Riding into Love (5 page)

Chapter 8

D
espite the erratic weather across the States this February, Austin was holding at a comfortable sixty degrees. Clear blue skies stretched over the landscape like a canopy. Drew was able to keep the slight bite from the occasional breeze from getting to him with a light leather jacket and riding gloves. The dry ground was perfect for a day at the track. Drew's morning workout had him energized.

“Ready to ride?” Drew's teammate Sean asked as he stepped out of The Charlotte—a boutique hotel that Drew preferred during his visits to Austin. It offered a little reprieve from the fuss of the larger hotels. The two shook hands.

“Ready.” Drew beamed. He knew just what he wanted to work on today. Drew was in his element. He pictured himself tightly hugging the track's sharp turns, leaning so close to the ground he could reach out and touch it. Many relished the speed. Drew enjoyed the other aspects of racing that challenged him the most, like mastering treacherous curves, where skill and technique ruled.

“Sir?” The young valet brought Drew out of his visions of racing grandeur. Drew handed him the ticket, held his face high to catch the cool breeze passing by and scanned what he could see of the city's urban landscape.

There was something about Austin that he appreciated, though he wasn't sure what it was. It had the charm of the south with a cool vibe. It was a hot spot for music lovers of all types. Night offered every possible option to indulge in whatever one was in the mood for. What Drew loved for sure was the fact that Austin was a race-loving town. Just beyond the city's borders was America's only MotoGP track—a US home for the best and fastest racing in the motorcycle world. He wondered if a city boy like him could actually live there.

The valet arrived in Drew's rental. As they drove, the landscape changed from tall buildings jutting toward the sky to cozy neighborhoods and roads both wide and narrow that wound their way through expansive greenery to their destination.

Drew parked and jumped out of the car with Sean by his side. Scores of riders, from novices to professionals, poured into the massive space that spanned over twenty acres with 3.4 miles of racing track, seating for 120,000 fans, an amphitheater, a soaring observation tower and a grand plaza with a promenade featuring retail and concessions shops.

They met the rest of the crew at the entrance. Adrenaline had already begun to pump through Drew's veins. Track days were like long tailgate parties. Music blared from the speakers throughout the stadium, beer flowed, groupies dressed scantily and motorcycle lovers relished in their element.

“Hey!” A lean man with long, slick hair pulled into a low ponytail greeted the team with high fives and brief hugs. His Argentinian accent was thick.

“Antonio! My man!” Drew greeted him and the rest of the team. He was fond of his former team member, who still raced with Hiroshi. He'd taught Drew a lot about technique.

Gary Hayden walked up just as they were about to enter the building. Continuing the greetings, Drew offered him a cool and distant hello, void of all the enthusiasm he exhibited with the other racers. It was obvious that Gary wasn't his favorite person and for good reason. Drew knew he was likely to see him there. The two had fallen out with one another years ago when they had raced in the same division. Since then they cordially kept their distance whenever their paths crossed. Fortunately, they were never on the same team, which would have forced them to set their differences aside. That would have been hard for Drew since Gary wasn't a very likable guy, and his competitive nature extended way beyond the track. Gary had ultimately crossed the line when he had actively pursued Jade Donnelly, Drew's ex-girlfriend, while she and Drew were still together. She had been the one woman that Drew had considered marrying. Drew and Gary had almost come to blows the time Gary had openly flirted with her right in Drew's face before one of their races. Drew's anger almost cost him third place.

The men headed to the locker rooms to put on their gear before heading to the track, where their custom practice bikes were waiting for them. They paid a local instructor to maintain and house their motorcycles.

Sean leaned toward Drew as they walked with their helmets tucked under their arms. “You and Gary still at odds?”

“I wouldn't consider us as being
at odds
. I'm not fond of the guy and, honestly, he's not fond of me, so I guess we're even.” Drew wouldn't say any more on the matter.

Sean shrugged and then nodded. “I guess that's fair,” he said after a while.

“You're still coming with us to the community center tomorrow afternoon?” Drew asked Sean, changing the subject.

“Of course.”

“Cool.” Drew clapped his hands together. “Now let's ride!”

A loud voice saturated with a languid Southern drawl interrupted the country music blaring through the speakers. The second announcer whooped and joined the first with an accent that was just as strong. Hastening at their enthusiasm and instructions, some riders mounted their bikes while others prepared for their turns on the track. The men talked about their expectations for the upcoming season until it was time for them to hit the track.

Drew only half listened, bobbing his head to Tim McGraw as he inspected his bike. His appreciation for his motorcycles rivaled his fondness for his lovers. Drew softly stroked the metal with a mix of admiration and respect. He brushed off a speck of dust and straddled the machine with a sated smile.

“Yeah!” Drew yelled out to amp up his racing brethren.

“Woo!” Sean pumped his fist.

“Hiroshi!” Antonio yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone.

Drew and Sean waved him off with a hearty laugh. Gary simply nodded.

