Cole

by Tess Oliver

  A huge round of applause went up. Cole’s shoulders relaxed as some of the tension dissolved from his body. “He’s awake. Let’s get down to the pits and wait for him.” Cole took my hand, and we scooted past Max and Bobby.

  Bobby obviously noticed Cole’s sense of urgency. “Is Rodeo a buddy of yours?”

  “Sure is.” Cole hit the steps at a jog. I trotted down along next to him. The medics were still on the course, and Rodeo was stretched out at the base of the dirt hill. One medic was leaned down talking to him, while another was checking his limbs for movement and feeling.

  Denver was standing at the entrance to the pits, holding a tablet. “Our boy just got his bell rung.”

  Cole was more relaxed, and seeing Denver seemed to further ease his tension. “Sure did. What do you think, doc?”

  “Looked to me like the only thing that hit the ground was his head, and we know that’s full of rubber. I think some aspirin and some sympathy from one or more of the hot girls in his contact list and he’ll be up, around and as annoying as hell like always.”

  They were both making light of it now, but I’d seen the looks on both their faces just seconds before. They’d been worried about their friend. Another round of applause signaled that the injured rider was up and walking off the course on his own, with the medics following close at his heels.

  “Let’s go wait under the awning,” Denver suggested. “I’ve got some drinks in an ice chest. Kensington looks like she could use one. They’ll have to give Rodeo a thorough once over to make sure all the marbles are still in place, so it’ll be awhile.”

  Cole and I followed Denver back to the pits where his team had an awning set up for shade. “I take it his competition is over for the day,” I said. “Since he was knocked out and all. We can’t get back on the horse if we’ve blacked out. Or is it different with motorcycle contests?”

  “Nah, he’s done for the day,” Cole said. “And he’ll be plenty grumpy about it too. Rodeo’s just the type of rider who wants to jump back on the bike and try it again to fix what he did wrong.”

  Denver handed Cole and me each a water bottle. “Yeah. Cole, remember that time when he broke his wrist so badly, his hand didn’t even look like it was attached to his arm, and he got back on to do the practice course again.” Denver shook his head.

  Cole took a sip of water. “He has way more balls than sense. Figure that came from being bounced around on the saddle too much.”

  A motorcycle was being rolled into the pits.

  “Here comes his bike,” Denver said. “Doesn’t look too bent up.”

  The awning provided a great reprieve from the insistent sun. The temperatures had climbed to the nineties, and there were no clouds to provide intermittent relief. Cole and I sat in the chairs while Denver headed over to talk to Rodeo’s mechanic.

  Cole reached over, took hold of my hand and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. He was expert at small, unobtrusive gestures of affection that kept my heart fluttering. While sometimes romantic gestures could seem forced or smarmy, Cole’s always seemed genuine. He’d grown up in a lifestyle that was, no doubt, completely unlike most guys, but he never acted like an arrogant asshole. And after the short, unpleasant conversation with Nate, I greatly appreciated that.

  “I was thinking we could drive to the coast tonight and have a little repeat of our first date at the beach house. Preferably with some kinky variations added in.”

  “Kinky variations, you say? Oh shoot.”

  “Or not. Doesn’t have to be kinky. Just fun.”

  “No, it’s not the kinky suggestion,” I laughed. “Can’t believe I just said that.” I looked pointedly at Cole. “You are one of those boys my mom always warned me about, Mr. King. That’s probably why I like you so much.” He had on dark sunglasses to hide his great hazel eyes, but the rest of his face was so damn handsome it made me want to give him a little pinch to see if he was real. “Anyhow, the farrier is coming to shoe my horses tonight. It’s really hard to reschedule with him. He’s in high demand.”

  “I know what that’s like.” Cole sat forward. His tattoos twisted as he stretched his muscular arms in front of him. “We don’t have to drive out to the beach. We could hang around town. I’ll come by your place around six.”

  “That should work.”

