Racing Savannah (15 page)

“How do you know that’s where I’m taking you?”

“Because if you aren’t, I’ll be really pissed.” My voice comes out squeaky and excited. It’s dark in the tunnel, but there’s enough light that I can see Jack’s lips part slightly. He sets a hand on my waist and yanks me to his chest.

“I wouldn’t want to make you angry,” he says quietly, giving me another kiss. And then another.

“Jack.”

He slowly kisses my neck, teasing a gasp from my lips. “Hmm?”

“Get me out of this tunnel.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I can hear the grin in his voice.

We walk briskly and end up in a cellar with a door that leads to another cellar, which is full of rotting wooden crates. Jack takes my elbow and leads me to a narrow staircase. The paint is peeling off the walls and the stairs need polishing.

When we reach the third floor, a floor I’ve never been to, Jack pushes a door open and I find myself in his bedroom. Jack’s three hounds hop to their feet when they see him, their claws scraping the hardwood floor, but when he snaps and points at their doggie beds along the far wall, they lie back down.

The bay window is wide open, letting fresh September air and moonlight into the spacious room. Jesus Lord, it’s so big, you could probably fit, like, a bowling alley in here. His queen-sized bed is made—the plaid duvet is perfectly pressed. Little horse figurines sit on his shelves and his backpack is slung over the desk chair. A pair of dirty socks is strewn across the hardwood floor, but otherwise the room is spotless. Unlike any other boy’s room
ever
. The maids do their jobs.

“Does Yvonne know you have dirty laundry on the floor?” I tease, gesturing at his socks.

“Shhh,” he says, placing a finger over my lips. “She’ll hear you and want to clean up. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be disturbed right now.”

A world map covered in red thumbtacks hangs on the wall. Most of the tacks are concentrated in Italy, Switzerland, and Germany. “What’s this?”

His eyes light up when he looks at the map. “Just places I want to visit one day, you know, when I have time.”

I’ve never thought much about traveling—he and I have such different dreams, but seeing the little red thumbtacks makes me want to travel someplace romantic with him.

A pair of glasses, a bottle of Tylenol, and a picture of him and his dad with a horse sit on his nightstand. I suddenly feel really close to him, seeing his personal things.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, as he takes off his watch and sets it on his dresser.

From his shelf I pick up a little black horse figurine. I run my forefinger over its mane, thinking of Moonshadow. “Jack, you’re not gonna sell Star, right?”

He drops his chin onto my shoulder and wraps his arms around my stomach. “Not right now, no.”

“But you do sell horses.”

“All the time. It’s part of the business.”

“Do you check out who you sell them to?”

“Always.” Jack turns me around and stares into my eyes intently. “We do background checks.”

“After my mom died, I started taking care of this mare. Her name was Moonshadow.” I sniffle, remembering how she used to prance when I entered her stall. “We took care of each other.”

He listens as I tell him what awful Mr. Cates did, how he sold Moonshadow to a man who forced her to race, even though her racing days were long gone. At her second race, she stumbled on her way out the gate and broke two legs. They shot her behind the track and left her body, not caring a lick what happened to it. Dad helped me bury her in the woods behind our trailer park.

That’s why I hated rich people so bad. All they cared about was making more money. At least that’s what I thought. Until I met Jack, who cares about family and honor and history.

“I’m sorry about Moonshadow,” Jack says, hugging me. “Sounds like you were a good friend to her. I’m glad Star has you now.”

“Yeah?”

“I was torturing the poor fellow, making him spend time with boys when he hates them. I should’ve known he’s into girls. Just like his owner.”

I give Jack a playful punch on the shoulder, and he hugs me again.

“I can’t thank you enough for helping me with Star. On the way home from Kentucky this afternoon, my father told me how proud he is that I stuck to my guns. Maybe I’ll pass this test after all, thanks to you.”

“We’re a pretty good team, huh?” I reply.

“Yeah we are,” he says in a thick voice, and kisses me deeply, pushing me against the wall. We slowly make out and it hits me how right this feels, how there’s no place I’d rather be.

And suddenly things speed up in a very good way. He cups my face with both hands, watching me unbutton his shirt. He twirls me around and unzips my dress, letting it drop to the floor, leaving me in just a bra and panties. Thank God I wore my matching set today. He brushes my curls out of the way so he can kiss my neck from behind, and I wrap an arm around the back of his head, weaving my fingers in his long hair. His chest presses against my back, his heart pounding hard and wild. His hands are everywhere, softly stroking my stomach, my hips, my breasts.