“It's time to ride!” Drew started the engine. He could feel the vibration through his entire body. He closed his eyes to feel it deeper. “You're beautiful, baby.” Drew spoke sweet nothings to his bike. He revved the engine. It was almost time for them to hit the track. His heart beat a little faster as he continued bobbing his head to the music. He zoned out the announcer's voice completely now as he focused on Bebe, which was what he called this bike. Each one had a feminine-sounding name that doubled as a nickname for something else. This one was a beast—fast, furious, custom-built to his specifications with a fire-breathing dragon painted on the sides. Pulling his helmet down over his face, Drew took off first, riding slowly toward the starting point.

Drew looked out over the track, taking note of the sharp turns, envisioning himself leaning into them. He was ready to give the new techniques he'd learned a try. Folks in the stands and along the sidelines cheered as if it were an actual race day. Drew revved his engine again, smiling hard behind his helmet. Riding gave him so much joy.

Sean and their fellow racers lined up. The announcer called for the start. Drew leaned forward on the bike, his chest nearly touching the body. He set the bike in gear. Horns blew. With skillful control, Drew released the clutch, simultaneously churned the throttle, picked up his feet and took off.

Drew leaned even closer to the bike.

“Speak to me, baby girl.” The bike did, revving, rather whirring, letting Drew know she was ready for more. Drew advanced the bike into the next gear, waited to hear her hum again and then kicked it up one more time. Excitement surged in his core and spread through every nerve in his body. The speed was intoxicating. He wanted more, yet waited for the bike's cue. She purred again and he took the gears up another notch. Despite incredible speed, he felt weightless and free as if he were riding through clouds.

Drew approached his first curve, a minor one for a professional. He leaned toward the ground, pushing his motorcycle in the direction of the curve, squeezing the bike between his legs. He balanced his weight by tilting his upper body in the opposite direction and then guided the bike back into an upright position as he came out of the curve. Drew repeated this technique, adjusting his angle to get the turns just right. Happy with his results, he approached the sharpest turn with fervor. He mastered that fierce turn with precision and then beamed with pride under his helmet. After his first round, Drew challenged himself to cut through the curves cleaner and faster, putting the strength of his upper body to work. There was no doubt he'd gotten better. Nothing could stop him from winning this year.

On his last lap, Drew bolted out of a turn, eating up the track and leaving those around him in his wake. He could feel that someone was gaining on him. Confident and unmoved, he kept his stride and prepared for his next turn. The person behind him came dangerously close. When Drew righted his back after that last turn, he felt a jolt that caused his rear wheel to skip across the pavement. The bike swerved and Drew tried to control it, but he flew several yards in one direction, landing on his shoulder, and the bike went in the other. Drew hurried to his feet and ran to the grass at the center of the track as other bikes whizzed past him. The other racers slowed as a crew ran to Drew's aid while one of the guys from the pit went for the bike. Several riders stopped to see if he was okay. Sean and Antonio were at his side. Medical personnel joined them, asking questions and looking Drew over.

“You okay, dude? I'm sorry, man.” The guy who clipped him seemed genuinely worried.

Drew shook his head, shaking off the brief haze from the narrow escape.

“I'm fine,” he said. However, his arm hung limp and he held on to his shoulder as pain surged through it. A few gentlemen helped him off the track. The physician on site examined him. There were no broken bones, but his shoulder was dislocated.

At the hospital, they put it back in place and gave him meds. The doctor recommended he follow up with his regular physician.

The pain was bearable after taking the medication that was prescribed, but Drew knew he'd have to care for that shoulder to ensure that it would be strong enough to get through the season. Upset, he cursed. He didn't have time for injuries. Drew didn't want his team to regret signing him. He had a win to secure.

Surprisingly, the next thought that came to mind was Alana. For some reason, he wondered what she might have said had she witnessed his fall. How would she have reacted? He also wondered how it would feel to know that she was in the stands rooting for him. Drew had every intention of finding out.

Chapter 9

K
nowing that Drew was out of town helped Alana focus. She needed every bit of her brain to work through her and Cadence's current crisis. Since their practice opened, business had thrived—until now.

Alana pushed herself back from the round table where she and Cadence convened to review the state of their business, drew in a long breath and released it with a groan.

“We need more clients.”

“It's not that bad, Alana.” Cadence didn't sound too convinced. “We're just experiencing our first lull. It happens in every business. Our financial situation still looks decent.”

“I don't want business to be decent. I want our business to flourish and, unless we get more clients, those finances won't continue to be somewhat pretty.” Alana stood and walked over to the window overlooking Thirty-fourth Street and folded her arms. She watched as the people below weaved through foot traffic on the wide sidewalks like they were doing a choreographed dance. “We need to be strategic about acquiring clients. With all the work that we put into developing our brand, I don't want us to come across as ambulance chasers. I don't want to find myself stalking newspapers to find out what famous person did something illegal so we can represent them.”

“I know.” Cadence flopped back in her seat.

