Racing Hearts (13 page)

“O
kay, you have me here,” Emery said as she walked into the stable. “What are you planning to do with me?”

Trip's lips twitched, a smile fighting to break free. “There's a lot of things I'd like to do with you.
To you
, if we're being specific. But this isn't really about me.”

She smiled, instead of giving it to Trip like she wanted—like she should. Of course, even that would have been for show. Because while she hated men who thought they could sexy talk their way into your pants, she couldn't deny that she liked it when it came from Trip and those delicious lips of his. Her anger became flattery. And her grimace all too often became a grin. Damn him for making her fall for him all over again.

They'd kept their interactions to cute banter and mild flirtation, nothing more, but she could feel it building inside her, a voice telling her to take it further. There was no denying she wanted him, but this was six shades complicated with a deformed cherry on top.

She thought of his days at their farm all those years ago, watching her daddy with such awe and intensity. While she watched him with the same look of awe. Back then, the three years between them meant he looked more man than boy. His shoulders strong. His voice deep. His hands callused. Only when he laughed did she remember that while he wasn't a teenager, like her, he was still young. Both in mind and body.

Now, everything was different. They were both adults. It should be easy, but their situation couldn't be further from easy.

Her gaze met Trip's. The same amazing eyes, but where they once held a world of hope, now they held wisdom. That boy she once knew wasn't the same man standing in front of her. Success had changed him. She just didn't know yet if it was for the good or the bad.

Mama V came rushing into the stable, two cups of coffee in hand. “Hey, darlin',” she said, passing a cup to Emery and once again kissing her cheek. “Thought you could use some liquid strength today.”

Emery glanced, confused, at Mama V. “What do you mean?”

“The riding thing. Trip said you were riding today.” Emery started to argue as Mama V gripped her hand. “I want you to know how proud I am of you. Getting back on a mount. That isn't easy stuff. No matter how you do today, be proud.”

Emery couldn't respond. All she could do was stare daggers at Trip, who seemed suddenly very interested in the notebook in his hand. She waited for Mama V to leave, and then stormed over and pushed him in the chest with her finger.

“So not only have you talked about me to everyone here, but you decided today, without even telling me, that I'm riding?”

Trip set down the notebook and turned slowly. “Look, I get how you work. I get that you walk the line between sweet lady and raging warrior every day, and that I've got you deep into rage territory right now.” Emery's face went scarlet, her eyes on fire, but he held up a hand to cut her off. “But we both know you aren't going to ride until I force you to. And I'm sorry, but I'm not your daddy. You are a contract employee here, which means you work for me.”

Emery's entire body shook with anger. She put her hands on her hips and took a step back, huffing, unsure of what to say next. She wanted to tell him he could shove the job up his perfect ass. She quit. But then she saw Craving Wind stick his head out of his stall, and all the hot air sucked right out of her.

Taking slow steps, she made her way to the horse and gently stroked his mane and neck, letting his strength be her strength. She closed her eyes and drew a breath, the scents of hay and horse and stable all around her. She could almost picture them inside the starting gate, Craving Wind ready to earn his name.

Her heart sped up as she opened her eyes and stared into the colt's. “What do you want me to do?” Emery said, her voice low. “Tell me what to do, boy.”

Trip walked up and covered her hand with his, urging her to look up. “I don't want to force you to do anything. But it's time, Em. It's just you and me, and I need you to trust me. Trust that I know you, and I know you're ready. But see, the thing is, maybe you don't know yet, so I had an idea. I think part of the fear is in expectation. You know your old times, you know what you want to do now. Let's take that away for a moment. Maybe to begin, you could help with the morning workouts, just like you told Beckett. You don't even need to ride Craving Wind. We'll put you on Blank Space or another filly. Start there. Just exercise 'em. No times. No worries. Just ride.”

