And here he was.
“No, who could top you as a partner?”
“I could say the same.”
“How long are you here for?”
Cameron squirmed a little. That was the million-dollar question. “I understand this place has a separate pool house apartment. I thought I might stay a while if you and Hunter are okay with that.”
“I’d love that.” Her face lit up in a radiant smile, the kind that came from deep down and tweaked at Cameron’s emotions and the heart he didn’t realize he had.
“Love what?” Hunter asked as he returned with a margarita and took a seat between his sister and his friend.
“I was hoping to stay in your pool house for a while.” Cameron slid his gaze to Hunter, who was watching him like a cat watches a mouse he’s chosen for his next plaything before he kills it. Cam smiled at Hunter, hoping like hell his buddy didn’t realize Cam had it bad for his sister.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Hunter said slowly.
“Oh, Hunter. Cam and I could continue our dance lessons. I would love it.”
Hunter was putty in his sister’s hands, that much was obvious. He gave Cam a death stare. “As long as that’s all there is to it.”
“What else would there be?” Even as Lilli said the words, her face colored a deep red.
“Nothing, just making certain.” Hunter stared so hard at Cameron he expected a hole to be bored through his chest with that laser gaze.
“We’re friends, that’s all.” Cameron took a sip of his drink. If that were the case, what was he doing here?
“Okaaay.” Hunter might not be on board with this, but he wasn’t going to deny his sister.
Cameron sat back and grinned, ignoring the suspicious glare Hunter cast in his direction.
Lilli stood and signaled to Charlie, who scrambled to be by her side. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m going to shower and change.”
“Good idea.” Hunter didn’t look at his sister but kept his eyes on Cameron, who was trying like hell not to gawk like a teenager at Lilli.
As soon as Lilli left, Hunter turned to him. “I thought you were in Hawaii? In fact, you posted a picture of you and several women on the beach. What the fuck are you doing here less than twenty-four hours later?”
Twenty-four? More like twelve, but Cameron kept that tidbit to himself.
“I missed you, honey.” He made kissing noises in Hunter’s direction.
Hunter wasn’t amused. “Are you after my sister?”
“I like her, but I’m not after her.” He met Hunter’s glare with a steady gaze.
“Keep it that way. She’s still recovering from Dickhead. She doesn’t need another dickhead in her life.”
“Who needs enemies with a friend like you?” Cameron tried to joke, but Hunter’s words hurt. He wasn’t a bad guy. Maybe a bit of a player, but basically a decent person.
Hunter didn’t budge on his stance. “Just keep your hands off her unless you’re dancing.”
“I will.”
“Good,” Hunter said smugly.
“I’ll get my suitcase and put it in the pool house.”
“It’s unlocked.”
Cameron stood, considered saying more, but decided against it. He didn’t have any intention of starting up a relationship with Hunter’s sister, and to belabor the point would only make Hunter more suspicious.
Now if Cameron could convince himself.
Chapter 15—In the Dust
Hunter worked out early with Cam each morning for the next week. After which he went to the track and attempted to avoid Kate. Mitch trained Sid with a few other horses in the barn rather than Kate’s. He’d been careful to separate the two horses following her rant.
Hunter hadn’t talked to her since, but he’d thought plenty about channeling all that fire into something more productive. He dragged Cam to the track with him every morning to keep himself out of trouble and Cam away from his sister. This particular morning, Cam begged off, claiming he had some errands to run.
Sid and Jet were slated to race at the beginning of March in the San Felipe, three short weeks from now. Hunter wondered if he should scratch his horse.
Sid wasn’t in his stall, so Hunter walked to the track. Mitch stood in his usual spot on the rail, deep in conversation with Kate. Hunter allowed himself the luxury of watching her without her knowing.
She wasn’t classically beautiful or even pretty, but she was striking. Her face wasn’t perfect. Her nose might be a little too long and her chin a little pointed, but he didn’t mind. Her dark hair was killer with those red streaks, and those eyes of hers could bring a man to his knees with one sultry glance. She may not think she was sexy, but Hunter thought she was.
Nothing he did distracted him from thinking about her. She was the first thing he thought of when he woke and the last thing he thought of when he fell asleep. She was driving him crazy in more ways than one, and he was damned tired of resisting. Today there was no one here to stop him. Not that Cam would’ve stopped him, but he’d been a deterrent nevertheless.
When Jet pounded past in an all-out run with a stablemate, Kate turned her attention back to the track, and Hunter’s attention slipped to her ass. He really loved that ass, loved the feel of it as he squeezed it while he slipped inside her, loved how her skin felt under his palms, and loved watching it as he thrust into her doggy style.
Shit.
Hunter wiped his brow. He was sweating even though a chill hung in the air. He needed a cold shower, or he needed to admit defeat and get Kate naked. He personally preferred the latter, assuming she was all in.
He’d vowed to stay away, but now he was changing the game plan and finding a different way to win. His defense couldn’t guard against her offense, and this was one game he no longer cared if he won. Maybe Lilli and his nana were right. Maybe there was something here worth exploring.
