving his arms into a shirt and pulling it over his head when he heard Emery clear her throat from the open doorway.

“We can't do this . . . can we?”

Trip poked his head through the shirt opening and glanced over at her, all chaotic damp hair and warm smile. His too large T-shirt hung off her ivory shoulder, drawing his attention there. What he wouldn't give to kiss that spot, lick a trail up her neck, but he knew he needed to be more responsible. To think with his brain instead of his . . .

He walked over and ran his fingertips over her exposed shoulder—unable to stop himself—and then took her hands and pressed a kiss to her palm. “I want this. You have no idea how long or how badly I have wanted this. But this is your comeback. It's important. Plus . . .” He didn't want to make it sound like he wasn't willing to risk his career for her, because it wasn't all about him.

“Your family.”

He bit his lip as he peered down at her and nodded slowly. “It would be a press disaster without you working for me. But now . . . we can't just jump into this.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, and she leaned into his touch. “As much as we both want to.”

The storm blew away, bringing with it clearer skies—and clearer thinking. Trip knew this was the right decision. So why did it feel so wrong?

She ducked her head, and Trip wished he could ask what she was thinking, but truthfully, he was afraid she would say something to crack his resolve, and it took every ounce of effort to keep from sweeping her into his arms and taking her to his bed. Screw everything and everyone else. It was so close. He could almost see her in it now.

After a long pause, she tilted her head up, the strong Emery he knew before him. “I understand.”

“I'm not ending this. I'm just . . .”

“Ending it,” she said. Then she took a step back. “Do you think you could take me to my Jeep? It looks like the storm has passed.”

Trip sighed and tucked his hands into his jeans, hating the sadness in her eyes. She could put up a strong front, but her eyes gave her away, and right now they were deep oceans of disappointment. Damn it all to hell.

He grabbed his keys. “Sure. I'll take you now.”

They were in the cart, heading to her car, before he remembered her clothes. “Your things are back at the house.” He started to turn around when she touched his arm.

“I'd just like to go.”

Trip sighed and continued on to the stables, despising himself more and more with each passing moment. He pulled up to her Jeep, the silence too much to bear. “Emery, I . . .”

She stepped out of the cart before he could continue. “I get it; I do. It's fine. Really.”

But nothing about it was at all
fine
.

He thought of begging her to come back to his house, to talk. Anything. But he wasn't sure what he'd say, and he had no right to ask her for anything anyway.

So, instead, Trip sat still and watched as her taillights disappeared down the road, farther and farther away. And then he turned back for his house, more alone than ever.

“N
ow come on, I need you,” Annie said, reaching out a long ivory hand to Emery. She'd known from a young age where she had gotten her very fair skin—and her feisty attitude.

“I'm not stepping foot out of this car,” Emery said, crossing her arms, sure she looked like a five year old, but she didn't care. Why Annie insisted on coming to Triple Run to check out Patty's bakery was a mystery to her. She had everything all set up with Gertie back home. She didn't need Patty, but it was funny how need and want weren't always the same thing, especially when it came to the heart.

Emery thought maybe Annie just wanted to show Patty that she had her own place, and how would she do that without coming to tell Patty personally?

“Okay, fine. I'll give you the house in my will.”

Emery's ears pricked up. She loved that house, had always loved that house, and Annie knew it. “You're playing low now.”

“Woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do. Why are you fighting me on this anyway?”

Emery stared out the passenger window of Annie's Suburban, her thoughts back to standing in Trip's doorway, a wealth of excitement and possibilities bubbling up inside her. Until he turned around and she could see it. The fear, the regret. And nothing made a woman feel worse than seeing regret on a man's face. Lord, she had been so foolish. She'd let her guard down and walked Trip straight into the depths of her heart—again. For him to let her down—again. The trouble was, she liked him, liked being around him. Liked that crooked smile and those warm eyes. Liked how he wore flannel every day and never apologized for himself. And, God above, could he kiss! But now that was all over and they were what—friends?

The word made her want to burst into tears. How had she screwed this up so royally? They were fine, and now it was a plate full of awkward with no silverware around to cut it into manageable bites.

“Oh, honey . . .”

Emery peered over, unaware that her aunt was watching her.

“When did it happen?”

“What?”

Annie huffed loudly. “When did you fall for that hot trainer of yours? I saw the sparks back at the festival, but I thought your sensible side would keep your feelings at bay. At least until after the Derby. Now you've got half a year or more to work with this man, all the while nursing a broken heart? Luck don't get much worse, sugar pie.”

Yeah, well, tell her something she didn't know.

“I just need to forget it. It was one kiss. You can forget a kiss, right?”

Annie patted her hand. “Depends on the kiss. Some stay with us for a lifetime.”

Fantastic.

Emery glanced out the window again, remembering the feel of his hands on her cheeks, his breath on her neck. But she wasn't the kind of woman to get stirred up in emotions. She was driven and focused and had goals that silly things like feelings couldn't get in the way of. The truth was, Trip had done her a favor. She didn't need the distraction. If only she'd been the one to turn him away, or at the very least had told him she agreed with him, but instead she'd showed every bit of her hurt. Stupid, foolish woman!

