Ride: Hearts Wild Series

by Allison Gatta

  Ride

  Allison Gatta

  Edited by

  Jennifer, Red Adept Editing

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Thanks so much for reading!

  Sneak Peek: Grind

  About the Author

  Also by Allison Gatta

  By AE Gatta

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Zoe Andrews fluffed the sprig of baby’s breath surrounding her sister’s gauzy white veil then stood back and sighed.

  It had taken almost a year to get to this day, and now that it was finally here, she felt like she had really accomplished something. Today, her flighty, fanciful sister was going to get married, and not to just anyone—to the most dependable, kindest bachelor in town.

  And—not that she was taking credit—but she had been the one to set them up in the first place.

  “How are you feeling?” She rubbed Quinn’s bare shoulder, careful not to brush against the sequined strap of her bridal gown. Zoe wasn’t sure if it was the white of her dress or simply the nerves of the day, but Quinn looked paler than usual—almost like she was about to faint. The rouge on her cheeks only helped to make her look that much more ghostly, and she clutched a flute of champagne like her life depended on it.

  “Where are the other bridesmaids?” Quinn asked.

  “They’re on their way. It’s sort of nice, just the two of us for now, though. Don’t you think? A real sisterly kind of moment.”

  Quinn nodded, drained her champagne in one swallow and then held the back of her hand to her mouth as she burped.

  “What’s the matter? Cold feet? You know Paul is—”

  Quinn shook her head.

  Zoe stayed her with a palm. “Your curls.” She fixed the elaborate nest beneath the veil, and Quinn pursed her lips.

  “Right. The curls,” Quinn said. “Well, no, I don’t have cold feet. I’m just thinking.”

  “About what?” Zoe pressed.

  Quinn blew a long breath out her nose. “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Lucky for you, I’m not the bride. You’re allowed to do anything you want today—including saying things I might not like. Have I been too overbearing? Is that it?”

  Quinn gazed at her in the mirror, letting the silence punctuate her question, and then she shook her head again.

  “Your curls,” Zoe insisted, giving them another fluff.

  Quinn pinched her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “I’m just upset that Ian isn’t here, okay?”

  This time, it was Zoe’s turn to be quiet.

  “Look, I said you weren’t going to like it.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” Zoe argued.

  “Exactly.” Quinn poured herself another glass of champagne, holding the glass directly over her wedding dress. Zoe reached out and grabbed the bottle and glass, moving them away from the white satin. When the glass was full, she handed it back to Quinn.

  “Worried about Ian?” Zoe asked, and when Quinn didn’t respond, she knew the answer. “He might still show,” Zoe told her, rubbing her shoulder.

  “I’m not so sure. He sounded pretty adamant when I talked to him a few days ago.”

  “And what’s up his butt this time?” Zoe arched a brow.

  Quinn sighed. “Well, he was really looking forward to seeing you.”

  Zoe grunted.

  “No, it’s just…” Quinn set down her full champagne flute then twisted her fingers in her lap. “We had a little bit of a fight the other day. He was really mad. He thinks I shouldn’t settle for Paul.”

  “Settle?” Zoe spat.

  “That’s what he said.” Quinn shrugged. “He thinks I’m going with the dependable option when I should be trying to find someone crazy, wild, and spontaneous. He thinks Paul is dimming my shine.”

  “You have enough shine for everyone in the church today combined. Nobody is worried about your shine,” Zoe said. “As usual, Ian doesn’t know anything, and he’s just saying this—”

  “Don’t say it—”

  “Because he’s jealous. He’s always been in love with you. You know that.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s not like that,” Quinn said. “He’s only my friend, and he wants what’s best for me.”

  “Well, I’m your older sister, and I want what’s best for you, too.”

  “But don’t you think he’s right, maybe? Don’t you think I should find someone who—I don’t know—ignites some serious, smoldering passion in me?” Quinn asked, brow furrowed. “I love Paul, I do, but I don’t know that it’s enough for a lifetime.”

  “Stability,” Zoe said, tucking another of Quinn’s blond curls into place. “Stability gets you through hardship, and that’s what marriage is about. Passion is fleeting. Besides, what does Ian know about love? He’s barely kept a girlfriend for longer than two weeks at a time.” Zoe rolled her eyes.

  The last time she’d seen Ian Prescott, his latest flavor-of-the-week’s sole ambition in life was to become a professional partygoer. It had even been on her business cards, for chrissakes.

  “You shouldn’t be so quick to judge him,” Quinn said. “People in glass houses and all…”

  Zoe narrowed her eyes. “I choose men selectively who happen not to work out. Ian throws blondes at the wall and sees what sticks.”

  Quinn sighed. “You have this image of him in your head that just isn’t right. If you would just listen to me—”

  “But I don’t have to listen to you. His actions speak louder than words. And speaking of actions, where is he today?” Zoe argued.

  Quinn looked as if Zoe had slapped her. Her face fell, and she stared at the floor, beaten. “All I’m saying is that you misunderstand him on purpose because of your stupid vendetta. You ought to give him a shot.”

