Racing Hearts (21 page)

A
lex Hamilton groaned as he rolled over in bed, the taste of gin still on his lips, his throat cottony from a hangover he couldn't afford to have. Cursing himself, he sat up and immediately groaned again at the ringing in his ears and the pain slicing through the center of his brain. Why the hell did he drink? He'd asked himself that single question on more occasions than he could count, each one with the same answer—no damn clue. And no damn sense.

Pushing out of his sheets, he stood, stretching his long and lean body until the joints in his back cracked, then started for the shower, when his foot hit a pair of boots on the floor. Boots that weren't his and weren't male, for that matter. He lifted one very tall black boot into the air, curious how anyone managed to walk on such a high heel, but being thankful all the same, because damn he loved a woman in knee high boots. All this went through his mind without much thought as to who belonged in these boots, until he heard someone clearing her throat from behind him. Shit.
Please tell me she isn't still in my—

“Good morning, handsome.”

Alex turned slowly to find a very blond and very young woman in his bed. His first thought and worry was whether he had ever stopped to ask her age.

She stepped out of his bed, not caring to cover her naked body. There was once a time that Alex would have appreciated her audacity, but that time had long come and gone. He missed female modesty and soft smiles, the looks and actions of a Southern lady. The kind of lady his mother would have liked if she were still alive. And in two years, he'd only been with one woman who met that description, but she'd walked away or maybe he'd walked away. Still, months later he wasn't sure which of them had actually left.

Staring at the woman before him, Alex found her nakedness grated on his nerves. Of course, he too stood with nothing on, and feeling a tinge of unease about that fact, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the woman.

Her gaze dipped down to his lower half, still very exposed despite the whole crossing his arms thing. As if she'd read his thoughts, she said, “It's Brittany, and I'm twenty-two.”

Alex didn't know if he should congratulate her or show her out. He'd never heard someone reveal her age with such pride. Again, he wondered what the hell he was doing. He had to be at the foaling barn in an hour, and knowing his brother, he was already—

Before he could finish the thought, his cell vibrated against his nightstand and he glanced over. He didn't want to take the call in front of the girl, but then he caught Trip's name flashing across the screen.

“Look,” he said to Brittany. “I hate to play and run, but I've got a busy schedule and...” The phone vibrated again, supporting his story.

“Play and run?” She grabbed up her clothes and jerked her dress down over her body, hopping as she pulled on her boots. “Play and run! Who even says that? I'll see myself out.” Then she stopped at the door and spun around. “And when Trip asks why I quit, just let him know I refuse to work with his jackass of a brother.”

She slammed the door shut and Alex cringed, searching his mind for a Brittany who worked at the farm, and that was when he remembered his conversation with Trip the week before. New exercise rider, Brittany Light. Well, there went that.

Taking his phone from his nightstand, he texted his brother that he'd see him in twenty, then jumped in the shower to wash off the night, his thoughts on the week he had before him. Calls with two stud farms, vet checks on the broodmares, and hopefully a flight out to Ireland later in the week.

Soaring Star was ovulating, and though he still wasn't 100 percent sure that Pirate Pete was the best match for her to produce a champion, he couldn't argue with Pete's pedigree. He'd long since known that breeding was less science, more art, and he was close to finding the perfect balance. If only he could keep Trip off his back long enough to make a decision.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped out of his shower, only to hear his phone vibrate again. Sighing, he hit answer and said, “Give me ten,” before hanging up and walking to his closet, throwing on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, and shoving on his boots. Shaking out his hair as a means of styling it, he went to work brushing his teeth, curious how the day had just begun and it was already shit. That didn't bode well for his week.

Alex ran a hand over his face as he went through the rest of his morning routine—black coffee, notepad and pencil, because he liked the quiet he felt whenever he jotted down notes. That same quiet never came when he entered things into his phone or iPad. So notepad and pencil for him.