He yanks his boots off, hopping on one foot to do so, then he’s kissing me again. I pull him to the bed. He falls on top of me. Our lips find each other hungrily. He holds both of my hands above my head as we kiss, trapping me.

“How am I supposed to unbutton your pants if you won’t let my hands go?” I ask with a tiny voice, shaking all over.

“Not until I’m finished with you.” He kisses a trail from my neck down to my stomach. “So that’s where it is,” he says, kissing the horseshoe tattoo on my hip before smiling up at me.

“Are you wearing a belt buckle that says
cocky
?” I peer down at his waistband.

“Oh, um…”

I roll my eyes, smiling like crazy. “Would you get back to kissing me already?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, diving back in. I kiss the sensitive hollow of his neck. His pulse races beneath my lips. I bite his ear and his neck, as we squirm under the covers, our legs twisting together.

“Not too hard.” He pauses to smile at me. “My parents will kill me if I show up at breakfast with a hickey.”

“Oh.” My face flames devil red.

“I’ll give you one instead,” he says, nipping at my neck. I laugh and try to pull away, but he snuggles me closer beneath the blankets.

We make out for ages, as he presses against me and rocks his hips, slowly at first, then faster and faster, and then he finally pushes past the elastic of my panties, to touch me for real. I love it, and can’t stop murmuring his name over and over. I reach between us and unbutton his pants and tug his boxers down, exploring where he’s hard and silky.

“I think you like me,” he says, grinning.

“You’re okay,” I tease.

“Just okay?” he murmurs, tickling me, making me squirm and laugh. “Just
okay
?”

“Fine.” I touch his cheek and return his gaze, feeling so many feelings. “I like you so much,” I say quietly, and he reaches over to his nightstand, opens the top drawer, and pulls out a condom.

I’m out of breath, panting—about to tell him I don’t want to do this yet, as he begins to slip my underwear down, when I hear a noise.

This house is so old you can hear every creak and groan, especially from the hardwood floors. The boards squeak—someone is coming up the stairs.

“Hide!” Jack whispers, throwing the bedcovers back, jumping off me, and fastening his pants. He rushes to his dresser and fishes out a T-shirt.

I grab my dress and shoes and catapult myself into the closet. It’s bigger than my goddamned bedroom. I hide behind one of Jack’s suits and try to listen to what’s happening out in the room. Nothing yet. I take the arm of Jack’s suit jacket and bring it to my nose, loving its guy smell. God, I’ve become a complete psycho.

I clench up when the knock sounds on the door.

“Come in,” Jack says.

“Just came to say good night,” his mother says. “You left the wedding early.”

“Are you alone?” Mr. Goodwin asks.

A heartbeat. “Yeah, just tired. Gotta get up early.”

After a long, heart attack-inducing silence, Mr. Goodwin says, “All right. Sleep well.”

“I love you,” Mrs. Goodwin adds.

“Love you too,” Jack says, and a second later I hear the door click shut. I hide beside Jack’s cowboy boot collection for several minutes, until the closet door finally swings open.

“Sorry about that,” he whispers, reaching a hand out. I grab it and pull him to the floor. He laughs as he crawls up between my legs. From his pocket he whips out a red lollipop—one of the fancy ones you can only get at the Cracker Barrel. I hold it against my chest. I’ll save it for a special occasion.

“You’d better get down to Hillcrest,” he says quietly, helping me to my feet.

“Jack?”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t return my stare. He’s too busy running a thumb along the underside of my bra.

“All I want is to get back in bed with you.”

He pushes me against the closet wall and our mouths meet again for another passionate kiss. “I’ve never—” he starts. “You and me—I’ve never felt like—” He doesn’t finish his thought. He slams his lips against mine. When he pulls away, I feel his absence, like when I eat toast without butter.

“Jack? You’re not dating anybody, right? Not Abby or Kelsey or some famous person’s daughter, right?”

He chuckles. “Naw. I had a girlfriend…Jenna Lukens…we broke up.”

“Why?” I whisper.

“My mom introduced us. And I liked her a lot at first…But Jenna went to this private school up on Monteagle Mountain and we didn’t do the long-distance thing so well, and she ended up cheating on me.” His face turns a rosy pink. “And she was all sorts of drama. Always wanted me to buy her gifts and stuff.”

“So you want somebody low-key?”