Emery let the idea settle over her. No times or pressure. No making sure she connected with Craving Wind, like she wanted to. She knew other jockeys considered her way of racing a joke. Talking to her horses, riding them well in advance, getting to know them as friends. This wasn't how it was done. But their opinions didn't matter, and it was never about them anyway. Her daddy had trained some of the best racehorses in the last thirty years, and then he retired from training and became a successful breeder—and owner—of many of the top champions over the last ten years. He'd hired Mr. Sampson to train, and so it became very easy for Emery to grow attached to the horses she rode. They were right there.

She knew this was part of the reason she'd been so hesitant to ride for Trip—there wouldn't be that familiarity or comfort. She could ride the horse, but it wasn't the same as seeing that horse all the time. Still, she did know Craving Wind, felt the same connection she'd felt with Firecrest. This was her horse, her champion.

She peered back up at Trip. “Just ride?”

“Just a little exercise. Nothing more. Clark has Blank Space at the track. The cart's just outside.”

For the first time in forever, a thrilling feeling coursed through Emery, igniting her insides, waking her up. “All right. Let's ride.”

They slipped into the golf cart and started on, the morning air chilly as it swept past them. Her left leg jumped continuously, unwilling to relax. And just when she decided to cross her right leg over it in hopes of settling it down, Trip reached out and lightly squeezed her thigh, and suddenly her spazzy left leg went still. She glanced down at his hand, then at him.

“It's okay. You know that, right? I'm not going to let anything happen to you here.”

Emery drew a short breath, unable to handle the kindness in his voice. The intimacy. There was something happening between them, but she knew it had to stop now. She had to focus, and there was no focusing to be had around Trip if she allowed herself to do the things she wanted to do. Feel the things she wanted to feel.

“Trip, we should talk,” she said, but then they were at the track, the sun still hidden away, trees cradling them in, warming the moment. She peered over, and he pressed his finger gently to her lips.

“I know. I know everything you're going to say. But you're overthinking it. Someone's gotta be there for you, lady girl. Might as well be me.”

Their gazes held, and she thought how much better she liked his face worn, like it was now, age making him so much more than simply attractive or hot. He was unbelievably sexy. From those chocolate eyes to his wavy hair to the way he knew she needed him. Just like the first time she'd lost, when she was sure she'd win. He taught her so much back then, and she felt sure if she let him, he could teach her even more now.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Fine, but you're not allowed to stare at my ass when Clark gives me a leg up on the mount.”

He grinned. “I make no promises.”

Trip parked them close to the track, and together they walked down to meet Clark and the exercise boy from a few weeks ago. They both said hello to Emery as she fastened on her helmet, but she barely listened. Her heartbeat was the only thing she could hear, pounding away in her ears as she neared the roan filly.

She lifted her hand and ran it down the horse's mane, patting her easily on the neck. “So you're Blank Space? You're a beautiful thing,” she said. “Now, I'm going to take you around a few times. Think you can be good for me?” She patted the horse again and peered over to see all three of them watching her.

“Stop staring already and help me up,” she ordered, causing Trip to laugh.

Clark started over, but Trip held him back. “Let me.”

Emery gently pulled down her stirrup, so as not to agitate the filly, then grabbed the left rein and pulled it around the back of the saddle, made a half cross, and took a lock of mane. With her right hand on the pommel, she peered back at Trip, his chest too close, his soapy scent overwhelming.

“You've got this,” he said, giving her a leg up.

She held her breath as she settled into the saddle and then released it slowly, relief washing over her. It was like breathing after being underwater for too long. Like drinking after a forgetful afternoon in the sun.
Like coming home
. Tears welled in her eyes, every emotion bubbling to the surface.

“You all right?” Trip called.

She drew another breath, staring out at the track, then peered down. “It's . . .” She swallowed before her emotions overcame her. “I'm perfect.”

He stared back at her and patted Blank Space. “Yeah, you are. All right, then. Give her a go.”

