Clutched (Wild Riders) (5 page)

I could see the remorse in his eyes but his stubborn stance remained. “Oh, you're a coach now?”

“I don’t know. Are you?” I couldn't stop the words if I'd wanted to. This guy had been pushing my buttons and I'd had enough. I felt my nails bite into my skin as my hands balled into fists at my side. “You helped your brother. Big deal. You've got about as much experience coaching as I do.”

He shook his head and huffed out a breath.

“If I was coaching a rider, I sure as shit wouldn't expect the person I was hired to help to sit on her ass all afternoon and waste daylight. The whole point of a riding coach is to be a coach while riding. Why that's such a hard concept for you to understand, I'm not sure.”

“Oh I understand the concept, sweetheart,” he assured me, pushing the chair that was separating us to the side. I felt my chest heave with the effort of taking in oxygen when he stepped toward me. His eyes looked like laser beams about to cut completely through me. “The problem is, the second you fire up your bike, you stop listening. You stop paying attention to the words that are coming out of my mouth. At least in here,
sitting on your ass
, you’re paying attention.” He reached up and tapped my forehead with his finger. “If you could get your brain to stop pretending that it knows everything then maybe I'd be more inclined to let you ride.”

I fought back a laugh. A laugh that was brought on by the fact that I was so utterly pissed at him that my only option was to laugh, cry, or punch him in the face. I never pretended to know it all. I never even pretended to know half of it.

“Well, maybe if you'd get this,” I reached up between us and tapped my finger against his forehead the same way he'd done to me. “Out of your ass and actually acted like a coach instead of a drill instructor, I'd be more inclined to listen.”

He didn't move. He didn't even flinch. He stood there with his jaw clenched and his eyes still locked on mine. I'd expected him to say something. To argue that I was wrong. Hell, a tiny little part of me actually even thought he might apologize. Instead, he did nothing.

Glaring and breathing—that was all we were both capable of at that particular moment.

“Whatever.” I gave up, hating to back down but I was done wasting my time. He wasn't going to change his style any more than I was. “I'll be on the track if you decide you want to actually coach today.”

* * *

“N
ice bike, McCade.” Link Hoffman was on the track. After I'd told Hoyt to pull his head out of his ass, I went straight to the sheds to get my bike out.
Screw him
. If he thought I was going to sit around all day watching movies he was even more stupid than I thought. I was done listening to whatever he had to say. There had to be some give and take in this relationship if it was going to work. By relationship, I meant coach/rider relationship. That was the only kind of relationship I could even consider with that arrogant prick. Even if he did occasionally manage to get under my skin and make butterflies flutter around my stomach.  He was still an asshole. Grade A with a cherry on top.

“Thanks,” I said, turning my attention back to Link. At least he was nice to me. At least when I talked to him he didn't make me feel like I was an idiot. “Feel like running a few laps with me?”

“You sure that your coach won't care?” he asked, nodding his head toward the Main Hall. Hoyt was making his way over to the track with his stupid notebook in his hand. “The last thing I want is to get on a Travers' bad side.”

“Jesus,” I said, shaking my head. “He's not the freaking crowned prince of motocross,” I said with a huff.

“He pretty much is,” Link said with a laugh. “His brother is like the king, anyway.”

“Look, Hoffman. Ride with me and I'll agree to that drink in your trailer you've been hounding me about.” I'd resorted to bribery. Link had been asking me to hang out with him since I'd arrived at Mill Valley.

Things were different now though. Before, I was really trying to make the most of my time here. Now I was certain that things were going to fall apart with Hoyt and Throttled was going to drop me the moment he informed them that I wasn't worth it. If I was going out, I was going on my terms. Riding my bike. Having a few drinks. Hanging out with a guy that actually made me feel like I was worth something, even if he did just want to sleep with me. I had enough pent up frustration to be totally okay with the situation I was putting myself in.

I pulled on my goggles and kicked on my bike. Just as I squeezed the clutch, Link started his bike and gave me a nod to say he was game. Finally. A man that listened to me and did something that I wanted for once.