“I do.” Jack nudges my nose with his. “Listen, if my dad catches you here, he’ll roast me like a shish kabob.”

“Mmm, I love shish kabob.”

“I’ll grill for you sometime.”

“As if you know how to use a grill. You’re a kept guy.”

He grins mischievously. “I’ll prove you wrong.”

He picks my dress up off the floor, dusts it off, and holds it out so I can put it back on. I pull my hair to the side, and he kisses my back as he zips my dress.

He turns me around and we kiss again until he murmurs breathlessly, “God, you’re beautiful.”

I didn’t know how bad I needed to hear that until he said it. He already had me in his bed wearing only my underwear. He didn’t have to say I’m beautiful.

But he did.

“I knew I was in trouble when I woke up and Luke Skywalker was staring back at me.”

I’m sitting with Vanessa at Foothills Diner, sharing a slice of rhubarb pie with her. She said she desperately needed to talk to me, so here I am.

I pound a fist on the table. “I told Rory to get rid of those sheets! I knew something like this might happen…So you saw the sheets? Does that mean…?”

“It means that I accidentally fell asleep in his bed last night and his parents found us this morning and they called my papa and my brother! It was mortifying!”

I sit back and cover my mouth. “And, uh, what happened…?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t, um, clothed.” Her hand shakes as she sips her coffee. “Remind me never to drink champagne again, okay?”

“Oh man, I’m sorry. Did you get in trouble with your grandfather and brother?”

“Ty wanted to fly home from Arizona to ‘kill Rory’ but then Papa reminded him he had a game today and it wouldn’t be a good thing if the backup quarterback disappeared just to go kill somebody.”

“Were Mr. and Mrs. Whitfield pissed?”

Vanessa taps her fork on her plate. “His dad made jokes, but like, his mom? She seemed really disappointed in me. I overheard her telling Rory that girls like me aren’t ‘girlfriend material.’”

“What the hell does that mean? Girlfriend material?”

“I’ve only had one serious boyfriend my entire life. But Mrs. Whitfield seemed to be under the impression I sleep around all the time. I’ve only slept with one guy!”

I clear my throat. “Well, now you’ve slept with two, right?”

Her face goes red. She shovels another bite of pie in her mouth and yells for the waitress. “We’re gonna need more pie over here. ASAP! So…what happened to you last night?” she asks. “You ran off pretty quick.”

“Well, umm…”

“Spill.” Vanessa lifts her coffee mug to her mouth, giving me a look that says,
I
just
told
you
I
woke
up
in
a
boy’s bed and
Star Wars
sheets
were
involved.

“Jack and I fooled around,” I say softly, making Vanessa squeal. Other Foothills patrons glare at us, including a couple of trucker guys. But after they get a good look at Vanessa and her Amazon bod, they smile and sit up straighter.

“And?” she says.

“It was great,” I whisper back. “But Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin stopped by and I had to hide in the closet.”

“The closet.”

“Yeah, and Jack has tons of cowboy boots. And then we made out some more in the closet.”

Her mouth drops open and then she smiles. “So, are you guys, like, gonna hook up again…or get together…?”

“No idea,” I say. “I don’t even know what Jack wants yet. His dad would be pissed. My dad would be horrified.”

She pops another bite of pie into her mouth. “Do you want something with him?”

I find myself slowly nodding. I want, I want, I want.

“Be careful…Jack rarely has serious girlfriends,” Vanessa says slowly, cradling her cup. “Although you did make out with him two weekends in a row. That’s a record for Jack.”

I change the subject. “What about you and Rory?”

“I’m so embarrassed,” Vanessa says quietly. “I’m afraid Mrs. Whitfield’s never gonna let me come back over to her house. You know what she said to me? ‘I wish Rory’s younger brothers hadn’t seen you here. What kind of example does that set?’”

“Did Rory get the same lecture?” I ask.

“No, his Dad just sent him outside to clean something called a manure collector before church.”

I cringe and take a drink of coffee. “I’m sure Mrs. Whitfield was just shocked,” I say. “I mean, all moms are protective, I imagine.”

Not that Vanessa or I would know anything about that. Several years ago her parents were in a car crash: her father died on the scene and her mom died a while later from her injuries.

“It’s just ’cause I look like this,” she mumbles. “It’s like, nobody ever bothers to get to know me. It’s all about my looks. They think I must be evil because I’m pretty. Or they think I have the perfect life—when really I just miss my parents…”

I’m about to tell her that no one thinks that her life is perfect, but hell, I’ve thought it myself. We don’t know what other people are thinking. We never will unless we ask.

