Clutched (Wild Riders) (3 page)

“Good to see you, too.” I shook Nick's hand and glanced up at the clock. It was a few minutes before nine and Nick and I were currently alone. No Chayse McCade in sight.

“She'll be here,” Nick promised. “I talked to her last night over at the RV lot.”

“Okay,” I said with a nod. It wasn't even nine yet, so I shouldn't have been already taking a mental note about her punctuality, but I was here to find her flaws. To find her weaknesses. Surely, she'd be walking through the door in the next thirty seconds and not giving me something else to worry about.

“Before she gets here,” Nick said, taking a seat and extending his hand to suggest I do the same. “Did you get a chance to watch any of her videos online?”

“I did,” I told him. “It was hard to really get a good feel for her style though. I'd like to get her on the track as soon as possible.”

“Definitely. I want to go over a few things this morning, but then she's all yours,” he paused. “I should warn you... she needs work.”

“I figured after I saw her results. Not to mention, I wouldn't be here if she didn't,” I chuckled.

“True.” Nick smiled. “Her style is a lot like her father's. She seems to have a natural rhythm on the bike. I think it's just a matter of fine-tuning. Maybe getting her a little stronger physically.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “The better shape a rider is in off the track, the better they are on the track.”

“I can have a nutritionist help you with a diet plan if you think that will help,” he offered.

“Am I a race horse or a motocross rider?” The intriguing, yet irritated tone of her raspy voice had me spinning in my chair.

Neither Nick nor I had even noticed that she'd walked into the room. But once I got my first real look at her, she was impossible not to notice.

Long dark hair hung past her shoulders framing her face. She was much too pretty to hide her face under a helmet. In fact, she was flat out fucking sexy. Full pouty lips, perfectly proportioned features and almond-shaped eyes, the same chocolate shade as her hair which were currently casting glances between Nick and I and laced with disapproval.

“You could have at least waited for me so I could be present for this evaluation,” she added, crossing her arms over her chest. I had to force myself not to stare at the smooth taut skin covering the ample cleavage her arms thrusted upward. The gray V-neck t-shirt she was wearing clung to the curves of her chest, just like the black jeans she was wearing hugged her ass and hips.

Cool your jets, dipshit
.

I tried to remind myself that I was here to check out a rider, not check out a woman, but her online presence didn't do her justice in many aspects.

She was a full-blown, punch-a-guy-in-the-gut, leave-you-gasping-for-breath knockout.

I made a mental note not to let myself get distracted by her appearance.

“Good morning, Chayse,” Nick said, stifling a little bit of the tension. “This is not an evaluation,” he insisted. “Hoyt and I were just going over some of the options for your training.”

“I see.” Her eyebrows rose conveying her skepticism. “For the record, I have eight-percent body fat so I think my
diet
is just fine.” She wasn't lying. From where I was sitting her body appeared to be the least of my concerns. Or, maybe, the most of them judging from way I was salivating.

Focus, Travers.

I cleared my throat before even trying to speak and stood up. “It's nice to meet you,” I said extending my hand to her. “Hoyt Travers.”

I could see her chewing the inside of her lip as she gave me the once over. Seconds seemed like eternity as I waited for her shake my hand. I thought she might leave me hanging—which would have been totally humiliating. When she placed her slender fingers in mine, I felt a sense of relief. Along with a sense of panic due to the increased blood flow in a specific southern region.

“Chayse McCade,” she said, letting her lips curl up slightly. “The jury is still out on whether or not this is nice.” She was still smiling slightly, but I could tell by the seriousness in her eyes that she was not joking. This girl was guarded and skeptical. I made another mental note, even though I was certain she'd remind me daily.

“I'm looking forward to working with you,” I said, looking her straight in the eyes. The longer her hand was in mine, the tighter her grip became. Not to the point of pain. I'm not even sure it was intentional on her part. Her hands were soft, yet strong, in a way that made me want to get her to bend. To break. To give into me.

