Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3)

by Bev Pettersen

  She could hear the pounding of an ax, sharp and almost violent as it bit into the wood. Sounded like he was splitting a year’s supply of firewood.

  She wasn’t ready to face him yet so turned and stalked up the animal trail trying to manage her pain. She swiped her cheeks, angry at him but even more angry at herself. She wished she were home, wished he was gone, and she fervently wished she hadn't been so easy.

  Would he say anything at the track? Just the thought made her groan. Gary had cautioned her about stuff like this, had stressed how important it was to keep personal affairs separate. Be squeaky clean, he'd warned. A whiff of gossip could sink a jock.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to reassure herself. Kurt might consider himself a prize stud—he definitely knew his way around a woman's body—but he didn’t seem the type to blab. The real mystery was why he had targeted her.

  Had he planned this because he liked her or because he wanted a quick bang? He must be disappointed. It was a damn long way to ride for some shitty sex. She kicked a rock and kept walking.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kurt trudged back to the campsite with the axe in his hand and a load of wood balanced in his arms. Julie’s jeans and boots were gone, and so was she. He blew out a sigh and let the wood tumble to the ground. She hadn’t passed him which meant she’d followed the trail upcountry.

  He hoped she didn’t walk far, but she was mad, hurt and confused. Goddammit. He never would have touched her if he’d known how innocent she was. He cursed under his breath. He’d been taught to lie and misrepresent, and he was good at it, but when she’d looked at him with those luminous eyes, it had been impossible to lie. And then he’d hurt her worse.

  Cisco’s nostrils flared with pink as he stared up the narrow trail; no doubt he was tracking Julie too. Kurt glanced at Dusty, who was still head down in the grass, and continued up the path, reassured. As long as one horse was hungry, it was unlikely the other would wander far.

  Unlikely but possible.

  He checked his watch, resolving to return within twenty minutes. Some hobbled horses could cover a lot of ground, and Cisco was one of them.

  He walked fast, spurred by his ballooning guilt. Something moved, and he spotted Julie’s proud back. She was only twenty feet ahead, her steps hushed by the carpet of moss and lichen. He closed the gap but remained a polite distance back, giving her plenty of space. He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t been able to lie. Wasn’t yet certain of the best way to herd her back to the horses.

  His hope flared when the trail led into a meadow filled with flowers. This might cheer her up—pull her out of her funk much easier than his clumsy words. She loved spring; here it was, at its finest.

  Flowers dotted the grass. Snow lilies and paintbrush swayed in the breeze, creating a lush backdrop, their brightness exaggerated by the deep blue sky, the green mantle of grass, the scattering of bleached bones.

  He edged around a speckled alder, his eyes narrowing. Dirt and boulders had been thrown over the meadow, their moist brownness at odds with the vivid colors, like unexpected graffiti that warned of a gang presence.

  Snuffle, snuffle. His heart jerked in horror. A massive grizzly dug for lily bulbs only a stone’s throw away. Her shoulder hump shook as her long claws tore out clumps of ground. A cub mimicked her actions.

  Kurt forced his stiff legs to move. He reached for Julie, rooted to the ground. His clumsy hand grabbed hers, and together they backed away. But they were moving too slowly, breathing too loud. And then it was too late.

  The grizzly raised her head. She thrust herself up on hind legs, like a heavyweight fighter readying for battle. Dirt streaked her face, masking her eyes, as she sniffed the wind for their scent.

  “Don’t move.” Kurt’s tongue felt thick, his words ragged. He reached out and gripped Julie’s waist. “If she charges, I’ll distract her. Run for Cisco. Ride out for help.”

  “Don’t look in her eyes.” Julie’s voice was low and urgent.

  The bear’s growls deepened. She stretched higher. Her cub circled and scooted for the safety of the trees, jarring the air with his frantic bawls. Kurt scanned the meadow, desperate for a log, stick, anything. But the brilliance of the flowers mocked him. Far off, too far off, stood a stand of spruce.

  Fuck.

  Julie stood in front of him. So small, so innocent, and he was swept with a warrior's need to protect.

