Chloe's Secret (2 page)

“So, what did you want me to see here, Grams? Which one is he favoring?”

“Other side and it’s only once in a while. I thought maybe it’d heal after a few days of rest so I left him and brought Goliad instead—until today. It’s been a couple weeks though, and he’s still not using it as I thought he would, but he doesn’t want to stay home.”

He did a once over of the leg, took the halter and pulled the horse forward, then had her pull him back.

“Grams, Bullwhip is old. It’s probably arthritis. I can give you a prescription but—he doesn’t need to be here working. He should be hanging out in the pastures. Let him retire. You have more than enough horses to take these routes.”

“I can’t do that to him. He’s too much like his mom, he lives for this.”

“Are you willing to make him die for it?”

“Colton James Scott.” There she went, using his full name, which meant there was a scolding to be dealt. “You don’t tell me how to take care of my horses and I won’t tell you how to run that rinky-dink vet clinic of yours.”

“It’s not exactly rinky-dink. When’s the last time you came by? We opened two more clinics last year and we’re boarding at the main one now. You should see it.”

“I don’t have time to drive all the way out that far and you know it.”

“Grams. It’s only twenty minutes. You know, Bullwhip’s not the only one that needs a little rest. How much longer do you intend to keep doing this? Last year, you ended up in the hospital with pneumonia for two weeks. What’s it going to be this year?”

She lifted a finger and prodded it to his chest. “I was only sick because I let you talk me into that trip out to Colorado to see Sadie. If I’d stayed here, I would have been fine.”

“Sadie’s your only daughter-in-law and she needed our help. You know you loved that trip. And you got sick because you refused to stay inside and bundle up, you old hardhead.”

“She should just come back here and stay with us. We could use her help.” Colton registered the way she still referred to herself as part of the couple she’d been for fifty-three years. Gramps had been gone for four, but she seldom acknowledged it. She was right about Gracie though.

“Yeah, well she’s a little hardheaded too, isn’t she?”

“No kidding.”

“Wonder where she gets that from?” He raised a brow and peered over the horse’s mane at the soft face that hid a mountain of strength.

A young couple walked up to them holding hands and asked for a ride. Grams helped them into the carriage and came around beside Colton.

“I’ll take him home after this.” She hugged Colton around the waist; her head barely reaching his collarbone.

“And leave him there, please? You know it’d be bad for business if he keeled over in the street.”

“I’d love to, but he won’t have it, lately every day I go out to the truck and he’s already loaded himself in. I think he knows.”

“Then don’t leave the trailer ramp down at night. You only do that because he loves it and it’s easier for you. Close it up. Or park it on the other side of the barn where he can’t get to it.”

Colton followed as she climbed into the carriage. There was undercurrent in her words. He didn’t know what it was, but there was more. Colton sighed as she flipped the lines and gently nudged the horse to the street. He’d take a trip to the farm next chance he had.

No idea where he’d find the time. His new roommate was wearing him out, the clinic was busy as hell, and now he’d taken on that new job. The one that his insane best friend told him was going to be fun. Like he needed that. So far, it was more of a pain than anything.

Chapter 2

When my cell phone rang the Saturday morning after my carriage ride, I considered not answering. I had to be in the right frame of mind for my mother or I’d say something wrong. I often did and then she’d either get all weepy or fly off the handle and yell.

“Hey, Mom.”

The voice on the other end seemed stilted. “So, are you ready for me to bring over your inheritance?”

“Not really.”
My inheritance. Ha.
My father must have been drunk when he wrote his will. I never understood why he left me that stupid deathtrap. For a man that never crossed the street without planning the best route, he had really confused me with his seemingly idiotic gesture. He could have just left it to Mom. She would have sold it and that’d be the end of it.

Only I knew she wouldn’t have sold it. She still had his shoes sitting on the floor by the back door and his clothes in the closet. I wondered if my inheritance was covered in dust as well.

“Well, you’re getting it anyway. Your brother’s in town and he’s going to drop by this afternoon. Sign yourself up for the classes so you can learn to drive it.”