  Denver headed toward us. A decidedly less amped up Rodeo was walking next to him. He had on his black sunglasses and fitted hat. All his protective gear had been removed, and his dirt stained shirt hung loose around his shoulders.

  Cole and I stood up to greet him.

  “Bro,” Cole called to him. “You’re among the living. I’m glad cuz it’s your week to mow the fucking lawn.”

  Rodeo stuck his middle finger up at him. He marched past us and plunked down in a chair.

  “Would you like a water from the ice chest?” I asked.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Why so grumpy?” Cole asked. “You didn’t think you’d still be competing today, did you?”

  “Why the fuck not?” Rodeo asked. “The bike’s fine.”

  Denver walked over and sat on the ice chest. “Yeah, but you’re head isn’t.”

  “How is that different from any other fucking day?” Rodeo sank down farther in the chair like a sulking teenager.

  Cole looked at Denver. “He has a point.”

  Rodeo sat up and forward now. He was angry and disappointed but the medics had, no doubt, made the right call.

  “Shit, you know how many times I got bucked off a colt and woke up five minutes later to climb right back on. Didn’t have any monster sized helmet on either. Just my black Stetson. Maybe it’s time to head back to Montana where they’re not a bunch of fucking worry warts.”

  “Don’t know what to say, bro,” Cole took on a more sympathetic tone. “Guess you just need to rant and get the steam out of your engine. We’ve all gotten hurt out there on the track. It sucks, but you’ll get past it. There’ll be more contests.”

  “I’ve got to get my gear on for my next run.” Denver patted Rodeo’s shoulder. “If you’re up for it, we can head over to Nick’s Saloon later. A few beers and some heavy flirting will take off the edge.”

  “Hey, Denver from Boston,” Cole called as he walked away. Denver looked back at him.

  Cole lifted his chin. “Give gravity the finger for us out there.”

  Denver nodded and walked toward his bike.

  Chapter 22

  Kensington

  The farrier’s truck rolled out of the gate. I grabbed the broom to sweep up the hoof filings he’d left behind. He’d taken longer than I’d expected, and I had only a few minutes to shower and get ready for Cole to pick me up. I’d been with him most of the day, and I couldn’t believe how excited I was at the prospect of seeing him again. If all had been going along like my usual dating history, I should have already been bored, or turned off or irritated by him. But I wasn’t. Not in the slightest. The opposite in fact. The more time I spent with him, the more I liked him. A first in my rather pathetic dating life.

  A chorus of low, content horse snorts followed me as I carried the broom back to its rack on the barn wall. Deep voices rumbled just outside of the stables. I recognized my dad’s laugh. He stepped into the breezeway, and Cole stepped in behind him.

  “Dad, I thought you and Mom had already left.” I’d planned to be showered and dressed and parent free by the time Cole came to pick me up. I had only briefly introduced him to them once. Mom wasn’t great at hiding her opinion of people, and since Cole didn’t look anything like her idea of the perfect, polite and proper son-in-law, I expected her to show her obvious distaste and embarrass the heck out of me.

  “We were just on our way out the door when this nice young man came walking up the front steps. You don’t bring Cole around enough, Ke
nsie.”

  Cole grinned. “Yes, Kensie, John and I were just talking about a golf day. My dad plays a little golf too. Of course a few of the country clubs have him blacklisted.”

  Dad bellowed out a loud laugh.

  I was slightly speechless. “Uh, where’s Mom?”

  Dad knew exactly why I was asking. “Your mom is waiting for me. I wanted to make sure Cole found his way out to the barn all right.”

  The massive red barn would, of course, have been impossible to miss. But I knew my dad well enough to know that he was having a good time teasing me with this.

  “Well thanks, Dad. Have a good time with Mom.” I walked him out of the barn. “Was Mom civil?” I whispered from the side of my mouth.

  “Like a blushing schoolgirl. Your mom was quite the Nicky King fan in her day.”