“I’m your friend,” I tell her. “And if Mrs. Whitfield doesn’t see how great you are, then screw her.”

Vanessa looks up and gives me a small smile. “I just hope Rory doesn’t want to end stuff…you know? I haven’t heard from him since this morning…I thought he would’ve found a way to call.”

“Don’t worry. He really likes you…”

She grins, looking into her coffee cup. “So how’d you end up in bed with Jack Goodwin last night?”

“How’d you end up in bed with Rory and Darth Vader?” I fire back.

“And Chewbacca.”

I groan, laughing.

We finish off two more pieces of rhubarb pie and dish up all our gossip, and the pie tastes a little sweeter than usual.

• • •

Vanessa has this prehistoric plaid couch the color of Halloween.

Orange, red, gold, and more orange.

She invited me over to her house after we gorged ourselves on pie, and now here I am, gazing around at a tiny house with brown shag carpet and frayed curtains. Family pictures cover the walls and end tables.

“This is cozy.”

Vanessa sprawls out on the Halloween couch. “My brother, Ty, keeps trying to buy Papa this house that looks like a castle, but we like it here. But Papa did agree to that TV.” She points at a flat screen. “Ty always thinks we should have the best, no matter if it’s practical or not.”

“Do you miss Ty?”

Vanessa nods slowly. “He wanted me to move out to Arizona with him, but I didn’t want to change schools senior year. And I can’t leave Papa. I’d miss him too much…he’s like, my best friend.” She glances away, embarrassed. I’ve never heard somebody call a grandparent a best friend. Awesome.

“Couldn’t your grandfather go with you?”

“He loves it here. He likes his job at the pajama factory. And besides, I’m going to college at Middle Tennessee state.”

The house smells a little musty because it’s old, but it’s full of warmth, and it amazes me that a guy who came from this life went on to play for the Arizona Cardinals. He took his talents and ran. And now Vanessa is seeing the benefits and doesn’t have to worry about money anymore. I don’t want to worry about money anymore. But the NFL is on an entirely different echelon than horse jockeying.

College could give me new opportunities like Ty had. Maybe I should consider going to talk to the guidance counselor.

Vanessa and I sit down to watch a movie and she tells me how glad she is I moved here and that it’s easy to talk for real with me. She admits that she and Kelsey have more of a surface-level friendship because Kelsey never lets people get close, which sort of shocks me. That girl is such a mystery.

Vanessa and I are still talking when the doorbell rings. She stands to answer the door, revealing Rory. They look at each other for a long moment before he launches himself into her arms, kissing her cheeks and lips and holding her tight. She wraps her arms around his neck and presses her forehead to his.

Jesus, it’s like they’re already in love.

“Are you in big trouble with your mom?” Vanessa asks. “Does she hate me?”

“If she does, it doesn’t matter,” Rory says. “I want you. Like, I want to date only you and I just…” He pauses to take a deep breath, looking into her eyes. “I like you so much.”

“I’m really sorry I fell asleep last night.”

“I’m sorry I let us drink so much champagne,” Rory says with a nervous laugh.

“Never again.”

“Agreed.”

I’m getting a warm feeling watching them. He doesn’t care whether his parents like Vanessa or not. They want each other, so they’re going to be together. I love that.

What would happen if I told Dad and Cindy that I want to be with Jack? Would Jack make sure his father doesn’t fire my family? Would Jack tell his father about us?

I love Jack’s confidence, his smirk, his sense of humor, the way he cares for his little sister, the way he loves his animals, he edits his mom’s cookbook, he helped me pour water at dinner that night. I just like him.

I want Jack, and I shouldn’t let anybody—not even myself—get in the way of it.

• • •

When I get home, I find Dad and Cindy sitting on the couch, looking at a baby name book she borrowed from Mrs. Goodwin.

“Shortcake, what do you think of Arya?” Cindy asks.

“I like it, but it sounds too medieval,” I say, squeezing onto the couch on the other side of Dad. I lean against his arm, rest my chin on his shoulder, and look down at the book with him.

“What about something modern?” I ask. “How about Marriott?”

Cindy laughs. “We are not naming the baby after a hotel chain.”

We flip through the book for a while longer, checking out names like Crimson (love it!), Katherine (Cindy’s choice), and Nina (Dad thinks it’s sweet).

