Clutched (Wild Riders) (9 page)

That's why I am here?

What happened to earning my place? My abilities? My passion for the sport? My name was the reason I was here. The look on Nick's face when I turned to him for some reassurance that I wasn't just here because of my bloodline was lacking.

“She's much more than Rick McCade's daughter,” Hoyt finally spoke up. “She'll ride circles around his records.” If Turnbold hadn't pulled the rug out from underneath me, I might have been just as floored by the fact that Hoyt Travers he was complimenting my riding. It was all too much.

“Excuse me, please.” I had to get out of there. Nick wanted me to impress the investors, not lose my mind in front of them.

* * *

I
didn't even bother telling anyone I was leaving. I couldn't believe I was stupid enough to think that I'd actually earned the offer from Throttled on my own merit. My race record wasn't that impressive. I'd never had any other offers from sponsors. I should have known that the McCade name was the reason I was offered a contract. It had nothing to do with the “potential” Nick had insisted he saw when I rode.

From the moment I sat on my first bike, I was constantly compared to my father in one way or another. I should have chosen a different profession, but all I wanted to do was ride. That might have been the only good thing Rick gave me. I could do without the short fuse and the chip on my shoulder.

There was a knock on my trailer door only minutes after I'd locked myself in to call it a night. I prayed it was Nick. I couldn't take a lecture about appeasing investors tonight. As I walked over and unlocked the door, I assumed it would be Link stopping by to ask me if I wanted to hang out or have a drink. Both of which I could do as long as I didn't have to kiss anyone's ass.

Warm chocolate eyes met mine when I opened the door, which was a stark comparison from the cold distant glare he was usually giving me.

“What are you doing here?” I didn't bother opening the screen door when I saw it was Hoyt. He was probably just coming to tell me my training time for tomorrow or tell me it was past my bedtime.

“I... I... Are you okay?” The nervous purse of his lips was the same as when he'd been waiting to talk to the investors. He swallowed hard and pulled the screen door open. “Can I come in?”

“If you want.” I shrugged and stepped out of his way. I enjoyed when he was off his game, so I decided to let him in. He had stuck up for me back there with Turnbold, I guess I at least owed him a thank you. “Want a drink?” The smell of his cologne hit my nose as he brushed past me and I felt my knees wobble slightly. He took a seat on the small bench sofa and watched me as I moved through the kitchen area. His eyes were looking for something, searching my face and my eyes for tears or anger. He was looking at me like he actually cared. The ache in my chest said I'd missed being cared about. I steadied myself with my wobbly heart and knees and grabbed two beers. The cold air from the fridge was a welcome relief.

“You want to talk about it?” Hoyt finally asked when he took the beer from my hand. His fingertips lingered on my hand and I didn't immediately pull away. He'd probably never admit, but I knew he was just as attracted to me as I was to him. He might have thought we were done with that conversation, but if he kept looking at me the way he was right then, we'd be having it sooner rather than later.

“Not particularly,” I replied, pulling the beer up to my lips—not missing the way his eyes followed the bottle—as I leaned up against the counter and watched him. “What a freaking disaster,” I said. Maybe I did want to talk about it. “I didn't even get a chance to talk to Murray,” I told him, adding to the list of reasons that party was a complete mess.

“Did you want to?”

“I mean... he's the guy writing the checks. It would have been nice to officially meet him.”

“I guess,” Hoyt said with a shrug. “He's a little intense. I kind of like the aura of mystery.”

“Ha!” I couldn't hold back a laugh.

“What?”

“That's about like the pot calling the kettle intense,” I teased. “You and Murray probably have a lot more in common than the rest of us.”

“I don't know about that.” Hoyt shook his head. A moment passed between us. “Don't worry about not getting to meet him,” he finally said. “I'm sure there will be plenty of other opportunities.”

“Yeah.” I knew that he was right, but I hated that not one thing had gone my way tonight. “Thank you for what you said,” I said softly. The way that Hoyt had stuck up for me feeling a little warm and fuzzy.

Maybe one thing went right tonight.

“Yeah, don't mention it. What kind of coach would I be if I didn't stick up for my rider? Plus, what that guy said was bullshit. You're not just here because of your name.”

