Clutched (Wild Riders) (8 page)

“Who me?” he said, giving her a skeptical look. “I'm a teddy bear,” he said.

“You can be.” She grinned. “But you listen about as well as a deaf man. And, you have a head as hard as brick.”

“If I wasn't so damn stubborn we wouldn't be sitting here right now, would we?”

“Good point.” She shrugged and tilted her head sweetly to the side. “I want to meet this girl,” Nora said turning her attention back to me. “We're going to Mill Valley tomorrow. Will she be there?”

“She never leaves,” I told them, thinking about how Chayse had asked me to okay her leaving the property for a few nights. Maybe I was being too hard on her. Maybe a break would get her to stop hating me.

“I'm going to hit the track for a few hours in the morning if you want me to ride with her. Maybe I can be a buffer for the two of you.”

“That'd be great,” I told him. “She'll probably listen better to you anyway. She's still giving me shit about not being an accomplished rider.”

“You know more about riding than any of us,” Reid said. “I'll make sure to let her know that tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” I told him before filling my face with spaghetti. Tomorrow I'd worry about her and whether or not I could keep my mind focused around her. Tonight I was gorging myself on Becky Bennett's sauce.

* * *

T
he next morning, I was on the track bright and early. Between the constant chatter in my head about what I could do to make Chayse a better rider and what happened yesterday, I couldn't sleep. The one bright spot had been the smile on Chayse's face when I told her that we were skipping the gym and headed straight for the track that morning. She didn't say a word about our discussion last night, which was fine by me. If we could pretend that the whole thing in the shed hadn't happened the better off we both would be.

“Go!” I yelled and wound my hand in the air telling her to up her speed on the straightaway when she flew by. Reid was putting her through her paces on the track. I heard the uptick of the throttle and knew that she'd taken my suggestion. Her last lap time was a microsecond better than before so I had to agree that riding with Reid was a good idea.

“Well?” she asked when she pulled her helmet off and shut off the bike. I was taken for a split second by the way her long hair glistened in the sunlight as it fell around her shoulders. Even sweating and dirty from riding she was beautiful.

Ugh.

“It was a little better,” I told her. “Plenty to work on still,” I said, holding up my notepad to show her the list I'd jotted down as I'd watched her.

“Great,” she said half-hardheartedly. At least she was kind of interested in what I had to say.

“Not too bad, kiddo,” Reid told her when he pulled up next to her. “You nearly had me on the back half.”

“When you ride with the best...” She shrugged with a grin.

“Keep a tight grip on the turns and I think you'll be even faster,” Reid told her.

“I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for riding with me today.”

“I'm glad you can take advice from at least one, Travers.” I muttered and shook my head. Just when I thought I couldn't get more annoyed with her she went and got all “I'll keep that in mind” with my brother. “Let's hit the gym this after lunch.”

She nodded her head and started to speak when Nora bounced up next to us.

“Nice job, babe,” she said, giving Reid a peck on the cheek. “And you too, missy,” she said to Chayse.

“Thank you,” Chayse replied. “I'm Chayse by the way.” She extended her hand to Nora.

“Nora. It's so nice to meet you,” Nora said to Chayse as she pulled her into a hug, nearly knocking her off her bike. That was Nora for you. The girl had never met a stranger. “Hoyt has told us a lot about you.”

“He has?” The look on Chayse's face was priceless. One part confusion, one part terror. “I imagine he's told you I'm a pain in the ass.”

“He hasn't,” Nora assured her, sneaking me a glance that had “you're welcome” written all over it. As grateful that I was that Nora hadn't given Chayse another reason to hate me, it was time to eat lunch and get to the gym. They could bond over their estrogen another time.

“Are you ready to go?” I asked Chayse.

“He's told us that you're a fantastic rider,” Nora added. “You really did look great out there today.”

“I told you she
could
be a fantastic rider,” I corrected. “If we could get a workout in today that would be great.”

“All right. I'm going,” Chayse said before she rode off.

“We'll see you at the party tomorrow night,” Nora yelled after her.