Emery trotted to the center of the dirt. “Hear that, girl,” she said. “He likes me.” She smiled once more and then, pushing away her fear, she started down the track, building from trot to canter to gallop, getting out of the way of the horse, letting her be the magnificent animal she was born to be. Adrenaline burst through her, excitement and happiness, a thousand moments rushing back with each whip of wind past her. Memories poured in of her first time on a track, in a race, her first win—all the reasons why she loved this sport. Why she risked her life again and again. Why she refused to eat chocolate or anything with the word
cream
. The speed. The unbelievable magic of the Thoroughbred horse. She loved racing, and like the horse below her, she was born for this.

Her time had come.

T
rip pushed through the door to town hall, eager to get his meeting with Mayor Phillips started so it could hurry up and end. The town hall building was all classic brick on the outside and hardwood floors and tan walls on the inside. He wasn't sure if they'd ever redecorated since it was built thirty years ago, but Trip liked it all the same.

He inhaled once, and then pressed on, trying to prepare himself for whatever came at him. Mayor Phillips liked to talk like the rest of the world liked to breathe, and Trip wasn't in the mood to answer the questions he was sure were coming. He'd managed to avoid most of the town the last few weeks, with various trips to the races and sales. Add in his work at the stables, and he'd rarely been in town at all. But he knew the time would come when he would have to explain why Emery Carlisle hung around so much—he just didn't know how he would answer.

On the outside, it was simple—Emery worked for him. She came by the barn to ride. Forget that none of his other jockeys came to his farm. Forget that he hadn't so much as spoken to half of his jockeys in the last month. Still, she'd contracted to ride for him, so she could be there. It made sense.

What didn't make sense was his complete inability to get her out of his mind. Or that he let her ride any horse she liked now and had for weeks, except the one she was supposed to ride. He'd lied to his father in the last three meetings, all to protect Emery, who either didn't understand the shitty spot she put him in or didn't care. On top of all that, Trip was dying to see her on Craving Wind, whose times were already so much faster than every other colt he had. Trip knew a champion when he saw one, and from Craving Wind's near perfect conformation to his stamina and speed, this horse was destined to be the next Derby winner; hell, maybe even the Triple Crown. He was built so similarly to Secretariat that it could happen. Trip could see it happening.

With the right jockey.

And there wasn't a trainer alive who would put Emery on Craving Wind in an important race. Trip thought the horse was ready for a maiden race to see how he performed with other horses fighting it out alongside him. But he knew Emery wanted to be the one to ride him, and every time he tried to get her on the mount, she shut down. Well, he was done waiting.

“Trip, come on in,” Mayor Phillips said, waving from just inside his office. He ran a sunspot-ridden hand over his face and peered around. “You'll have to excuse the little mess.”

He stepped into the mayor's office and thought the word
mess
was as much an understatement as saying a tornado was a little wind. In fact, it looked like a tornado had overtaken the large space. Papers were scattered everywhere. Two small trash cans sat sideways, their contents strewn across the floor. “What happened in here?”

Mayor Phillips lifted his hat and ran his hand over his nearly bald head, then returned the hat to its resting place. “A little misunderstanding.” He was using the word “
little
” far too often for the misunderstanding to be anything but little.

“It doesn't look
little
, Mayor. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Oh, no, just a little misplaced document.”

Suddenly the mess became clearer. “Misplaced document?”

“You know, a zoning thing. Jefferson Place is claiming that Triple Run's historic cemetery is in their town limits, not ours. They want to tear it down.”

“But surely there are state documents that prove otherwise. Something that shows the dividing line?”

Mayor Phillips's face turned red then, hints of sweat on his brow. “There are indeed. But then the area was rezoned to Jefferson Place, and Jefferson Place's mayor, Frankie Carter, and I signed an agreement to keep the zoning the way it had always been. But I cannot find the blasted document.”

Trip nodded slowly, wondering why he'd even asked. As a member of the board of trustees, he had an obligation to attend the monthly meetings, but since Mrs. Phillips had passed away a year ago and the mayor had refused to come out of his bedroom for a month, Trip had taken on the job of checking in to make sure nothing was missed—like a zoning agreement signed by two old men who likely had no idea what they were signing.

“Have you called Frankie to ask if he has a copy or if he's willing to sign a new agreement?”