  “I did not know that. I just can’t match a rock and roll groupie with the woman standing in our house in her austere pumps and fitted Chanel suit.”

  “She had some fun days. You know, before she became that Chanel suit lady.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Have fun tonight.” He looked into the barn and waved. “We’ll talk soon about golf, Cole.”

  “Looking forward, sir.”

  “I like him.” Dad winked at me and returned to the house.

  I walked back into the breezeway. “I just need to close up my office.” As I went to sidle past Cole, his arm shot out and he pulled me to him.

  “Thought we’d never be alone today.” His mouth covered mine for a long, deep kiss. Like always, I became putty in his arms. My body sank against his, and I reveled in his body heat, his soapy scent, his touch.

  “Exactly where is this office you mentioned. I’ve always had a fantasy about an office desk and a hot executive with a pencil behind her ear and high heel shoes clacking against an office tile floor.”

  I leaned back and peered up at him. “You’ve been watching porn, haven’t you?”

  He lifted his hands. “Guilty as charged. But it’s been awhile.”

  “Right. Awhile.” I stepped out of his reach. He plodded behind me to the tack room slash office at the back of the barn.

  “What can I say? My dad has the largest and most impressive porn collection on the west coast.”

  I glanced back over my shoulder at him. “Source of family pride? And how do you know it’s the most impressive?”

  He shrugged. “Because he’s Nicky King. Who would have a better collection than him?”

  “Point taken.” I stepped inside the office and waved my hand around with a flourish. “Not exactly sexy. And as you can see, the desk is hardly big enough for my stuff, let alone for a satisfying round of sex.”

  Cole stood in the center of my shabby office, looking rather large and intimidating in the small square space. He glanced around. “I don’t know. Looks pretty sexy to me.” He walked over to the wall with the saddles and tack and smoothed his fingers along a pair of reins. He breathed in deeply. “Something about all these straps and chains and that overwhelming scent of leather is kind of turning me on.” He walked back over to the desk and gazed at me in that way that always made me feel as if I’d forgotten to button my blouse. “Of course, you could be standing in the center of a morgue, and I’d be sporting a hard on.”

  “You had me at leather but lost me at morgue.” I walked to the front of the desk and leaned against it.

  He crossed the room, and without touching me, managed to stand close enough to make every fiber in my body react to his nearness. I could feel my heart tumbling against my ribcage as it once again rushed to keep pace with my erratic pulse. Cole affected me profoundly, both physically and mentally.

  Discretely, he reached for my hand. “Waiting for one of those long words that makes me extra hot for you. I think some highbrow vocabulary will work well with my office fantasy.”

  “You mean like—I tend to be too loquacious.”

  “Yeah, that’s it, baby. Can’t pronounce it, but it sounds very fucking erotic.” His arm wrapped around my back and our bodies pressed together. His erection strained behind the fly of his jeans.

  I smiled up at him. “It means I talk too much.”

  “See, that works.” He reached up and his callused thumb snagged my bottom lip and dragged it down a bit. “To me, anything that involves this mouth is erotic.”

  I snuggled harder against him. “Proving that you can make anything dirty if you just put your slightly warped one-track mind to it.”

  “Guilty as charged.” He reached down to my pants and unbuttoned them. “Now take off those boots and these jeans.”

  I leaned against the desk and yanked off my boots.

  “Just in case we’ve got any snoopy, tattle tale horses out there.” He walked over, slid the door shut and turned back to me as I slid off my jeans.

  “Tattle tale horses?” I asked suddenly feeling a little nervous and completely excited about his office fantasy.

  “When you’ve lived long enough with Some Pig, you begin to realize that the animals are far more cunning than first thought.”

  He returned to his spot right in front of me and pushed my panties down with one finger. I stepped free of them. The slightly stifling air in what was no more than a box stall added to the heady feeling his hungry gaze was stirring up. He fished a condom from his pocket and dropped it on the edge of the desk.