“No?” I scoffed. “They sure made it seem that way.”

“If you couldn't ride they wouldn't have offered you a deal, regardless of your name.” He paused. “And, if it makes you feel any better,” he said. “They only hired me because my brother makes them a shit ton of money?”

“Didn't you help your brother get good enough to make them all that money though?”

“Maybe,” he replied. “But maybe it was all just a fluke and he would have gotten better without me.”

“I don't know about that,” I said. Hearing him confess an insecurity had me feeling a little soft for him. “My times have improved. You might have a few good ideas.”

“I'll be damned,” he said, placing his hand on his heart. The boyish grin on his face made my stomach flutter. “Did you actually just admit that I'm helping you?”

“Don't let it go to your head, Travers.” I kicked his foot with mine as I leaned against the counter. “You might know a thing or two, that's all I'm saying.”

“That's a start,” he said with a chuckle. We moved to the sofa and there was a genuine instant feeling of respect that seemed to pass between the two of us as we sat there. The silence was filled with words that I think both of us wanted to say, but instead we just looked at each other. It was kind of nice.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked. I shrugged. He was going to ask me whether I wanted him to or not. “How did you end up riding in the first place if you hate your dad so much? Why would you even want to do something that he did?”

“I don't know,” I confessed. “I mean... since the moment I learned what motocross was, it's all I ever wanted to do.” I laughed, thinking about the first time I'd ridden a dirt bike. It wasn't my finest moment. “I was eleven or so,” I started to explain. “There was this kid a few neighborhoods over from me. He lived in the fancy part of town,” I said, quoting “fancy” with my fingertips in the air. I told Hoyt how I couldn't even remember the kid's name or why exactly I was at his house. “So anyway,” I continued. Hoyt was listening so intently to my words that I started to ramble as I got lost in his eyes. “What's-his-name had a dirt bike. He was putting around on it in his backyard. Looking like a complete squirrel. I don't even think he knew how to shift. I'd never rode a bike before, but I knew he was doing it all wrong.”

“An expert at eleven,” Hoyt teased. “I see some things haven't changed.”

“Haha,” I deadpanned.

“So what happened? You ran home and told your mom she had to get you a dirt bike?”

“No. I stole his bike.”

“Shut up.”

“I'm serious,” I assured him. “Not my finest moment. But, I couldn't stop myself. He parked it for a split second and I hopped on. The second I was on it and pushed down on the clutch I knew I was doing exactly what I was meant to do.”

“So you've always been insane?”

“Pretty much.” I laughed. “I rode it home and told my mom I'd found it on the side of the road.” I still remember the look on her face when she saw me pull into the driveway of the apartment complex we were living in. “She ran out. Her arms flailing as if I'd stolen the Hope Diamond.” Hoyt chuckled. I'd laughed about that story on more than one occasion. “Of course she made me return the bike and apologize. I eventually wore her down until she helped me get my own bike.”

“It's a good thing she did. You’re a great rider.” I felt my cheeks flush at his compliment. I wasn't used to him being so damn nice to me.

“I learned pretty quickly that the reason she didn't want me on a bike was because she didn't want to remember my dad. When I finally learned exactly who he was I almost quit riding, but then I said fuck it. I'll just be better than him.”

Hoyt nodded. “Very possible.” He hesitated. “Since we seem to be having a moment... I want to apologize for being such a dick on the track,” he finally spoke up. “In front of Reid and Nora. I should have told you that you were doing a good job. Because you have been. Even if I don't say it all the time. Or ever.”

“It's not a big deal. I can handle the criticism,” I assured him.

“It is a big deal. I'm so used to dealing with dudes that I forget you have feelings and all that.”

“All that?” I raised my brows. Was he insinuating that because I was a girl I couldn't handle his coaching style? “You mean like boobs and a vagina?”

The beer nearly sprayed from his lips as he choked on his drink. “That's not what I was saying.”

“Don't treat me any differently because I'm a girl, Hoyt.” I shook my head. “I'm a rider first and foremost. I can handle your mood swings and Hilter-esque coaching style. What I can't handle is you acting like I'm going to break because you tell me I'm doing something wrong.”