“Of course, but he claims the document never existed!” The mayor threw his hands in the air, then held them, thought for a moment, and went to the filing cabinet against the left-hand wall. He opened the bottom drawer and proceeded to pull out all the files, only to huff loudly and return to his desk. “Not there. See, this is all over that Scrabble match two weeks ago. He lost and now he's punishing me.”

Trip walked over to the desk and began stacking papers. “I can call him, if you'd like.” He knew Frankie to be a difficult man, but this went beyond simply being difficult and straight into asshole territory. Mayor Phillips didn't have a mean bone in his body, so Trip knew he wouldn't stand up to Frankie like he should.

“No, no. I'll find the agreement, and then I'll make flyers of it and post it all over Jefferson Place's town square. That'll show him.”

So much for no mean bone. Trip shook his head, knowing there was no arguing with the man. “Right . . . that'll show him. Well, let me help you track it down.”

They spent the next hour searching every inch of the office, and before long, Trip wondered if maybe Frankie was right and there'd never been an agreement.

“So, Trip,” Mayor Phillips said from his desk chair. Come to think of it, he'd spent most of that hour sitting and directing Trip on places to look. “Are you going to open up about that little secret you're hiding at the barn?”

“And what secret would that be?” Trip asked as he glanced out the open office door to find several office workers near the doorway, listening in.

“Emery Carlisle.”

Trip's stomach clenched at the name, warmth spreading through him. “What about her?”

“We've noticed her in town from time to time. She refused to go into Patty's and instead bought cobbler from the cafe. No one eats the cobbler at the cafe.”

“So let me get this straight—she didn't buy a Bundt cake from Patty and now she's on the town's blacklist?”

“Now, now, we wouldn't
black-
list her. But it would sure help if we knew why she was here . . . and if she'd be hanging around a while. Some are saying you two are . . . close.”

“We're as close as the moon over an ocean.”

Mayor Phillips leaned back into his chair. “Yet the moon affects the tides, and something tells me Emery Carlisle's had an effect on you, son.”

Trip's hands paused while sorting the papers. The mayor was right—she'd definitely had an effect on him. It was the past repeating itself all over again. He just didn't know how to stop it. Maybe less time around her, though the thought of her leaving made him feel sick to the core. He wanted more time around her, wanted to hear that laugh of hers, that sass that put him in his place like no one else dared. He realized that he craved her attention like an addict craved his next fix. It was a sick, sick problem. And the more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

“All right, I think we're done here. I'll see you in a few days,” Trip said, starting for the door.

Mayor Phillips stood then, removed his glasses, and set them down on his desk. “Nothing wrong with feeling something, Trip. Some people go their whole lives without feeling. I'd hate to see that for you. I might have lost myself for a while after Elizabeth passed, but I don't regret a second of loving her. Those were the best days of my life.”

Trip sighed, wishing it were easier. “I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Mayor. See you next time.”

The sky had darkened outside by the time Trip left town hall, clouds moving in, threatening to storm. Thoughts worked through Trip's mind in harsh bursts, all the reasons he wanted Emery—and all the reasons he wasn't allowed to have her. He thought of the women he'd dated, how not one held a bit of the spark he'd felt with Emery. How not one made him want ridiculous things like
forever
.

None of this was fair. Mr. Sampson ordering him to leave all those years ago. Her coming back now, making him want her all the more. Lying to Beckett. Lying to his father. All for what? She wouldn't even ride the damn horse!

He threw his truck into park outside the stables and slammed the door, heat radiating off him in waves. And that's when he saw Emery's Jeep, parked there like she could come and go whenever she liked. Like this was her barn, not his. Rage shot straight from his heart to his head, and he stormed inside, spotting her outside Craving Wind's stall, petting the horse and whispering kind words. Then her head swung his way, those large blue eyes pinning him to the spot, and for a moment, all he could do was stare.

“Hey, stranger,” she said, smiling wide. “I was hoping to find you here. I—”

“Clark!”