“I think we're just spoiled. Most law firms spend years trying to secure the clients who we've represented from the moment we opened our doors.”

“I hate to admit it, but being associated with Blake's case put us on the map for those high-profile cases when we opened this practice.”

“Exactly. After that, one led to another and we became known for successfully handling famous clients.”

“The only problem is—”

“They don't happen all the time.” Cadence and Alana spoke at the same time.

“Right.” Alana gave Cadence a pointed look. “Truthfully, we don't need a high-profile case. We just need a more steady flow.”

“You're right. What tasteful marketing strategies can we use to bring more clients?” Cadence stood and paced, tapping her palm with a pen. “Let's see.”

“Oh! I know.” Alana opened her journal and started jotting down notes. “I'll have a chat with some of the members at the association who run their own practices. I'm sure they'll have some information that they can share with us.”

“That's a good idea. Let's set up a dinner where we can gain some insight into the long term.”

“We have a membership meeting coming up next week. I'll bring it up then. In the meantime, I'll start working on a list of things we can do to get our name out there or perhaps capitalize on the exposure that we received from our last big case.”

Cadence rounded the small table and stood behind Alana as she wrote. “Maybe we can hire a PR firm to help us get more coverage like the article that magazine did on us after the Johnson case. It's possible that they can help keep our firm's name in the glow of the spotlight.”

“Let's do it!” Alana sat back in her chair and exhaled. “I'm feeling a little better, but I'd feel great if more clients walked through that door.” Alana pointed toward the entrance.

“Tell me about it.” Cadence looked at her watch. “It's lunchtime. What do you feel like eating?”

Alana reached into her bottom desk drawer, pulled out her purse and stood. “Let's go to the BBQ place on Eighth.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were seated at a small table at the rear of the lively eatery, which was filled with impatient patrons trying to get the most out of their lunch hours. After ordering two BBQ-chicken salads, a side of fried pickles and sweet potato fries, they settled into small talk.

“Have you spoken with Drew lately?”

Alana stuck her fork in Cadence's plate and stabbed a sweet potato fry. “Lord, no!” She chewed the fry before continuing. “I haven't heard from him since he left my house that night. Why?”

Cadence cut a strip of her chicken with the side of her fork. “He's been asking about you.”

Alana didn't expect her heartbeat to stutter. Her gasp was slight. She cleared her throat to cover her reaction, hoping it went unnoticed, but Cadence's prolonged glance, coupled with a somewhat lifted brow, confirmed that Cadence had heard. Alana sat back and sighed. “Why?”

Cadence put her utensils down and gave Alana a suspicious gaze. “What's really going on with the two of you? Is there something you're not telling me?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

Cadence tilted her head but kept her eyes on Alana.

“Listen, lady—” Alana pointed her fork at Cadence “—you don't have to believe me, but I was serious when I said I wasn't dating.” Alana pierced a forkful of salad and swirled it around her plate. Suddenly, she wasn't hungry anymore. “Especially with Drew. I don't have the patience or energy to have a rendezvous with that man. When I start dating again, I want someone who I know will focus on me and me only. Besides, Drew is hardly ever here. I'd never survive a long-distance relationship.”

“You don't have to convince me.” Cadence held her hands up in surrender.

“And another thing—” Alana pointed again “—this next frog is going to have to put in some major work to win me over.”

“Right!” Cadence threw her head back.

“Seriously. From where I stand, they're all frogs until proven princes. Cute frogs, tall frogs, muscular frogs, frogs that break up with you by text and frogs that race motorcycles for a living!”

Cadence leaned back in her chair, holding her belly as she laughed.

Alana couldn't help but join her. “My grandma used to say that if you lie down with dogs you'll wake up with fleas. Well, I say, if you spend time with frogs, you'll end up with warts!”

“Stop! Please!” Cadence begged, still laughing. “I think Drew has prince potential. If Blake and Hunter could settle down, so can he.”

Instead of answering, Alana twisted her lips and filled her mouth with salad, forcing down her food and her smart remark.

“Alana, if Drew pursued you and was truly sincere about being in a committed relationship, would you consider dating him again?”

“Cay, that man probably couldn't spell
commitment
.”

“Just answer the question.”

“I don't know.” Alana shrugged. “I doubt it.”

“Aw, I kind of wish things would work out between the two of you. It would be so cool, don't you think? Best friends dating brothers.”

“We're not sixteen, lady.”

“I know, but it would still be pretty cool, wouldn't it?”

“I guess.” Alana looked at her watch. “We'd better get back.”

Cadence signaled their waiter for the check just before her phone rang. “Hey, babe!”

A smile that beamed like a sun ray eased across Cadence's face and Alana knew it had to be Blake on the other line. When her facial expression turned serious, Alana became concerned.

What's wrong?
Alana mouthed.

“It's Drew,” Cadence whispered. “What hospital did they take him to?”

What? When? Is he hurt badly?
This time Alana's heartbeat didn't just stutter—it stopped beating altogether for a few moments.