I stared at the phone. She had lost her mind. “Mom, I—”
Click.
I hated it when she did that.

What in the hell am I going to do with a motorcycle?

I said it out loud four hours later when I stood with hands on hips outside my condo, staring at the intricate design Dad had painted on the side of it.

“Not just a motorcycle, Tess, this is a heritage classic. Dad had it custom painted and chromed out. You won’t see another bike like this anywhere.” My brother, Tanner stood next to me. “I can’t believe he gave it to you. What a waste.”

I punched him in the arm. “You’re just jealous.”

“Sure am. And if you wreck, I’ll kill you.”

“You have to actually drive it to wreck it. Why don’t you take it?”

Tanner sighed. “If Dad had wanted me to have it, I would. He had a reason. Beats the hell out of me what it was but remember—It’s not meant to sit in the garage either.”

“I don’t know anything about motorcycles and I’m so busy at work, I doubt I’d have time to learn.”

“Your boss still working you nights and weekends?” He grabbed a rag from the saddlebag and started wiping the chrome on the side of the bike.

“He doesn’t do it intentionally. He just waits until the last minute to ask for something and then I have no choice. Besides, if I ever plan to be a manager I have to pay the dues, right?”

Tanner shrugged. “If that’s what you want.” A car pulled to the curb and honked. “There’s my ride. See ya later, sis.” He hugged me and jogged toward the car.

I stared at the contraption for about three seconds before I closed the garage to my condo and went back inside. Thankfully this place had room for two cars, otherwise it wouldn’t stay. No idea why I’d rented a place with two bedrooms and a garage. I guess it was wishful thinking, just like all the big rooms without a lick of furniture in them. My future management job would fill the rooms and the garage with better things and maybe even an interesting relationship.

Yet, my year lease was due for renewal soon and that management job never had materialized. When I signed the lease I fully expected to earn the promotion quickly based on everything my boss had said. The fact that I hadn’t was something I worried over at least two or three times a day. My future in this condo depended on reaching a certain income level and I was still a few hundred dollars a month shy.

I hated uncertainty.

Chapter 3

Three weeks later, I sat in the first classroom I’d entered in some time staring at a picture of a black motorcycle with all sorts of chrome and flames embellishing it. It was shadowed by more pictures of other “wheels” some of which had a hot girl in leather adorning them. Oh, brother.

I had almost ditched the class because I’d had a really long day at work. I forced myself to attend for my dad. Or at least that’s what I told myself. I still didn’t understand why he’d left that stupid thing to me, but if he wanted me to have it, the least I could do was make an effort. Right?

Around the room sat a variety of people of all ages, most of them dressed in jeans and Harley Davidson t-shirts. The women were mostly older and I was surprised at how many tattoos could actually go on a seventy-something looking woman who obviously chain-smoked. I knew it was a cliché to assign some of the labels I did, but it was impossible not to.

“Good evening, everyone.”

A low, rumbling voice came from behind me and I didn’t turn to see it. I knew it would likely be a sixty-something man with long gray hair and beard—tattoo-covered, of course. I was completely stunned to watch the more than fit body of a man who had to be barely older than my twenty-six years pass. His jeans fit loosely yet close enough to let me know that he had some sort of athletic ability besides just motorcycles. “I’m Colton, I’ll be your instructor for the next few—”

When he turned and surveyed the room, his eyes collided with mine.
Great.
My instructor was the smartass who had lifted me like a bag of dog food last week.

“—weeks. The next two nights, we’ll cover the material for the written test. We’ll take the test on Friday evening and jump right into the driving portion of the class on Sunday afternoon. You’re going to love this.”

I seriously doubted that, but I’d give him the benefit of the doubt. For now. The man passed out a bunch of papers and our class spent the next two hours going over boring safety details regarding the use of a motorcycle. As much as I hated to admit it, I enjoyed the class. Especially watching my instructor move around, write on the whiteboard, and perch seductively on the end of the table while we watched videos. Videos of traffic accidents and safety hazards for bikers. The class was over in no time and it surprised me that I was disappointed.