  “I’m not leaving,” she whispered. “I have—”

  The grizzly charged.

  He grabbed her waist and jammed her behind him. “Run!” he yelled, jerking back to face the bear.

  The grizzly’s head swung. Surely she wouldn't pass him to chase Julie? Panic galvanized him and he waved his arms, yelling with a voice like a stranger’s. The bear’s head turned, and her attention locked on him. Oh fuck, this wasn’t going to be fun.

  Every muscle tensed as he struggled to remember everything he knew about surviving a grizzly attack.

  The bear was deceptively fast. Fifteen feet away, she swerved and bolted in the direction of her bawling cub.

  Oh, God, thank you. Weak with relief, he wheeled, almost running over Julie who was frozen behind him. She hadn't followed his directions, had been too scared to move. Understandable. Adrenaline had a weird effect.

  He slung her over his shoulder and rushed down the trail, ignoring the prickling of his neck and the compulsion to glance back every second stride.

  Cisco’s ears pricked as Kurt rushed past with Julie mute in his arms, but the horse turned his attention back to the grass. The pounding in Kurt's chest eased. Cisco’s behavior confirmed the bear wasn’t following.

  He wrapped Julie in the blanket—her cheeks so colorless her green eyes were a vivid slash. Knew he looked as shaken. The mountains loomed around them, heightening his sense of insignificance. He lit a fire, craving its ageless comfort.

  “We're okay now.” He lifted her onto his lap and rubbed her stiff arms.

  “Some guide I am.” She managed a shaky smile. Her hands were fisted, and she clutched a small red can in her fingers.

  “What’s this?” He pried opened her fist. “Bear spray?” His voice thickened as he scanned the label on the canister. She hadn’t run at all. He should have known she had too much gumption to run. She’d had his back—and he couldn’t have asked more from any partner. “You always carry that mini-can in your pocket?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and gave a shivery nod. “A promise to Dad. Did you see the size of her claws?”

  “Those claws are miles away now.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I should have paid more attention to Cisco. I think he smelled her earlier.”

  She tilted her head, breath still shaky. “You realize you just stared down a charging grizzly?”

  “So did you, Julie,” he said.

  Their eyes locked in mutual respect, and he impulsively leaned down and kissed her mouth. Kept it quick but she tasted good, too damn good, and he dragged his head away, and pressed his face into her silky hair.

  “Thank you, God,” he muttered, feeling achingly alive. She was fine, he was fine, life was fine, and every one of his senses pulsed with gratitude. A squirrel scolded from a pine tree, a hawk circled lazily. Her lips stroked his throat

  “You're so warm,” she whispered.

  He didn’t move, could barely breathe as she continued a slow exploration with her mouth. Up his neck, under his jaw, the side of his throat. Her breasts, her hip, every feminine curve pressed into him, seeming to scald his skin. He clenched his jaw, heard his teeth grind.

  She dipped her head, tracing slow circles on his chest with her fingers, and his whole body jerked to attention, waiting on her mouth, her touch.

  He trapped her hands, his voice ragged. “You better stop.”

  “I don’t want to stop.” She pulled away and continued her slow torture.

  He didn’t move, kept his hands clenched at his side, but his pulse beat erratically and his j
aw throbbed. Her mouth was all over him now, hitting every sensitive spot, and it felt so good it hurt.

  “Stop acting like a statue.” She gave him an impatient nip.

  “I just want you to be sure.” Christ, he couldn’t believe that was him talking.

  “Do I strike you as someone not sure?” She pulled off her shirt. Then reached down and tugged her boots off, tossing them aside with two quick thuds.

  He groaned and tugged her to him, cradling her face, devouring her mouth with primal hunger and then it was impossible to get close enough, to touch her enough. He hauled her jeans down, removing them with single-minded desperation.

  The skin on her stomach was soft and warm, even warmer between her legs but when her breath caught, he froze.

  “It’s okay,” she said, gripping his shoulders and tugging his shirt off. She pressed her mouth back against his, but it felt like she was trying a little too hard, and he knew he should stop. Shoved away the thought.