I felt the sting of Nora's hand against my shoulder and had to wait for the rumble of Chayse's bike to fade before I could ask her what the hell that was for.

“Ouch,” I said, rubbing my hand down my arm. “What was that about?”

“Seriously?” Nora said pointedly. “You're a jerk.”

“You spoke to her for five seconds and you're already taking her side?” I shook my head. “I thought we were family,” I added with a wounded smile.

“Hos over bros,” she said, earning a chuckle from Reid. “You could have at least agreed with me about the fantastic rider part of our conversation. Did you see the poor girl's face when you offered up your two-cents?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You hurt her feelings.”

“You think we have time for that out here?” I asked, pointing at the track. “This is motocross, Nora. We're here to ride, not to sit around discussing what does and doesn't hurt our feelings. If she wanted that she would have joined a sorority and not a race team.”

“You were kind of short with her,” Reid offered. “She's really good. You could have told her good job at least.”

“You are too smart to be this stupid,” Nora said, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head. “She might be a motocross rider, but she's still a girl and whether you like it or not she has feelings.”

I let out a huff and rolled my eyes at the both of them as I walked away. They were supposed to be there to help me not make me question my entire coaching style. Feelings? I had zero time for feelings. Even if I had any of them for Chayse, neither of us could afford to acknowledge them on or off the track.

N
ow don't get me wrong, I loved a party as much as the next girl—maybe even more than the next girl—but the one I was currently being forced to attend was not my cup of tea. The upper crust of Throttled were congratulating themselves on their investments over champagne. Not at all what I imagined when Nick said we were having a meet and greet. I imagined down to earth motocross riders who had a little extra cash to throw around. Nope. Not these guys. They were oil heirs and white collar big wigs that probably didn't know the first thing about a dirt bike.

The one that did—the founder of Throttled Energy—took off after a quick “hello, how are you?” I'd heard about the illusive Donovan Murray, but tonight was the first time I'd actually saw him. Briefly, but still. I almost didn't recognize him in his suit and tie. He was more of a board shorts and flip flops kind of guy.

He was famous for taking his love of extreme sports to the limit. He rode anything with wheels, jumped off the highest peaks and buildings, and had traveled the world several times over. He was a legend. I was looking forward to officially meeting him when I learned that he'd already taken off in his private helicopter and headed back to his compound. Chalk that up on the list of disappointments that the night was handing out like escort tickets on the Vegas strip.

I had to give Robert and Marjorie credit for transforming the Main Hall, which was usually littered with rough and rowdy riders, into a sophisticated venue. Cocktail tables were scattered around with beautiful floral centerpieces on each. The lighting was soft and the jazz music lofting through the air set the mood for all the schmoozing I was expected to do.

As for the rest of the riders, they were standing around looking about as comfortable as a whore in church. Link was fighting with his neck tie and commiserating with the rest of the hooligans that would have much rather been on two wheels. I, on the other hand, couldn't commiserate with them. Not with Nick leading me around the place like a show pony. Hell, I couldn't even have a damn drink. Nick reminded me that I was only nineteen and that it would look bad if a minor was drinking. I wanted to tell him that I'd been sneaking booze since I'd learned what it was and could handle my alcohol just fine. It would have been nice to at least take the edge off of this monotony, but I supposed it would be even better of an idea to not ruffle any feathers.

“This is Chayse McCade,” he said on more than one occasion. “Throttled's newest investment.”

Their newest investment thankfully still had a little black cocktail dress in the back of her trailer. I'd worked as a hostess in a fancy Italian restaurant for about five minutes before I decided I wasn't exactly hostess material. I'd put a few curls in my hair and thrown on some mascara before pulling on a pair of black ankle boots.

“We can't wait to see you ride,” one of the investors said. I think Nick had introduced him as Harrison Turnbold. It was impossible to keep all the names in my head. I'd met nearly everyone in the room. “We've heard from Nick here that you're quite fast.”

“I try to be,” I said, plastering on a fake smile. “That's kind of the whole idea, right?” The old man's eyes lit up with laughter as he nodded in agreement.