  “No,” Zoe said. “Especially not now that he refused to come to your wedding. No way.”

  A gentle knock sounded on the rectory door, and Quinn yelled for them to come in. The florist edged into the room and nodded from Quinn to Zoe in turn. “We’ve just arrived, but we can’t sort out how you want to arrange the altar flowers.”

  “I’ve got it,” Zoe said. “Now, you relax. Everything is going to be great.”

  She smiled at her sister, giving her one last look before skirting from the door. It seemed impossible that only two years ago, Quinn had had rainbow-colored hair and a boyfriend who was known only as “Lobster.”

  Today, it was like she was a completely different woman altogether, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she used the same blond hair dye that Zoe herself used. No, it was that she’d gotten a steady job, even one using the teaching degree Zoe had slaved for years to pay for. She had a proper boyfriend with an actual name. And soon, they’d be in their own house, and Zoe would be free to start her own life knowing that Quinn would be well taken care of.

  With a satisfied sigh, she half-listened to the florist’s complaints then directed everything and everyone where they needed to go. Already, people were starting to wander into the chapel, all taking seats on their appointed sides of the church. All Quinn and Zoe’s work friends and distant relatives were here—all except one, that was.

  She searched the crowd again, looking for the telltale shaggy black hair of her least favorite person. He’d be at least half a head taller than everyone here, so there was no doubt he would have been easy t
o spot. Except he was nowhere to be found.

  Even when Quinn had told her that Ian wasn’t coming, Zoe hadn’t really believed it. Ever since she and Quinn had moved here, Ian had tagged along at Quinn’s side, encouraging all her misconduct. He’d even been the one to tell her to leave college and go on tour with Lobster and his band.

  In short, Zoe wasn’t going to be crying herself to sleep if Ian Prescott didn’t show.

  Or, at least she wouldn’t if not for the fact that Quinn would be heartbroken. And that, as far as Zoe was concerned, was just another nail in a long-hammered-shut coffin.

  After checking on Paul, though, Zoe held her head high and decided to try turning Quinn’s mind away from the fact that her best friend had bailed. She was going to ply her with mimosas, and when the music finally started, everything was going to be fine.

  Better than fine.

  Everything was going to be amazing.

  Not bothering to knock, she opened the bridal suite and found…

  Nothing. Nobody.

  Quinn was gone.

  Swiftly, she checked the bathroom, but it was empty—save, of course, for the open window, a tear of satin fabric hanging from the sill.

  “No, no, no, no, no.” She rushed back into the suite and dialed Quinn’s phone, but then the familiar Red Hot Chili Peppers ringtone sounded on a nearby table, and Zoe rushed toward it to find a note waiting for her.

  Zoe—

  I’m sorry. You can’t know how sorry I am, truly, but I can’t go through with this. I think there’s a reason I can’t forget what Ian said to me, and I think there’s also a reason why my heart doesn’t feel right today.

  I know I’ve put you in a terrible position, and I know it isn’t the first time, but I just need a few days to figure things out. Please tell Paul I love him and I’m sorry. Tell our family and friends the same.

  Please don’t try to find me, okay? I just need some time.

  Quinn

  Zoe blinked. This couldn’t be real. It wasn’t happening.

  After all the progress they’d made, after everything they’d been through, Quinn was leaving her. Again.

  She picked up her phone and dialed each of the bridesmaids, asking them to stop at Quinn’s school, her apartment, or any place she normally went in town. When she stepped from the chapel, it was to find that Quinn’s car had already gone, and somehow, nobody had seen a bride driving away from what now felt like the scene of a crime.

  Sucking in her cheeks, she prepared herself to tell everyone inside—including the groom—what had happened. And then?

  Then she was going to use Quinn’s phone to find the person responsible for all this and make him fix it.

  One

  Silently, Zoe cursed her sister for choosing what had to be the world’s least-practical heels for her bridesmaids. If she didn’t know better, she might have thought Quinn had chosen them as a joke or some weird way of getting back at her for an unknown offense. After all, the bright-pink sequined monstrosities were more suited for a Tampa strip club than a formal wedding. But then, it was Quinn who’d picked them.

  Gritting her teeth, Zoe struggled to operate the pedals of her car and then finally resolved to kick the shoes off altogether on the final stretch of her journey. It’d be better, easier, to make it where she was going without the heels sinking in the dirt or tripping her on the gravel.

  Then at last, she was there. A cloud of dust swam over the metal framework of the building, and huge yellow machines were pushing and pulling the earth to make room for whatever suburban convenience they were building. In front of her, a huge sign read “Construction Zone. Hard Hat Only. No Trespassing.”

  “Fat chance.” She practically spat the words, then she threw open the door of her sedan and marched toward the chain-link gate, making sure to hold her train of taffeta fabric aloft as she stepped over the mounds of orange-brown dirt.