I sigh, snuggling closer to Dad, resting my head on his shoulder. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course,” Cindy says, snapping the book shut.

“You have to promise you won’t get mad or jump to conclusions or anything.”

“We promise,” Dad says, taking my hand. “But you’d better not be pregnant.”

“Jesus Lord, Dad! You need to get a filter.”

“That’s true.” Cindy gently taps his arm. “So what’s going on?”

I look around to make sure nobody else is nearby listening in. “Um…here’s the thing. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Jack…and I want to try dating him—”

“No,” Dad says, shaking his head fast.

“But I really like him.”

“I told you not to start anything with him.”

How do you tell your dad it’s too late? It’s not like I’d tell him Jack and I have already been to third base together.

“How could you disobey me?” His voice is angry and full of hurt. “You know the Goodwins don’t want us interfering with their lives. They don’t even want us in their house!”

Cindy pats his knee. “Shhh.” She gives me a disappointed-mom face, even though she’s not my stepmother yet. “After what happened with Moonshadow, I don’t want to see you hurt again. Being with Jack might seem good today, but that could change.”

Memories of kissing Jack one night and then having him back off the next day fill my mind. He played Abby Winchester. He probably wrote Kelsey Painter off too. But I could be different, right?

“But it’s my decision,” I say. Breakups are always a possibility, but without him, life will feel like riding a super slow mule. “I want this.”

Dad and Cindy exchange a long look. Finally he lets out a long sigh. “We can’t afford for you to a make a decision that’ll mess up our jobs right now, understand?” He sets his jaw. “Ever since we moved here, every decision you’ve made has been selfish or dangerous—with your jockeying and exercise riding and looking at colleges on the computer or dating my boss’s son. You know I can’t afford to send you to college—” Dad’s voice breaks. “Rory Whitfield is a nice guy. Why don’t you date him?”

“I’m never gonna like Rory like that—”

“Our lives,” Dad starts, blowing into his cupped hands. “We’re never gonna have lives like the Goodwins. I don’t know what ideas this place is putting into your head but it needs to stop before you get hurt and Cindy and your little sister get hurt too, got it?” His tone is fiercely mean and serious.

My hands and lips are trembling. I feel queasy. A stabbing pain rushes up my arm and into my chest. I start shaking all over.

Dad has never spoken to me like this. Ever.

Growing up, Dad told me stories about how his father, my papa, never could keep a steady job as a groom and they bought all their groceries with food stamps. Didn’t Dad start working at Cedar Hill because he wanted a better life? What’s so wrong with me going after something better?

“Can I still be a jockey?” I ask through clenched teeth, curling my hands into fists.

“I said you could until something else bad happens, didn’t I?” Dad runs a hand through his hair, grasping it tightly.

Cindy says, “We just worry about you, Shortcake—”

“Stop calling me Shortcake!” I burst. “Only Mom and Dad are allowed to call me that!”

Cindy looks down at her stomach and starts crying. Dad’s face immediately softens and he tells her he loves her and the baby.

Yvonne appears in the doorway with wide eyes, holding her needlework, looking at the three of us. She gives me a wink and a nod before disappearing back toward her room.

I stand up on shaky knees. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Stay away from Jack Goodwin,” Dad calls out.

I jet out the door, ignoring Dad, pulling a sucker from my pocket and jabbing it into my mouth.

• • •

I make it all the way to Greenbriar pasture before I start sobbing.

It’s late on Sunday afternoon, and everyone’s enjoying post-church supper with their families so the racetracks are deserted. Only a few farmhands are around, monitoring the grazing horses. I open the gate, and Star immediately jogs over to me, whinnying softly. He doesn’t stop to show me respect; he buries his nose in my neck and sighs.

“I love you too,” I whisper into his mane.

How could Dad yell at me like that? Doesn’t he care what I feel for Jack? It’s not like I ever yelled at him when he got Cindy pregnant when there’s no way in hell he could afford another kid. And I haven’t been selfish at all. Of course, Dad doesn’t know I asked Mr. Goodwin to supplement Cindy’s paychecks with my own…

Jack’s three dogs bound up, panting and slobbering all over the place, chasing each other around the cedar trees. I turn to find Jack looking over his shoulder toward the manor house.

“I was hoping I’d find you here,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting into a subtle grin. “This is becoming our spot.” He gestures at the pasture.

I nod, giving him a little smile.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers.

I shake my head, not ready to talk yet.