Emery jumped at the harshness in Trip's voice, and instantly he wanted to apologize, but he pushed that away. He was a trainer, and he was damn good at his job. He didn't do emotions and weakness. He didn't fall for jockeys and employees. He didn't
do
any of this! They were done, a thing of the past. Why couldn't he keep her there?

Just then Trip's assistant trainer made his way toward them, his gaze shifting nervously between them. “You called?”

Several other stable hands came around to see what the commotion was about, which did nothing more than frustrate Trip further. He didn't want an audience, and he knew that was the last thing Emery needed, but enough with the delays. “Bring Craving Wind to the track. Emery's running him.”

“Now?” Clark asked, looking over to Emery. “Are you sure?”

Trip whipped around. “She doesn't need to be sure. I'm sure. Bring him down. Now.” Then he stormed from the stable, jumping in the cart and taking off before anyone could say another word. Anger pulsed in his chest, this time at himself. What the hell was he doing? He told himself he did his job, but he knew that wasn't the truth. He punished Emery for things that were in no way her fault. His feelings were just that, his. Complicated and stupid and stubborn to the bone.

By the time he circled around to check with Alex on a few broodmares scheduled to foal any day and then made it to the track, Clark and Emery were already there, Craving Wind saddled and ready to run.

The darkening sky went from navy to black, clouds moving so fast the rain could start any second, but the weather wasn't calling for rain, so Trip hoped the clouds would pass by without a threat.

Emery fixed her helmet into place, refusing to look at Trip, and his heart sank into his stomach. He was an asshole. A jerk-filled, piece of shit asshole. But while his reason for doing this didn't fully make sense to him, a part of him knew he needed to push Emery more than he had.

She gripped the reins, and Trip went over to give her a leg up, but she pushed him back. “No. I don't want your help.” The bite in her words made Trip want to punch himself in the face.

“Look, I didn't mean—”

“Clark, can you help me, please?” she asked, focusing on the assistant trainer.

Uneasy, Clark glanced from Trip to Emery. Poor man; he had no idea what he was in the middle of here. “Um, sure.”

He gripped her left leg and helped her up, and Lord if Trip didn't feel a stab of jealousy that he wasn't the one touching her, helping her. He hated himself more and more each second, but there was no undoing this. He knew Emery too well. She would ride Craving Wind now if for no other reason than to spite Trip, and maybe that was a good thing. If she never spoke to him again, at least it would be worth something.

She nodded thanks to Clark, then trotted away, her expression unreadable, but he could see the fear in her eyes, the tension in her back. The horse would sense it, too.

“Emery?” Trip said, but then she was off, bringing the horse to canter, letting his muscles warm up; then they ran at full gallop, and suddenly the pounding in Trip's heart had nothing to do with guilt. They sped around the track, less running and more flying. The horse had speed and stamina unlike any horse Trip had ever seen. His mouth fell slack and he waved Clark over. “Are you timing this?”

“One step ahead of you, boss,” Clark said, his eyes fixed on a stopwatch in his hand as Emery came back around to them and started a second set.

They continued to watch in amazement as Craving Wind showed off, barely appearing to work at all. He ran like he was born to run—and damn if he wasn't doing it well.

Emery finally slowed him down in front of them, the smile on her face so bright that Trip had to fight to keep from taking her off the horse and straight into his arms.

“Did you see that?” she squealed, slightly out of breath.

Clark held out the stopwatch to Trip, and he slowly walked over to her, knowing somewhere in that smile lay a woman ready to go off on him. “See for yourself, lady girl.”

Emery's eyes fixed on the watch and then she burst out laughing, her excitement bubbling over, water in her eyes “Is that for real?” she asked, her gaze on Clark. She might be excited, but she wasn't forgiving him for the episode back at the stables.

Trip started to say he was sorry, but then the sky opened up, pouring down on him, and he called for Clark to get Craving Wind to a small stable they kept near the practice track.

“Come with me!” he shouted to Emery over the rain, and he could see she wanted to argue. “Look, I get that you're pissed, but you can continue being pissed once we're dry and inside. All right?”