Link and I were in prime form, pushing each other as we rounded the turns and one upping each other on the jumps. It was fun to ride with him. He got it. It was about the speed and the adrenaline and nothing else. To Hoyt it was all about execution and statistics and blah, blah, blah...

The second time we crossed the finish line, I let my bike idle to a stop and looked around for Mr. Buzzkill. I expected him to be waiting on the sidelines with his stopwatch and notebooks, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Fucking figures.

I was out there having a great run and he was nowhere to be found. Probably pouting about our little spat earlier. I revved my bike and took off. It was his loss that he wasn't out here. He wanted to see me ride at my best and he was missing it. I scanned the area for Link who was quite a ways ahead of me. I should have just waited for him to lap back around, but I loved a challenge. I'd catch him. As soon as I took off, I heard the rumble of another motor coming up behind me.

Glancing over my shoulder on the straightaway, I didn't recognize the bike. I didn't recognize the gear. I surely didn't recognize the rider. Whoever he was, I wasn't about to let him lap me on our first meeting. My pulse kicked up and I felt the heat of anger on my cheeks.

Who the hell did this guy think he was?

I throttled out and leaned forward, urging my bike to pick up speed. Mystery rider matched me and before I knew it he was on my right side, taking the first turn much lower than I did and sliding right past me.

“Shit,” I grumbled as I gained ground. The second turn snuck up on me as I was trying to catch up. Again, he took it low, leaving me no room to edge ahead. Every. Single. Turn. He out maneuvered me. He out rode me. He beat me. It was infuriating to say the least.

I hated losing.

When I crossed the finish line he was waiting for me. His broad shoulders held back proudly as he sat on his bike. The muscles in his forearms tightened when he pulled up his sleeves and unfastened his gloves. His long legs stretched out as he put his feet on the ground and I could see that he was in great shape. Not to mention, the view of his ass he'd forced me to see wasn't anything to shake a stick at. Maybe I'd rethink that whole hating him because he beat me game and ask him if he wanted to hang out later. Off the track. The second he pulled off his helmet and I saw the face underneath, my jaw fell.

Hoyt Fucking Travers.

“Are you done questioning my abilities now?” he asked with a smug smile.

“C
ome on,” I told her as I watched her struggle with her final rep of pull-ups. We'd been in the gym for over an hour and I could see the sweat dripping down her face. “You want to ride with the big boys, you're going to have to be able to keep up with them in the gym too.”

I hadn't told her yet that her time on the track was one second lower than I'd previously recorded. Not that she even gave me a chance. After I'd watched her ride around with Hoffman and then given her a taste of what I was actually capable on a bike, she'd left without saying a word. I'd expected at least a smart ass comment from her when I beat her, but nope. She left without so much as a glance in my direction.

I wasn’t sure what she’d expected from me, but I certainly had not expected her to turn into a petulant child the second I started giving her constructive criticism. Everything I was doing was for her own good. She was just too damn stubborn to see it.

I thought about chasing after her and telling her I was sorry if I'd sounded like an asshole and for making her watch a video of her father, but I didn't. If I apologized, then she'd think I was soft. She'd think I was easily manipulated. I was there to coach her, plain and simple. A fact that I was making clear with the workout I was currently putting her through. If she didn't respect me yet, she would. I'd make her see that I was right. I was the one calling the shots. Not her.

And under no circumstances was I going to take it easy on her just because she had haunted my damn dreams every night.

I'd worried the night before that she might not show up this morning. Tossed and turned actually. Especially after I saw Link follow her off the track yesterday. The way she'd grinned at him like he’d done something special had me seeing red. Or maybe it was green. It was odd that I felt a twinge of jealousy considering I could barely stand being around her during training. Why I would want to hang out with her off the track was baffling, even to me, and I was smart guy. I knew she wanted this career just as much as I wanted mine, and hoped to God she wouldn't throw it all away on a guy like Link Hoffman. Sure, he was a promising up and comer. But I knew guys like him. He'd throw it all away for a piece of ass and a wild night. I just hoped Chayse was smart enough to see that all he wanted from her was a quick lay and a good time.