Once out in his three-car garage, he eyed his diesel truck and Harley, shaking his head a little that his life required him to walk past both man vehicles. Instead, he hopped into a small golf cart, glad to be out of his house. Well, technically it was Trip's house, but Alex liked to ignore that fact, especially when he was pissed at Trip. And he was heading that way now.

The sky was dark in places, light in others, the day unsure of its official starting time, as if Mother Nature had hit snooze. He knew the feeling.

Mama V greeted him as he parked the cart by her house, grabbed a protein shake, then continued on to the foaling barn, where sure enough his brother's truck had been parked at an angle—proving that he ran the farm and could park wherever the hell he liked. It irritated Alex to no end, but instead of lashing out, he reminded himself that the breeding side of Hamilton Stables could more than triple the earnings of training. Alex might be the youngest Hamilton brother, but if his plan worked, he would bring in the most profit for the family business this year. And then what would they have to say? Nothing, that's what. But Alex told himself that didn't matter. He wasn't doing this to prove himself to his family. And any day now, he'd believe it.

“'Bout damn time.” Trip walked out of the foaling barn, his Stetson firmly planted on his head, the same cowboy boots he always wore around the farm on his feet. A red and black plaid shirt hung loose over his Levi's, and though to some he might appear to be an ignorant hick, those in the business knew the truth—no one in horseracing was half the trainer Trip was.

Among owners, Alex felt the weight of his brother's name following him around like a dark shadow that refused to let up. He introduced himself and immediately owners asked, “Trip's brother, right?” For Christ's sake, there were three Hamilton brothers, not one.

Pushing aside his bitter thoughts, he opened his mouth to say that he wasn't late, Trip was early, but then his eyes caught the two women standing a few yards away from his brother, and suddenly Alex's throat refused to work properly.

“How are you doing, Alex?” Emery, Trip's fiancée, asked as she started over. Emery was a rider for Hamilton Stables, and her father was the legendary Beckett Carlisle. Which all meant their relationship owned the title of most unexpected match, but there they were, head over heels in love, wedding date three months away. But while all that was true, Emery wasn't the woman who'd caught Alex's attention.

His gaze landed and refused to lift from the bright redhead beside Emery, skin as fair as milk except for the occasional freckle. Her eyes were so intensely blue Alex found it difficult to look at her without his mouth falling slack. She wore a simple blue and white cotton dress that hit mid thigh, her look so out of place on the farm many women might feel self conscious, but Alex would bet this woman had never felt self conscious a day in her life. Why would she? To date, he'd never met a woman who held a candle to her.

“Alex,” she said, her voice soft, a hint of modesty there that he'd never understood, but cut through him all the same.

“Kate.”

 

Kate Littleton stared at the man she'd had sex with not eighteen months before, wondering if he still looked the same underneath his perfectly fitted T-shirt and jeans.

She tried to remember why she'd ended their dating streak, and then the memory came to her like a spoonful of vinegar. Alex had freaked out when Trip and Emery became serious, which meant that he'd had no real feelings for her anyway. But the part that had always gnawed at her was that she hadn't wanted anything from him beyond a chance to spend time with him. Despite the arrogant vibe he put out there, Alex was a nice guy. She enjoyed being around him, his laugh, the way the conversation never became stilted. He had a carefree spirit and a sharp mind. He just didn't see himself clearly. Shadowed by his brothers, he'd spent his whole life climbing a hill that only rose taller with each step.

Kate knew she'd rather turn him loose than trust her heart to keep its word to her and stay good. So one day they sat on his couch watching the Falcons play, and the next, he was a stranger. Eighteen months went by without a word, which was fine. Kate had things to do. Students to teach. Plays to plan out. Little league games to attend. She didn't need Alex Hamilton, but she did want someone. If only she could find the right man to fill the job.

“We were just heading out,” Kate said, suddenly uneasy standing before a man who so clearly
didn'
t want the job. “Em?”