Flashes of her on her back staring up at me started to generate in my head. Her lips begging for me to satisfy her. Her eyes glazed over in bliss that I would deliver with my hands and mouth. Her body would be pleading—writhing—for more.

“Why don't we all take a seat and go over a few things,” Nick said, bringing my train of thought to an abrupt halt. Thankfully.

My breathing was shallow and almost nonexistent when she pulled her hand from mine. My head was all over the place. On the track, in the conference room, and, apparently, making stops in my bedroom with the woman now seated across from me. I was in serious fucking trouble if I couldn't get it together.

“First things first,” Nick said, interrupting my thoughts before sliding packets of paper in front of both me and Chayse. “Here are your contracts. Both are pretty basic. Yours,” he said, looking at Chayse, “lists exactly what you'll be getting from Throttled Energy. Bike, gear, training, et cetera, and what we will be expecting from you in return.” Her eyes quickly scanned the top paper. “And yours, Hoyt,” he turned his attention to me. “Salary, expectations, a non-compete clause.”

“Non-compete?”

“It just states that you are agreeing to exclusively work with Throttled and our riders. If our arrangement should happen to not work out, which I'm not foreseeing as a problem,” he added with a grin. “You must wait at least twelve months before taking a position with another team. Like I said, I don't see this as an issue. And, as long as you’re with us you can work with any of our riders. Chayse, your brother, Brett. All clear.”

I nodded as I read the other paragraphs.

Position description. Benefits provided following thirty-day probationary period. Reimbursement for all work related expenses.
Everything seemed standard, as Nick had said. The last line made me grin.
Behavior unbecoming to the Throttled Energy brand will not be tolerated.

As if I'd ever done anything unbecoming. My brother was the risk taker, not me. I'd always been the one bailing him out of trouble and reminding him not to do anything stupid.

“Okay,” I said, taking the pen he was holding out for me. Throttled had always been good to my brother, so I had no reasons to think they wouldn't treat me the same way as long as I did what I was hired to do. The salary line of the contract was definitely sweetening the pot. It was more money than I'd ever made in one year that was for sure. I signed the bottom paper and slipped the packet back to Nick.

Chayse hadn't signed hers yet. She was reading back over it for the second time. I liked that she was taking her time with it. It showed that she was at least able to look before she leaped. I hoped it translated to her riding.

“Do you two have any questions for me or each other before I turn you loose on the track?” Nick asked.

“Nothing specific,” I said. “I'd really like to see her,” I stopped myself realizing that Chayse had shifted in her seat. Seeing as how she hadn't taken too kindly at being talked about earlier, I turned my attention to her. “I'd really like to see
you
ride first.” I held her gaze momentarily, still wondering exactly how I was going to be able to hold a conversation with her and stop my mind from wandering to places it shouldn't wander. This would have been so much easier if Chayse was a dude.  At least then I wouldn't have the random scenes popping in my head that included, but were not limited to, bending her over this conference table that separated us.

“I'm good too,” she said. “Wait...” she paused. “Actually, I'd like to know more about you, Hoyt.”

“I'm an open book,” I replied. I'd be happy answer any questions she had, especially if she kept batting those brown eyes at me.

“What's your race record? Are you still going to compete while we're training?”

“Unimpressive and no, I don't compete anymore.”

“Why?” She blurted out her question as if not competing was an alien concept. “Injury?”

“No,” I said shaking my head. “By choice.”

“Why would you do that? If you're as good as Nick says you are, why don't you want to be on the track?” As much as I liked her no-holds-barred conversation skills, this was starting to feel like an interrogation.

“Being in the race has never really been my thing. I do my best work on the sidelines.”

“If you don't compete how can I trust that you have any idea what you're doing? Most coaches are professionals or at least retired professionals,” she said. My tolerance level for her attitude was quickly declining. “Are you sure he's the best choice for me?” she asked Nick.

Clearly she didn’t mind talking about me as if I wasn’t sitting right there.

“I can assure you that I know what I'm doing,” I told her, my voice deepened. “I have some—”

“How old are you?” she interrupted me before I could even begin to explain why I was a good choice to be her coach.