  Without touching me, he reached past me and pushed some of my desk clutter out of the way. My stapler clattered to the floor.

  “Oops,” he said, before grabbing my waist and hoisting me up onto the desk.

  I leaned back on my hands as he lifted my feet onto the top. My knees dropped open, inviting him to touch me. Which he did. His fingers slid into my hot wet pussy as he leaned forward to kiss me.

  “Warned you, baby,” he grunted, “I’ll never have enough of you.”

  He fumbled open his jeans with his spare hand and pushed them down below his hips. I braced my hands on the desk behind me, as he coaxed me close to climax with his probing fingers.

  “Damn, I can’t hold out any longer.” He grabbed the condom.

  I watched with impatience as he rolled it on. “If this becomes a sure thing, then we can talk about going condom free.” It was something I’d never said to anyone. He paused and I worried that I’d just scared him off with the mention of a sure thing.

  Instead, he pulled my legs so that my bottom was hanging off the edge of the desk. He stared at me with a heavy heated gaze as he slid slowly inside of me. “Far as I’m fucking concerned, baby, this is a sure thing.” He pushed in farther. I held my breath at the feel of him entering me with such slow, delicious precision.

  I kept my hands braced on the desk and wrapped my legs around him. He rocked against me as he reached down between our bodies to stroke my clit. It took him only seconds to bring me to a shuddering orgasm. My arms wobbled beneath me as I held my body against his thrusts.

  My head was still spinning from coming. The feel of him bringing himself to climax inside of me made my eyes ache with tears. I was overwhelmed with it all. All I could think was that this all felt so right. Maybe I’d finally found the man who wouldn’t disappoint me.

  Chapter 23

  Cole

  A few of us stood by on our bikes, suited up and ready to race, waiting for the massive water truck to waddle its way around the track. A long, dry summer had squeezed every last bit of green out of the surrounding chaparral landscape. An early fall rainstorm midweek had blown through and carved some new ruts in the track. I’d been spending so much of my time practicing freestyle jumps, I hadn’t been out to ride in months. I was going to feel it at the end of the day. A day riding motocross wrung out every muscle and took all my energy. It was definitely one of the most taxing sports. The pros were some of the toughest athl
etes in the world.

  As we waited for the water truck to rumble down the final stretch of track, a shiny red and blue truck pulled in. I hadn’t seen the guy ride out here in a long time, but the logos and colors assured me it was Nate Harkin coming to grace us amateurs with his presence.

  I glanced back toward my truck. Kensington had driven out to meet me after she’d worked her horse. She was sitting on a chair under a tree reading a book. She hadn’t noticed the truck pulling in. Not that it mattered to me. Harkin could ride all he wanted out here as long as he left Kensington alone. Her reaction to seeing him at the freestyle contest had assured me that she was completely done with the guy.

  The water truck lumbered off the track. Dust control was a major problem with the Southern California tracks, one of the few places in the states where we could ride all year. I hadn’t been out on the track for a few months, so it took me two good laps to warm up and find my line.

  We’d been digging foundation ditches all week at work, and my arms were a little more wobbly than I liked. But after a few minutes, I was ready to grab some throttle and ride. On my third lap around, I saw Denver enter the track. He’d nailed second place in Saturday’s competition. But shit like that never went to his head. I knew he’d spent the night staring at his ceiling recalculating all his moves, trying to figure out how he’d failed by taking second. My other, less fortunate, roommate had not forgiven himself or the forces that be for taking him out in the first round. But the pain in his head had kept him low and sulky for the rest of the day. He came out to the track but said he still felt like shit. He hadn’t even suited up.

  I ignored the clutch and twisted the throttle as I flew off a jump, landing with a solid thud on the other side. There were plenty of riders out on the main track. Even the peewee track was busy. With the gnarly summer heat slowing up, it seemed all the moto riders were pulling their gear and bikes out for a day of fun.