Emery's gaze shifted from Kate to Alex and then back, her eyebrows lifting. From the age of twelve, Kate had told Emery every detail of her life, except where it concerned Alex Hamilton. She could almost hear Emery's brain churning, unspoken question after unspoken question in her mind.

“Caterer tomorrow morning at nine,” Emery said to Trip, before rising onto her toes to give him a soft peck on the lips. Only he was having no part of soft and held her to him, giving her the sort of kiss that Kate knew would embarrass Emery thoroughly. But instead of her friend reprimanding him as she pulled away, she smiled and said, “I love you.”

He kissed her again. “And I you.”

For a second, Kate couldn't decide if she wanted to grin at her best friend's antics or roll her eyes. It'd make it a lot easier if she had her own guy to kiss and smile at it, but instead all she had was memories.

The sounds of others arriving at the farm echoed all around them, reminding Kate just how out of place she was. Emery belonged here, not her. She focused on the small anthill in a patch of grass by the barn, refusing to look up, though she ached to see if Alex was watching her. If he remembered their time together fondly or if she'd been another notch on his belt, long since forgotten.

“Alex?” Emery called.

When he didn't answer, Kate looked up, only to find him focused inside the barn, already tuning everything else out.

“Earth to Alex?” Emery repeated.

He turned then, but Kate could tell his thoughts had long since left the threesome and were focused on the mare in the barn scheduled to foal that day. “Yeah?”

“We wanted to have the wedding party over to Trip's tomorrow for a barbeque. Will you come?”

His eyes drifted almost imperceptibly to Kate, but the impact on her was immediate. How that man could lock her in place with one gaze blew her mind. Trip might be the leader of the Hamilton family, but he didn't have that thoughtful glint in his eyes like Alex. It was as if his mind worked out complex puzzles the rest of them couldn't even see. It fascinated Kate, and also scared her. A mind like that would never feel content in one place. It was likely the reason he'd gone from college to college, job to job, unable to sit still, unable to settle down. Like a wild stallion, his heart would never beat easily unless it was running.

“The wedding party?”

Trip took a step toward his brother then, but Kate didn't want them to be hard on Alex on her behalf. She was fine. They should be fine, too. This didn't have to get uncomfortable. So she and Alex hung out a few times. They'd been friends more than anything else.

“Yes, come.” She bit her lip, forcing herself to focus on him.

Alex grinned back at her. “Is that an order, Ms. Littleton?”

She smiled back, enjoying the easiness that slipped into his eyes. “Bet your ass it is. Teacher's orders. Besides, Trip promised to have one of Patty's Bundt cakes there. I know you can't resist cake.”

Their gazes locked.

“No, I can't.”

Instantly, Kate thought of the last slice of cake they had shared. He'd asked for a bite, a wicked spark in his eyes, and she'd lifted her fork to his lips. That perfect mouth of his wrapped around her fork, his eyes on hers, and suddenly the plate clanged to the floor, and he had her in his lap, their hands everywhere, lips connecting, tongues intertwining. It had taken a surprisingly small amount of time to undress each other, and even less time to shove the nagging voice in her head to the corner, ordering her to shut her eyes if she didn't want to watch. Because Kate needed that night. She needed it like she needed to breathe. And though a part of her wanted more, she knew that night would be the last night for them.

“So it's settled. Seven good for everyone? And maybe we should have two cakes,” Emery said, her expression thoughtful. “That way we'll have plenty.”

Alex turned back for the barn. “Nah, I'll just share some of Kate's.” He winked at her, then started for the barn again, when Kate called out.

“Actually, I share my cake with someone else now.” Ugh. Why did she say that?

Alex stopped and peered over his shoulder at her. “Is that right?”

No, not even close.
But she refused to let him think he could just take a bite from her cake anytime he liked. She crossed her arms and held her head high. “Yes.”

He pinned her with that look of his again. The one that made her feel as though she was the only person standing around, the only person in the world. The only person who mattered. And for a moment, she thought he might be jealous, when instead he said, “Happy to hear it. See you around, Ms. Littleton.”