“Are you okay?” Annie asked, which did little more than anger Emery. Of course she was okay! She didn't let some man ruin who she was, wreck her mood, and leave her sobbing for days. That didn't happen. Female jockeys had enough problems playing in what was very much considered a male sport. She'd learned to tuck away her sensitive side ages ago, and she had no intention of letting it fly free today.

She pushed out of the SUV and stared through the now open door to her aunt.

“What are you doing?” Annie asked.

“I'm going into Patty's. Are you coming or aren't you?”

“Coming!” Annie scrambled from the SUV and patted down her hair, adjusting her purse twice, before nodding to Emery that it was okay to go inside.

Of course, this was Triple Run, Kentucky, not some major city like Atlanta. Patty and whoever she kept on her staff stood at the store's window, watching this entire encounter. Fabulous.

Emery held open the door, motioning for Annie to go on ahead of her, but Annie wanted no part of that and they ended up practically fighting to see who would be forced to go in first. Emery spun out of Annie's grasp right as her aunt gave her a small push into someone inside the store. Jesus in heaven! Emery closed her eyes and shook her head in embarrassment, then flashed a smile and peered up, prepared to give a good Southern, “So sorry about that,” when her gaze locked on the person she'd nearly taken out. Suddenly, a thousand ways to kill Annie-Jean for forcing her there raced through her mind. Forget the house; she'd never speak to her aunt again.

“Hey there, lady girl.”

Emery straightened, very much aware that Trip's hand was still on her arm, initially there to keep her from falling, but now there with no purpose, sending tingles through her, reminding her of how very good those hands felt on her skin.

She swallowed and with effort took a step away from him. “Hey yourself,” she said in her most even voice, though even to her own ears it sounded small. Damn her for getting herself into this mess.

Trip glanced around at the four other women in the store—all of their eyes on Trip and Emery—then back to her. “Do you think . . . can we talk outside for a second?”

Emery couldn't think of anything she'd like to do less than have a conversation with Trip out in the open in Triple Run, where anybody could listen in as he recounted just how much he didn't want her. “Um, I'm here with Annie. She—”

But somehow Annie and Patty were already having their own little exchange, and phrases like backstabbing and confection stealer were being thrown around like snowballs in the middle of a January blizzard.

“Annie?” Emery started over before her aunt's attitude turned to punches. Surely women in their fifties didn't actually fight? But by the daggers coming from Annie and Patty, she couldn't be sure.

Trip stepped beside Patty and Emery beside Annie.

“I didn't steal your recipe, you old bat!” Patty called, ignoring the sidelong looks from the two other patrons in the bakery.

Annie's hands clenched into fists. “You'd never once mixed cranberries and white chocolate, and now you act like it's your signature. Bundts, cookies, cupcakes, all with my recipe inside!”

Patty had placed her hands on her hips and opened her mouth to argue when she readjusted her weight and shook her head. “This is about Blake Williams, isn't it? You were broken up, Annie, and that was more than thirty years ago. I wouldn't have told you if I thought you'd get this angry.”

Blake Williams? Who—oh, no. Emery remembered Annie talking about her first love, the smile on her face that lasted long after the story had ended. She said he'd disappointed her, and Emery thought she'd meant by going to Notre Dame, but maybe there was more to the story.

“Do you think it matters how long ago it was?” Annie half-screamed. “You were my best friend and he was my first love. You knew that.” The pain in Annie's eyes made Emery reach for her hand, but Annie would have no comfort right then and pulled away.

“It was one kiss, when you first got together, before he became your first love. It was a mistake, Annie, which was why we never told you.”

“Yet somehow you felt the need to relieve your conscience twenty-five years later? Do you think I really needed to know at that point?”

Patty shook her head. “You asked about that day and I told you. You were my friend, Annie. I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“There's no kindness in that.”

“So you'd rather I lied?”

“Yes! I didn't want to know it and now I can never unknow it. Some things don't need to be known. Some things don't need the complication. You can live life and go on your way without hashing out every single detail. Live the magic of the moment and go on. I want my moment back, but now it's gone.” Annie dropped her head, and Emery thought her heart might break in two.

Trip's gaze lifted to Emery and she knew what he was thinking. They'd shared a magic moment, and just like with Annie . . . it was gone.

She reached out for her aunt, and this time Annie took hold of her hand, grasping it tightly like she needed a little of Emery's strength to go on. Even after all these years, Annie's heart was still broken, the wound still fresh. “Come on, Annie. I think we're done.”

Annie nodded slowly, and wiped her hand over her eyes as though a tear had fallen. Maybe she was all cried out. “All right, honey. Let's go. We're done here.”

They started away as Trip called out Emery's name, and she peered back at him, wishing they could turn back time and make a thousand different decisions. Instead, they were here, in this moment, and there was no going back.

“Wait, please,” he said.

“It's like Annie said . . . we're done here.”