He leaned against the rail next to her and caught her quick glance in his direction. She immediately stiffened. He suppressed a smile, glad to know he got to her as much as she got to him.
“He looks good,” he commented as her colt cantered back toward them, barely breaking a sweat.
“He’s going to beat your horse in the San Felipe.” Her blue eyes narrowed with determination. Too bad her horse wasn’t as determined.
Hunter shrugged. “Anything is possible. How about a small wager?”
“What do you want to wager?” She never took her gaze off the track. Her attention now focused on Sid as he began to warm up next to a veteran gelding who ignored Sid’s antics for the most part. Sid bucked, reared, twisted in the air, and attempted to bolt, but Marco hung on, sitting quietly in the saddle as if he were on a pony ride in the park.
“Let me think about that.”
She nodded. “If you had a talk with Sid, it didn’t help.”
“He has his own mind.”
“He needs discipline.”
“Sid doesn’t do well with structure or discipline.”
“I’d hate to see you raising kids,” she muttered.
Hunter threw back his head and laughed.
“They’d be holy terrors.” She was trying her damnedest to get a rise out of him this morning.
“They’d be free to express their emotions,” he shot back.
She glared at him, he glared back, and the heat between them rose to levels that would burn out a small sun in record time.
“Go to dinner with me tonight.” He blurted out the invitation.
She stared at him, confusion in her gaze, lips pursed. He grinned, not regretting his hasty dinner invitation. She was so damn adorable when she tried to look stern.
“Dinner? You and me? Are you asking me out?”
He considered that for a moment and answered honestly. “I guess I am.” He laughed again, enjoying her discomfort. She was usually so calm.
She turned back to the track. Sid was rounding the far turn and galloping freely beside the gelding,
his rebellious streak tamed for the moment. He ran for the sheer joy of running, his hooves barely skimming the ground. When Sid ran like that, he was a Pegasus, a winged horse with a jet engine. She’d be hard-pressed to beat him.
“Yes,” she said.
Hunter blinked a few times, caught off guard by one simple word and certain he’d misunderstood her. “Yes, as in you’ll go to dinner with me?”
She nodded. “Yes, I’ll go to dinner with you.”
“Okay, then. I’ll pick you up at seven, but I’ll need your address.”
“Give me your phone.”
He did, and she entered her contact info into it.
“There you go.”
Together they refocused their attention on the track. Sid left his stablemate in the dust and tore down the backstretch toward them, racing by in a red chestnut whirl of speed and power. All around Hunter were exclamations of surprise and wonder as various bystanders checked stopwatches.
Hunter smiled. He didn’t need to check the time. He knew his horse had scorched the track.
Sid was back.
And so was Hunter.
* * * *
Kate dressed casually in a simple sundress. She had no idea where they were going, but knowing Hunter it wouldn’t be anywhere fancy. She expected him to pick a place that was eclectic, a little weird, and had good food in large quantities.
She wasn’t disappointed.
The place he’d chosen was tucked back in an alleyway and had a dozen or so tables, all of which were filled. The waiter/host/bartender led them to a small table on the patio. Bright-colored serapes, ponchos, and sombreros decorated every spare inch of the walls inside and out, not to mention every patron’s head. With a flourish, Hunter grabbed two of the brightest sombreros and placed one on her head, the other on his. He looked ridiculous in the large hat, and she had to laugh.
They sipped heavenly margaritas under a starless sky. A warm breeze ruffled Hunter’s dark hair and kept the night from being too cool. They made small talk as they munched on chips and salsa.
“I didn’t know this place existed.”
“Maybe you should get out of your rut more, try the out-of-the-ordinary.”
She was. She was trying him, and not just physically. She enjoyed his company and their lively banter. She liked matching wits with him. There was no place else she’d rather be than with him. That one simple truth hit her like a punch to the gut. Yet there it was. She’d missed him, and now she’d been granted a second chance. She planned to put it to good use.
The food was as good as the company, and Kate wolfed it down, making a pig of herself. Afterward, they relaxed on the patio with their second margaritas.
“When Sid decides to run, he’s close to unbeatable,” she admitted. “I’ve never seen a stride like that on a horse.”
“I know,” Hunter said smugly.
“Jet is more consistent.”
“Jet has no personality. It’s been trained out of him. I like my horses with a little spark left in them.”
“Jet is obedient, which, despite how you feel, is a good quality.”
“Maybe for a child’s pony,” he countered, but she caught the sparkle in his eyes. He was enjoying their discussion.
“You aren’t going to start in on a horse needing to enjoy its job, are you?” She gave him a playful punch in the arm. Grinning, he rubbed his arm as if she’d hurt him.
“Should I?” He’d left his long hair loose and pushed several strands behind his ear.
“No, we’ll never agree on that point. Horses deserve to be treated with kindness and respect, but they do not get to choose their professions.”
“My horses do.”
“Do you mean to tell me if Sid communicated to you that he’d rather be a trail horse, you’d retire him?”
“Probably.”
“But you have investors.”
He shrugged and leaned back in his chair.
