by Anne Martin
“You’re quiet tonight,” Vicky said, giving me a smile that was sympathetic and sultry. It was a good look. She didn’t touch me, because I paid her, and not to do that.
“Reveling in the glory,” I said, flashing a smile before I drank my beer.
Did Trixie hate me touching other women? She’d shoved me away from her friend like she’d pushed me away from Kitten. She didn’t touch me when I flirted with females she didn’t feel some sort of protective instinct towards. Was I so bad that she had to protect her friends from me? She adored Nix and he wasn’t any worse than I was. Maybe it was his southern charm. I didn’t have that. I didn’t have his honesty, either.
He came from money, but he’d turned his back on it. I still ran a global conglomerate between matches. Nix was the fighter, the rebel. I was from both worlds and kept one foot in each. Why not? I needed more mental stimulation than organizing a team and focusing on the Vegas show world. Balancing both careers helped me stay sane. My therapist didn’t agree. He thought it was time for me to put my daddy issues to bed and unite my two identities. I didn’t hire him to lie to me, but I’d gotten my own doctorate in psychology, and my scores were so much higher than his. Fine. I’d probably say that to my clients if I had one as messed up as I was. My clients were unaware that I was their therapist. My teammates had become much more stable, so I knew that my methods weren’t incorrect. Mac was at a meeting instead of at the bar, higher than a kite. Vicky was dating a guy who had a job and wouldn’t treat her like her daddy treated her mother. What would I say to Trixie if I had her on my couch?
I couldn’t be objective with her. If she was on my couch, that’s where I’d be as well, either above or beneath her.
I saw her the next weekend in the hotel bar at a table drinking.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
“Burt, I’ll have what she’s having.” I stood there, openly ogling her. It took her a little while to notice and shoot me a deathly glare. Was she thinking about that kiss? Was it worse that I kissed her, or that she’d kissed me back? I shouldn’t have taken her without her permission. She shouldn’t have taken Patsy, either. Not that her theft justified mine.
“Ginger ale?”
That got my attention. I frowned at him. “That’s right. Exactly what I’m in the mood for.”
I stared at her and she shifted uneasily until Nix came in. He ordered a drink and they talked in low voices until she left. Nix gave me a nod before he threw back his drink and followed her.
Ginger ale. Flu for three weeks. Interesting.
The next morning she was at the hotel restaurant staring at a pile of syrupy pancakes and runny eggs. She looked too thin and hollowed out. I grabbed the waiter, Eddie, who had the enthusiasm of someone who trusted that he wouldn’t be a waiter for the rest of his life. Pity because he was really good at it.
“Bring me toast. Every five minutes a new plate of toast, and some tea and sautéed vegetables, hold the seasonings, and a cup of fruit. I didn’t order it. Send the bill to my room. Got it?”
He nodded even though I was being quite mysterious. He scuttled off and I took a seat at the table directly to her right. I laid out my napkin and sighed with great satisfaction.
When Eddie came out with the first plate, I winked at him.
“I didn’t order toast!” I said it nice and loud in case she wasn’t paying attention.
She shot me a glare, so it worked.
“Sorry, sir,” Eddie said, glancing at a blond on the opposite side of the restaurant. She met my eyes and smiled at me, looking me over appreciatively. “Compliments of the lady.”
He hurried off and left me with the toast.
“I’m doing keto,” I said loudly to myself.
“Who sends toast with compliments?” Trix muttered, glancing over at me.
“The lady. Apparently. Do you want it?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. She could get insulted. She might sick her Chihuahua on me.” Her voice was so mocking yet sexy.
“All right. I’ll just throw it away.” I knew that Trix always cleaned her plate.
She sighed and then got up, smiled seductively at the woman across the room, included a very slow wink, then lowered herself in the seat across from me. She took the toast and nibbled on the corner. “You’re a selfish, egocentric dick, right?”
I almost laughed. “I try.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Can I stop you? Only if you eat my toast. It’s so buttery yet crisp. I’m starting to feel like carbs might be a good idea. You know how I struggle to keep perfectly lean for the cameras.”