As I watched her from behind, I could see her arms were straining. Her reflection in the mirrored wall of the gym showed the worry in her eyes. Worry that she might not be able to get her chin above the bar one last time was loud and clear. I fought back my instincts to give her a boost and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Get all the way up,” I said. “How bad do you want this?” Her eyes narrowed and I could tell she really wanted to tell me to fuck off. If she needed anger to get her through this work out then I'd be happy to oblige. Besides, she was kind of cute when she was all fired up. She groaned through her final pull up and dropped quickly to her feet.

“Happy now?” she said through labored breathes as she bent at her waist. Her long ponytail nearly swept the ground as she rested her hands on her knees. The way her tight workout pants stretched out across her ass had my attention. Sweetest ass I'd ever laid eyes on. Perfect. Full. Like a ripe, juicy peach. I felt a twitch in my palm and my cock. I'd never thought about wanting to spank someone before. The longer I stood there staring at her, the more I wondered why not. It seemed like it might just be the best idea I'd ever had. She was stubborn, too, so she’d fight hard not to let me know if it stung.  “Like what you see?”

“What?” I said, immediately pulling my attention from her body. My entire face went numb. Shit. What the fuck was wrong with me?

“Was the workout good? Or do you have a list of everything I did wrong on the little notepad of yours?” she asked, standing up and walking across the gym to retrieve her water bottle. The knots in my stomach released when I'd realized she hadn't just caught me staring at her ass.

The list of things I wanted to do her continued to grow despite how I felt about her. It was a damn shame that her smart mouth and bad attitude weren't as appealing as her tight little body.

“You did all right,” I told her. “You made it through at least.”

“What's next?”

“Let's take a break,” I suggested. I needed one probably more than she did. My libido was calling the shots and I needed to get away from her before she caught on. “Films in five then we’ll hit the track after lunch.”

She nodded, despite the fact I could tell she wanted to watch films about as bad as she wanted to be in the gym with me that morning. She wiped her face with a towel before pulling it over her shoulders. “Can't wait.”

* * *

R
eid’s name flashed across the screen of my phone. I was waiting for Chayse in the lounge of the Main Hall. My laptop opened and a handful of videos were pulled up in the YouTube queue. There was plenty to learn from watching other riders. Especially when it came to form and technique.

“Hey, brother. What's up?” 

“There's been an accident,” he said.

“What?! Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. It's Brett. He was riding my bike this morning and something...” he cleared his throat, clearly still upset. “Something went wrong. With the bike. He messed up his leg pretty bad.”

“What went wrong?” I asked. I felt a sense of blame lock into my chest. I was the one who always looked over the bikes. I was the one that made sure things were up to par. “Did he check it before he rode?”

“I don't know. I think.” He went on to explain exactly what had happened. Brett asked to take my brother's bike for a spin and it suddenly shut down mid jump. It wasn't something that normally happened. Especially to practically new bikes. “It's fucked up. I really think someone messed with it.”

“Beau?” My first guess was probably Reid's as well. Beau and my brother had a rivalry that went all the way back to middle school. The two of them had constantly battled it out on the track, until one day my brother became better. It was like all of his natural talent and practice just finally clicked. Beau couldn't touch him on the track.

“He's done it before,” Reid reminded me.

On Beau's last attempt to best my brother he cut the break line on his bike right before a big race. Luckily, Reid hadn't been hurt and the sponsors watching the race hadn't cared that he'd had one bad race. They still offered him a spot on the pro-circuit, which only pissed off Beau Gregurich more. Fast forward seven years to Reid's gallant return to our sleepy hometown. Not only did Beau still hate my brother's guts, he was also dating Reid's ex, Nora Bennett. Keyword
was
. Reid won her back, hence the reason we both assumed Gregurich was responsible for this latest mechanical malfunction. “I'm going to fucking kill him.”

“Don't do anything stupid.” My rationalism kicked in. I knew that Reid was steaming mad. Hell, I was right there with him, but the last thing he needed to do was seek out vigilante justice on Beau's dumb ass and wind up with a whole heap of trouble he didn't need interfering with his career. “Have you had anyone look at the bike yet?”