“Why did you buy a racehorse?”
“My family has been into horse racing for a long time, but no Native American has won a huge-stakes race like the Kentucky Derby. I want that, not only for my investors, but for my tribe and all Natives in the United States. I want to show we can do anything we set our minds to, even win the most prestigious race in the country.”
“But you’d still withdraw him if he didn’t love to run.”
Hunter nodded. “Sid is an animal with his own personality and peculiar set of emotions and character traits. My investors would be disappointed, but they would understand. This has always been about the horse first, the races second.”
“Not to me, it isn’t. I can’t make it about the horse. I don’t have the luxury. I need to win.”
He raised a brow and eyed her with interest. “Why?”
“You would never understand.”
“You’d be shocked what I understand. Try me. I promise I’ll listen and won’t pass judgment.” He clasped his hands on the table and waited.
“You—listen and not judge? I find that hard to believe.” She softened her words with a smile.
“Try me.” Hunter frowned and his dark eyes flashed a hint of sadness or regret. She wasn’t sure, but she glimpsed vulnerability, too. Big, strong Hunter McCoy didn’t appear to have a vulnerable bone in his buff body. Or so she’d thought.
“I have to win the Derby. Time has run out. This is our last chance.”
His brow furrowed. “Why?”
“For over one hundred years, my family has bred some of the finest racehorses in America. We’ve won five Derbies, one Triple Crown, and ten Horses of the Year, among lots of other awards.”
“I know that.”
“My grandfather passed away over four years ago and left the farm to me. I was the only grandchild who showed any interest in the horse breeding and racing operation.”
“I fail to see your problem. Do you need the money?”
“No, not really. I mean money is tight, I won’t joke about that, but the farm is self-sustaining right now because of the breeding program and the stallions we stand at stud.”
“I’m still not understanding.” He scratched his chin and leaned forward, watching her with that inscrutable way he had.
“My grandfather’s will had a stipulation in it.” She swallowed hard, close to tearing up. Her grandfather’s lack of trust in her abilities still hurt.
“And that stipulation is?”
“That I win a Kentucky Derby within four years. This is my last chance.”
Hunter’s jaw clenched. “And Sid stands in your way.”
“It would appear so, assuming he has a good day.”
“And if you lose?”
“My brother and sister assume control of the farm, and I will own one-third. They’ve both made it clear what they want.”
“And that is?”
“To sell. It’s worth a huge amount of money to developers, more than it’s worth as a horse farm.”
Hunter nodded and rubbed his strong chin. “That’s happened to a lot of farmland in America. It’s important for you to maintain Oak Brook?”
“To me and my mother. My best memories were of my summers spent there with my grandfather and mother. It was the only place I truly felt at home. Unfortunately, my grandfather was old-school and didn’t believe a woman could run that farm on her own. He issued the challenge and gave me the tools to win. I have to win.”
Hunter’s gaze saw way too much. “There’s more to it than that.”
“No, that’s it.” She wasn’t telling him everything. She wouldn’t have his pity. Let him think she was a driven female bent on saving a family legacy, even if it was so much more than that.
He shook his head, reading her as always. His dark hair fell over one eye until he pushed it off his face.
Kate shifted in her chair, uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze. She needed to give him something, just not that. “I—I—my family. They see me as the underachiever. Poor little Kate can never do anything rig
ht. I can’t screw this up, too.”
“You shouldn’t worry about them. You should worry about how you feel about yourself.”
“I know.” She spoke in a whisper, but he heard her.
“What does Kate want?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve breezed through my life so far, not doing anything meaningful. I’ve been a bitch to people who’ve been nothing but nice to me. I’ve lived an entitled, sheltered life—just like you’ve said multiple times.”
“Then change that. Break out of your mold.” His eyes took on that same fevered expression he had when he talked football or horses. “What’s your passion?”
“Horses. They always have been and always will be.”
“Use the horses for more than your own pleasure. Use your love of them for something good. You mentioned a Thoroughbred rescue?”
“That’s all on hold until I find out what happens with the farm.”
“There are other farms. The money from Oak Brook could purchase such a farm and leave you with operating expenses for years to come.” Hunter slouched in his chair and watched her with a hooded gaze, as if trying to determine her worthiness. She’d had enough of that kind of scrutiny to last a lifetime, and his sudden attitude rubbed her the wrong way.
She glared at him. “I’m not selling out. You of all people should understand why I don’t want the farm destroyed by cookie-cutter houses. I want to continue our legacy. You’re being all judgy again.”
He sat up straight and flinched as if she’d struck him. “I am not judgy. I’m a very open and fair person.”
“Says you,” she shot back, congratulating herself on getting under his leather-thick skin and into his stubborn brain.
“I am.”
“Really? Is that why you assume all wealthy people are selfish, narcissistic snobs devoid of real problems?”
“I do not.”
“You do. And guess what, mister, you by most people’s standards are one of those wealthy snobs.”
“I wasn’t born with money.”
“And that makes you better than me?”
Game Changer: Seattle Steelheads Football (Game On in Seattle Book 7) Page 14