“How old are you?” I fired back. “What does my age have to do with anything?” I could feel the heat rising up my chest. I was usually so calm and collected. This girl was saying all the wrong things and my blood pressure was agreeing.

“Nineteen,” she answered. “And your age...your experience has a lot to do with it.”

“My experience speaks for itself,” I said confidently. “You're the one that's a rookie here,” I reminded her. “If you didn't need help in the first place we wouldn't even be having this conversation.”

“Please,” she said. “I could ride circles around this place with my eyes closed.”

Apparently I could check her being confident in her abilities off of my list. This meeting was not going anything like I'd planned. I wanted things to be simple. To be easy. Or straightforward at the very least. She obviously had other plans.

“I doubt Nick would have asked me to be here if he didn't think I was capable of job.”

“If you say so,” she said. I was seconds away from telling Nick I didn't think I could work with someone who obviously didn't listen. “I mean, unless your brother got you the job.”

What the fuck did she just say to me?

“I can assure you that he didn't,” I said pointedly. At least I hoped he didn't. My fist clenched in my lap under the table. This chick was all kinds of backwards if she honestly thought I was the kind of guy that had my brother get me a job. “I don't need my brother to do anything for me.”

“Hoyt earned this position on his own merit, Chayse,” Nick assured her.

I couldn’t tell for certain which one of us was more relieved to hear that.

“J
ust like you earned the position on yours,” Nick added. “He's not in here accusing you of riding your father's coattails.”

“No he's not,” I replied. “Although, I'd have to know where my father was if I wanted to ride his coattails,” I told them, earning confused looks from both of them. “My dad hasn't really been a big part of my life,” I explained, earning pitying looks from both of them. Exactly what I didn't want or need. Maybe I was being a little hard on Hoyt, but the guy looked as young as I was. If nothing else, I'd learned that using his brother to get ahead was a hot button for this guy. “I’m just a little on edge. First day jitters, I guess. Sorry,” I said, hoping to stop both Nick and Hoyt from sitting there thinking about me being some poor fatherless girl.

“Don't be,” Nick said. “I promise that we only have your best interest in mind,” he added, looking down at the contract I hadn't signed yet. He placed his hand on mine, giving it a gentle squeeze.

I drew in a breath through my nose and nodded.

“Okay.” I trusted Nick. He hadn't done anything to lead me astray yet. And I wanted to trust Hoyt. Even if I was still unsure that he had what it took to offer anything useful to my career. I believed in taking chances. I had to. It wasn't like anything else was going on in my life. I certainly didn't want to go back to working the front desk at Frank's Payday Loans or waiting tables at the Burger Palace in Reno.

As I drew my pen across the paper, reading the fine print once more. All of the stipulations and expectations were a lot to take in.
Be this, wear that, act this way...
all par for the course, I imagined. After my conversation with Nick last night, I was well aware that I was expected to be on my best behavior. Hoyt seemed to have no trouble signing his contract and the last thing I wanted either of them to think was that I didn't understand mine. I understood it just fine. I was pretty much giving over the reins of my life to the two men sitting in front of me. One who had probably never even sat on a bike and the other... well... like I said the jury was still out on him.

His answers to my questions certainly hadn't solidified anything, but at least he wasn't terrible to look at. The handsome gene definitely ran deep in the Travers' bloodline.

Where Reid Travers was rugged, his brother was more boyishly charming, yet still masculine. Both had similar features: sun-kissed brown hair, dimpled smiles, and dark piercing eyes. Hoyt was clean-shaven and his skin, unlike Reid's, was untouched by needles of ink. I had to admit, it was refreshing. Most of the guys I was around, especially motocross guys, felt the need to litter their skin and features with tattoos and piercings.

If I hadn't been so irritated hearing them talk about me as if I was a piece of property when I walked into the conference room, I might have actually enjoyed checking him out. The contract hadn't helped with my cynicism. I wanted this deal with Throttled to work as much as Nick and Hoyt did, but my years of being let down had tainted the sunshine cheery disposition it seemed they expected me to have.