  He forced himself to linger, caressing her with his finger, rhythmic and insistent until she arched against him.

  The zipper on his jeans stuck and he yanked at it, then ripped open a condom and rolled it on. Curved an arm under her hips and slowly, carefully, guided himself in. Her eyes clung to his, and he didn’t know what he was saying, but he didn’t stop murmuring assurances, didn’t stop kissing her precious face.

  She deserved more time but when she impatiently arched her hips, his control shattered. He pulled her legs around his thighs and deepened his thrusts. She matched his passion, rising to meet each stroke.

  She was hot, tight and wonderfully responsive. Little noises escaped her throat, and he gasped and strained until her walls convulsed around him. Seconds later, he burst inside. Shuddered and collapsed with barely enough strength to roll over and pull her on top.

  He closed his eyes, spent and content. Her hand caressed his damp chest and he held her tight, wanting to stay lodged inside. Maybe have a quick nap.

  “Now I know why people think so highly of sex,” she whispered.

  He pried his eyes open. Her head was on his chest, her face relaxed and dreamy. “It’s not always this good,” he said. Always good but not this good. He closed his eyes again, hoping she’d stop talking.

  “Why not?” she asked. “If both people…take their time.”

  He cracked his eyes open, accepting that a nap wasn’t going to happen. It was always a mystery why women turned chatty afterwards, and he only wanted to sleep. “You didn’t like sex with your boyfriend,” he said, feeling slightly smug.

  She wrinkled her nose and looked skeptical. “Joey and I were both young. And guilt about Mom didn’t help. It bothered Joey too.”

  “You know what,” he held her hips in place, feeling a surge of resentment for the unknown Joey. “We don’t need to talk about this stuff.” History was history. He didn’t want to hear about her old boyfriend. About what they did or didn’t do. “Just accept that sex would be no good with anyone else,” he added, giving her a teasing squeeze.

  “Or maybe it would be better.”

  “Don't be cruel,” he said. This type of conversation was always best avoided and besides, he was more interested in her sleek curves. He palmed her breast, keeping her impaled as he skimmed a finger over each nipple, leisurely admiring her sleek body now that the rush was over.

  Amazingly though, he felt himself harden. “Don’t wiggle,” he said.

  She smiled. And squeezed again.

  “Goddamn,” he breathed. There was no danger of him slipping out now. He'd never had anyone with such tight muscles. She licked lazily at his chest, sinuous as a cat, and he mumbled something but didn’t know what he was trying to say. Could feel himself swelling inside her.

  “You okay?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “Yeah,” he managed, his voice gruff. Her mouth skimmed his chest, and she continued doing that vise trick with her muscles, muscles incredibly toned from riding. Somehow he managed to keep breathing, to stay still, but it wasn’t easy.

  “Goddamn.” His voice trailed off to a croak as she tightened again, and he couldn't remain still any longer. He slid his hands around her hips and thrust. She flinched, and he stopped, guessing she was sore, but seconds later she squirmed in encouragement, her breasts beautifully accessible. And all his.

  He sighed in appreciation and drove upward, holding her hips, rocking her against him. Her fingers pinched his shoulders, and she whimpered. She's going to come again, he thought. Her sounds rose to a crescendo and he palmed her buttocks, holding her in place as her walls shuddered spasmodically around his grateful cock.

  She collapsed on him, boneless.

  “Damn,” he said. “You’re a fast learner. Little Joey was a fool.”

  She nipped his chest in rebuke but he liked the feel of her teeth—liked everything about her—and he chuckled as he adjusted her in the crook of his arms. “You're quite a woman, honey,” he said, pushing back a lock of hair and gently kissed her forehead.

  She lifted her head, eyes radiant, and the emotion that spilled across her face was unmistakable. Damn! He squeezed his eyes shut. So much for simple, uncomplicated sex.

  The tip of her finger twirled around some chest hair, tickling as it settled on a faded scar. “What’s this mark? Looks like a bullet hole.”