  When she walked through the opening, a man rushed toward her, waving his hands frantically as if to stop her from proceeding. Rather than listening to whatever it was he was saying, she plucked the hard hat from his head and sat it on top of her nest of elaborate curls. He made to grab her arm, but she sprinted away, careful to avoid the little pockets of workers all around her.

  These were not the men she wanted. No, the man she was looking for would be taller than the rest, likely with a stupid, smug grin on his face. Knowing him, he wouldn’t be working half as hard as these guys seemed to be, either.

  “Ian!” She started shouting, but she could hardly hear her own voice above the roar of the machinery. As she continued on, she felt a little tug at the edge of her dress and looked down to find the taffeta gown stuck to an errant piece of wood, a nail tearing the shimmery, sheer fabric.

  “Frick,” she mumbled, but then pulled on the dress until it ripped before shouting again, “Ian!”

  Then, there he was.

  Whether it was because she’d been calling for him or because nearly every guy on the construction site had stopped what they were doing to get a load of the bridesmaid stomping through the dirt, she had no idea, but she didn’t much care either way.

  The second she saw him, the rage that had been building low in her gut since she’d read her sister’s note came surging up, up, up, practically ready to explode out of her.

  She wanted to run at him, to claw at his stupid face, but that would do nothing to fix the situation she was in. Instead, she had to walk toward him calmly and pretend like she was not, in fact, shaking with rage.

  Based on his expression, though, she had to guess she wasn’t doing a very good job. His thick, dark eyebrows were pulled together over his hazel eyes, and without saying a word, he handed his water bottle off to the man standing next to him before making his way toward her.

  “Zoe, you can’t be here,” he said.

  Inside, she knew the right thing to do was to be calm. She picture flowing, calm oceans, smiling babies, piles of doughnuts she could eat without gaining a pound. She even tried to close her eyes and meditate.

  But none of it worked.

  Instead, she said in short, clipped words, “Do not tell me where I can and can’t be.”

  Ian had the nerve to blink at her, the sheer audacity to act like she was the one who had to be answering for her actions right now.

  “But I’m serious. It’s not safe,” he said.

  “I don’t care.” Zoe shook her head, trying to put her priorities back in order. She should have expected this, anticipated that seeing Ian would rattle her to her core. After all, it was always like this with him, ever since they’d first met and he’d gone out of his way to make her life a living hell.

  “Maybe you should—” he started, but she cut him off.

  “Have you seen my sister?”

  His full lips parted slightly, and he looked around as if Quinn might appear from thin air. “What? No, of course not. Isn’t she…? I thought she’d be…?”

  “At her wedding?” Zoe crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, well, color us all surprised on that one, but she’s not.”

  “But then…” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his strong jaw twitching. “She’s okay, isn’t she? I mean, nothing could have happened to her on the way there?”

  “She was there. I helped her get into her dress and then… Look, I don’t need to give you all the details. All I know is that she’s gone and it’s your fault.”

  “My fault? How the hell is it my fault?”

  “So you’re going to stand here and tell me you didn’t go to the wedding because work got in the way?” She jutted her hip to the side and looked around the lot. Each of the guys had gone back to work, but since nobody had turned a single tool back on, she had to guess that they were most definitely eavesdropping.

  Fine, she thought ruefully, let them listen. Let them learn that their boss is a low-down, dirty piece of—

  “Quinn knows why I didn’t go,” he said simply, but apparently he’d noticed the crowd of
onlookers, too, because he caught her by the arm and started leading her back toward the chain-link fence. “Come on, let’s talk about this in private.”

  She struggled to break free of his grasp, but he was too strong for her, no matter how oddly gentle his touch was. “You ruined everything. She was all set. She was going to have a solid life. Why did you have to go and shove your big nose into everything?”

  When they’d finally reached her car, he released her, and she stroked the place his fingers had touched her, if only in hopes of making him feel guilty for manhandling her.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened?” he asked.

  “I already told you. Quinn—”

  He nodded. “Quinn left. But does she have her phone? Did she leave a note? Did you check her apartment?”

  “Of course I checked her apartment. She left her phone, though.” She pursed her lips then added, “And a note.”

  “What did the note say?”

  “What does it matter?” God, why were they wasting time like this? Every second they spent going over the finer points of Quinn’s disappearance was another second she was slipping farther and farther away, another second they couldn’t get back.

  “It matters. Now, what does it say?”

  Reluctantly, she pulled the note from the pocket of her dress and handed it to him. She waited as his eyes zoomed back and forth while he read Quinn’s words with what looked like a fierce kind of determination.

  When he’d finished reading, he handed the note back to her, his jaw set and tense again.

  “Well?” she prompted.

  “Well, it looks like she’s been perfectly clear. She wants time to think things over.” He shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  He turned away from her, but Zoe couldn’t hold herself back anymore. She flew at him, arms raised, and punched him square in the back.

  “Oh no, you don’t! You don’t get to just walk away and pretend you’re not the one who put all these doubts in her head to begin with. I’m going to find my sister, and you are going to help me.” She leveled him with a glare, but he only sighed.