“You win, we win,” he said. “How is your training going? Didn't we hire a coach for you?”

Before I had a chance to tell him that my training was going just fine, Nick spoke up.

“We did hire her a coach. Hoyt Travers. He's a miracle worker. Already shaved two seconds off her lap times.”

Here we go...

He'd shaved seconds off? How about I'd been busting my ass for two months and shaved them off myself. Hoyt had given me some suggestions... that was it. I was the rider, not Hoyt Travers. The only thing he was responsible for was driving me insane.

“I'm working really hard,” I inserted myself back into the conversation. “I promise you won't be disappointed on race day.”

Nick gave me nod letting me know that I was doing my part to uphold my duties.
“Make the investors believe in you,”
he'd told me.
“They need to see that we are making good choices with their money.”
I didn't see Hoyt out here making anyone believe he was doing a damn thing. The last time I'd seen him he was throwing back a beer with his brother over in the corner. I glanced over to where he'd been standing before. Yep. Same spot. He hadn't moved all damn night. He nodded when our eyes locked to acknowledge that he'd seen me.

How gracious of him.

The prick could nod all he wanted. Even if he did look like a dream come true in that tie, I wasn't going to nod back. After he'd raced me out on to the track and beat me at my own game, I was a little sour. He was not my favorite person, even if he did look ridiculously sexy riding that bike when he beat me at my own game. And now here he was looking equally as hot in a tie. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled and bunched up around his forearms. The way his shirt stretched across his chest looked like it would be a down right joy to unbutton. I hated that I was attracted to him almost as much as I hated that he didn't have to suffer this torture with me.

“Would you like to meet him?” I asked. “The miracle worker?” If I was going to be subjected to all of these questions, I was bringing him into the mix. Misery loves company. I excused myself before anyone had a chance to object.

“The investors would like to meet you and hear about my training,” I said when I approached Hoyt and Reid. The two of them were all smiles until I walked up. Hoyt's faded almost instantly.

“Go on,” Reid said to his brother with a smile. “I'm ready to get out of here anyway. I made my rounds. They already know I win races.” He chuckled. “You ready, babe?” Nora was standing next to Reid looking about as enthralled as I was by the whole thing.

“Absolutely.” She laced her fingers through his. The way they were with one another was a sweet reminder that romance wasn't completely dead. “We have to go back home to Illinois, but I'd love to have lunch or coffee when we come back to Texas, Chayse.”

“That sounds nice,” I replied. I wasn't sure what it was about her yet, but I liked her. She had a fire in her eyes that I could relate to. Not to mention, she was the first female that I'd talked to in quite some time. It might be kind of nice to have a girl friend that understood this crazy motocross world. The two of them walked off and I turned my attention to Hoyt. “Ready?”

“Yeah... let's get this over with.” I could see the concern on his face. What was this? The usually overly prepared Hoyt Travers was nervous. I tried to hide my amusement as I led him back over to where Nick was standing with Turnbold. The way he was pursing his lips deep in thought as we approached was almost endearing. I wouldn't let that take away from the satisfaction of knowing that he, in fact, did have feelings. He seemed so one dimensional that I was starting to wonder—like his brain was hardwired for motocross and nothing else.

I introduced Hoyt and waited for him to choke on his words. Maybe this is why he wasn't a racer. Maybe he couldn't handle the pressure. He cleared his throat after Turnbold asked him what kind of regime he had me on.

“We're in the gym five days a week and on the track six,” Hoyt said. The nervousness disappeared from his face the second he started talking. “We're making some real progress.”

Ugh.
Figured. At least for a moment I got a chance to see that he wasn't a robot.

“Do you think that she'll live up to her daddy's name?” Turnbold asked. “That's a tough act to follow. He was such a great racer.”

“I think she'll do just fine,” Hoyt said. I was still trying to bite back my words about my father.

“The McCade name is sure to sell some tickets,” Turnbold added. “When Nick told us he had Rick's daughter it was a no brainer.”

My stomach jumped up into my throat successfully stopping any words from exiting my mouth. I felt my nails biting into my skin as I balled my hand into a fist.