  He had a good hunting story he used in situations like this, but he was reluctant to shovel out any more lies. Not to her. “A shooting incident,” he said, his voice creaky as an abandoned swing.

  He felt her interest but kept his eyes closed. “It must have hurt,” was all she said. Her hand skimmed over the tattoo on his left arm. “Kind of a scary tat. You ride a bike?”

  “Used to,” he mumbled, thinking of the scum gangs and the things he’d done. The things he’d ridden. Anything to keep his cover.

  He grabbed her hand, feeling dirty and exposed. Vulnerable. But her warm lips continued exploring, and he didn’t want to stop that, not when they drifted down his ribs. She reached a knife scar, propped herself up on an elbow and stared in concern. “You need to take better care of yourself, Kurt. Or else find nicer friends. How did you get all the scars?”

  He opened his eyes but kept his face impassive. Personal questions were okay when he stuck to the script but for some reason he couldn’t lie to her, and that was a dangerous thing.

  “Guess you don't feel like talking,” she added. Her words were steady, but the hurt in her voice was unmistakable, and he felt like a shit.

  He stared at a hawk circling in the darkening sky, wishing he could escape so easily. Knew he had to shut her up before he blew everything. “Why would I feel like talking when there’s a naked woman on top of me?” he finally said. He forced a chuckle and even brushed her nipple with a lazy finger. “A naked, willing woman.”

  She flinched and even to him, the words sounded crude.

  “And you always accommodate willing women?”

  “Always,” he lied.

  “I see.” Her voice was small with just a hint of a quaver, but she rallied well. “Well, it's late. We better get out of here before the sun drops.” She disentangled herself and pulled away.

  Perfect, just what he wanted. But he felt mean and hollow with an empty hole where his heart should be.

  “I’ll get the horses.” He yanked his clothes on and strode across the meadow, not wanting to look at her pinched face any longer.

  It had to be done. Her feelings might be a little hurt, but even his relaxed code couldn't justify a relationship with someone so fresh and innocent. Not while he was in undercover mode.

  He stalked along the path. It had been a mistake to have sex; the kicker of it was he liked her, liked her a lot. He glanced over his shoulder, his steps slowing as he blew out a regretful sigh. Maybe he should admit what was going on. Let her decide if she wanted to spend time with him.

  He cursed and thrust aside that option. No, he couldn’t let anyone in again. Julie was too honest, too easy to r
ead. She'd slip up with her friends. Sandra was nobody’s fool, and neither was Bixton. His cover would be blown in half a day. And someone at that track was involved in Connor's murder.

  He bent down and unbuckled Cisco’s hobbles. The horse must have sensed his frustration and followed dutifully, not even trying to snatch grass when they detoured for Dusty.

  He led the horses back to the campsite and silently saddled. Julie was snuffing out the smoking fire and didn't look up. Had probably already written him off as a fuck-head.

  The realization made him yank the cinch so tight Cisco flatted his ears, indignant at the treatment, but Kurt flipped his stirrup down and scowled. No way around it. He had to keep his hands off Julie. See her at the track but keep it professional.

  Exactly what she’d wanted in the first place, and his guilt grew.

  He didn’t like the feeling and was determined to control it. Besides, keeping his distance wouldn’t be a problem. He already had everything she knew about Connor. He didn’t need her anymore. The knowledge didn’t make him feel a bit better, and he cursed as he led the horses toward her.

  The side of her neck was reddened, and her lower lip looked swollen. He blew out a regretful sigh. “Julie—”

  “You must be hungry,” she said, cutting him off. “Seems we missed lunch.” She tossed a granola bar across the chasm that separated them.

  He pocketed the food and tied on the saddlebags. They mounted and silently headed down the trail. He edged up beside her, but she raked him with such a contemptuous stare that he pulled Cisco behind and fell in line.

  A flinty wind chilled his neck as they rounded the ridge. He turned and glanced over Cisco’s rump. The sunshine had drained from the day, and the grassy spot where they’d lain was now shadowed. He sucked in an achy breath, knowing he was giving up something precious yet absolutely certain nothing could be done about it.