“My grandmother liked you,” the sexy voice I’d listened to for the past couple of hours said as I slipped the papers into my bag and headed for the door.

I jolted around. “Huh?”

“You rode her carriage last week. She said you were cute.”

“The carriage lady is your grandmother?” I realized my voice sounded a little condescending and I wished I’d taken a minute or two before speaking.

His eyes darkened a smidge. I hit a nerve obviously. “Yes, on my father’s side. Have a good night.” He turned, grabbed a backpack from the floor and left.

I cringed at my stupidity. Sometimes I just blurted out things without thinking them through, and the result had been a bit—insulting.

As I walked out of the classroom and through the store, which was conveniently positioned so the students would have every opportunity to buy more shirts, boots, and motorcycle paraphernalia, I saw Colton standing behind the counter. He spoke to another man, the one I had expected would teach the class.

“I’m sorry.” He slid a glance my way. “I didn’t mean to sound insulting about your grandmother.”

I wasn’t prepared for a smile. It was only a slight one and his lips twitched as if he fought it, but it was there. And it was warm. All the motorcycle parts around me seemed to close in and I felt claustrophobic.

“Don’t worry. This big, bad, motorcycle ridin’ boy doesn’t get his feelings hurt that easily.”

So, he remembered my smartass comment. I cocked my head, trying not to smile back. “Well, well then. I liked her too, you know. She told me a great story.”

“No surprise there.” He moved down the counter, away from the other man, toward me. “Grams loves to tell stories.”

I wanted to ask him about Chloe, about the love triangle the woman had discussed. After searching his face for a few minutes, I realized that if she had told me that in confidence, it would be wrong to spill the beans with her very own grandson. Sometimes people tell you things simply because they need to, and telling them to a stranger usually doesn’t hurt much. Had she told this man in front of me, it might have stung a lot more.

“Why are you taking the class?” he asked.

“What? You don’t think I can ride a bike?”

“That’s not why I asked. Half the time you were there, you were checking messages and texting someone. Seems to me you didn’t want to be there.”

The guy was way too perceptive for me. I
didn’t
want to be there but it’s what Dad wanted. Mom would never have given it to me if she didn’t want me to follow through on it, and I’d feel guilty as well. I wasn’t really texting though—I took a picture of his backside and sent it to Tanner with a caption
enjoying class.

“So, you work here?” I thought I’d better change the subject.

“Not really.” Colton rounded the corner of the counter, his bag over his shoulder, and followed me toward the door. “I’m teaching the classes as a favor for Sam.” He thumbed toward the man he’d left.

“Why is that a favor?”

“I’ve known Sam a while, he thinks I work too much.”

“Do you?”

His voice made me feel good. Warm and resonating, like the engine of a—motorcycle. I frowned at the strange comparison.

“My job requires it so, yeah, I work a lot.”

“So your job isn’t teaching people to ride motorcycles then, is it?”

“I’m a veterinarian. I was checking on her horse when you ran into me the other day.”

He waved and walked away so abruptly I had my mouth open and wasn’t sure how to respond. A veterinarian? Vets don’t look like that, do they? They wear Wrangler jeans and cowboy boots, and shirts with snaps instead of buttons. He wore Levis and t-shirts. I looked at his feet. Well, not cowboy boots, but still boots.

I spent the next two evenings in class, soaking in his voice. It grew so comforting that I knew I’d hate it when the class was over. Fortunately, I had been so concentrated on his words I aced the written test. I had his words memorized, gilded into memory. They slid right out of my fingers onto the paper like silk. When I left on Friday, all that remained were two Sundays of driving lessons. It bothered me. And I didn’t like that it bothered me.

I was almost riding a motorcycle, which was apparently my Dad’s dying wish. Personally, he should have picked a loftier goal.

Sitting on the trunk of my car in deep fog on Sunday morning, I felt isolated. Deep in my own personal little world that was separated only by lack of visibility. A shadow approached and I knew I was no longer the first one to arrive. Another student’s talk dark silhouette glided toward me in the mist.

Only it wasn’t a student.

It was Colton.