“Really? Because you handle it all so well?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and trained his eyes on mine. “Getting all emotional and storming off every damn time something doesn't go the way you want it to.”

“I do not.” I argued even as my mind replayed our time together. I did storm off the track the first day we met. And out of the gym. And out of the party we were just attending.

“You absolutely do.”  Maybe he was right.

“Whatever. Even if I storm off, it doesn't mean that I'm giving up. Sometimes I just need a break. I always come back.” I took a second to gather my thoughts. The way he was looking at me like he knew he had my number had my blood boiling. Just when I thought we could be friends he went and said something stupid about me having
feelings.
“At least I have emotions.”

“Oh, I have emotions,” he said, setting his empty beer bottle down on the table next to the sofa. “I just happen to be better at keeping them where they belong.”

“Congratulations, Hoyt. You're a statue.”

“There's a time and place to let them get the best of you,” he said as he stood up. “On the track is not one of them.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared me down. If he was trying to be intimidating by standing over me it wasn't working. All it was doing was heating me up from the inside out. Anger swirled with lust is a deadly combination.

“Is this your 'there's no crying in motocross speech?” I straightened up, meeting his heated gaze. “If so, you can save it.”

“It's not. It's my quit being such a pain in my ass speech. Just do what you're supposed to do and things will be fine. Quit second guessing everything I say.”

“I will. Just as soon as you stop second guessing what's really going on here.”

“I'm not second guessing anything.” He averted his eyes to the nearest wall.

“Then look at me,” I told him. He was so good at shooting orders at me, maybe he needed a dose of his own medicine. “Look at me.” I reached out to touch his shoulder, but he shook his head. I pulled back my hand.

“Don't.” I could see his throat muscles tighten as he clenched his jaw.

“Don't what?” I wanted to run my mouth across his neck. I wanted to see if he tasted the way I imagined—sweet and spicy. I wanted to stop talking and see if the physical connection between us was different than the emotional. I'd reached the point where I needed some kind of satisfaction from him. If we were never going to see eye to eye on the track, maybe we could someplace else. Like on my kitchen counter.

“Don't try and get me to cross the line with you.” He finally turned his head back toward me. The confliction was written all over his face.

“I'm not,” I said, stepping toward him. “I just need to know the truth. I need to know that all of the things I feel when I don't want to kill you are real. I need to know that I'm not losing my mind.”

“You know as well as I do that nothing good can come of this.”

“Do I?”

“You don't want to lose this deal with Throttled,” he reminded me. “No more than I do.”

“Maybe I don't care.” I placed my hand on his chest. He didn't pull away or tell me to stop.

“You do care.” He softly pushed my hair to one side and my head fell to the left as he leaned in to whisper into my ear. “And you're not losing your mind.” I felt vindicated that he'd actually admitted that he was attracted to me. Vindicated and disappointed all at the same time. No matter what I wanted to believe... he was right. We both had too much too much to lose. He side-stepped me, leaving the heat of his mouth on my skin as he walked out the door. “I'll see you in the gym at eight.”

I
'd been taking cold showers for a week and I still couldn't stop myself from getting hard every time I thought about her. Even beating off wasn't satisfying the itch. Thankfully, she'd been more than amicable during our training sessions. I think she actually thought about what I said when I told her we both had too much to lose. But, hearing her say that she felt something for me in her trailer was more than enough to send my libido into overdrive.

Especially after seeing her all dressed up at the meet and greet. Don't get me wrong, she was sexy as hell in her riding gear, but that little black dress she'd worn and those boots had me all kinds of tangled up inside. I knew exactly what I needed to do to get straightened out, but sliding that short skirt up over her ass and burying myself deep inside of her was the kind of behavior that would definitely cross a line.

I had to channel my frustrations elsewhere. She was managing just fine, so I would too. I'd already agreed to meet a couple guys from the staff here at Mill Valley out for beers later. Perhaps I'd be able to find someone else to fill the space in my bed that was taunting me every night. Nothing long term, just enough to dull the ache I felt every time I looked at Chayse.