She gave me a flat look. “She’s pretty. You could work your carbs off with her. And no, I don’t follow your body issues. How many girls have you gotten pregnant, I mean, that you know of?”
I stared at her and shifted back a little bit. This was couch talk. “Well, Trixie, if you want to know my deep dark secrets, maybe we should go somewhere we can both get a little more comfortable.”
She stared at me flatly. “And here I thought you kept your womanizing out where anyone could see it. Why did I think I could have a serious conversation with you?”
She pushed to her feet. I covered her hand, holding her there. “Once. You want to be serious? My turn for a question. Have you been to a doctor yet? You look dehydrated.”
She blinked at me and grabbed a butter knife in the hand I wasn’t holding. This could escalate quickly. “I’m not…” She bit her bottom lip and then put the knife on the table and sank back into her seat. “Is it that obvious? Am I showing already?” She looked down at her effusive charms with a frown.
I glanced down her body, because that’s what I did, also I could still remember her softness against me in the elevator. I shook my head. I had to focus. “Ginger ale, three weeks out with the flu, all after a blatant play date with the blonde yuppy and Patsy. You look like the same old tough-as-nails Trixie in spite of the morning sickness. Still, you should watch out for dehydration.”
She studied me intently. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
I leaned back and studied her. What did she want? What would get her to lay down her defenses? “I don’t kiss and tell. I certainly don’t talk about other people’s adventures, at least not with a third party. I still think that you should have gone home with me instead of the tourist.”
She laughed and cocked her head, her hair falling over her face as she gave me her sexiest come-hither. It made my whole skin prickly. She could kiss me, or knee me, and I’d never know until it was too late. “You want to get drunk and stupid with me, to be the one knocking me up?”
I licked my lips. Oh yes. So much. “I like the edge. I like the extremities. I like kissing you and wrestling with you and being unmanned by you. You are exactly the kind of adventure I would love to not write home about. And think about the kind of kids we’d have. They’d be born with hair on their chests.”
She laughed and fingered her décolletage. “You’re inspiring, as always. Seriously though, does it bother you when girls tell you that you’re going to be a daddy?”
“You want to know if you should tell him? Do it. I’ve always thought it was incredibly unfair that men have no say in whether or not they keep their child. It’s right to tell a man so he can choose whether he wants to give her fiscal support or marry her.” Dang. I’d said that all crisp and clear, using my vocabulary like one of the yuppies she wasn’t supposed to go to bed with.
She glared at me, but her lips curled in a hard smile. “Really? You think that it should be all about you, having some mini-Horse out there with your genetics whether you’re interested in the woman or the child. Marriage? You actually think that any marriage between two people over a broken condom could last?” She shook her head and bit fiercely into her toast.
The image of Trix and blondie burned like acid in my stomach. I smiled at her, matching her hardness. “Broken condom? Did it malfunction or was he just that vigorous?
You’d think that you’d be on something to keep your lovers and the effects of such exploits private.”
Her eyes widened and there was something vulnerable in her eyes. Her voice was soft, hesitant. “You know the life, Horse. I wasn’t supposed to be able to conceive, not after the accident when I was seventeen. You know, getting blown up and rolling a truck fifteen times before crashing into a ravine isn’t good for reproductive organs. There was internal scarring.” She tugged on her ear lobe.
Shit. She’d been carrying that burden since she was seventeen? I wanted to pull her into my arms and give her a good long hug. She’d scoop out my heart with the butter knife. Maybe I’d do it anyway. All this couch talk made me want to hold her, protect her, reassure her. She was the only person in the world that I knew was absolutely true to her own personal code. She would be an exceptional mother.
“You’re going to keep it,” I said.
Her eyes widened. Her eyes had green in them, not bright green like the contacts she wore in recorded races. It was prettier like this beneath the masses of dark curls. Those were the same. Untamable.
“I…” She stayed quiet while Eddie came out with the veggies and fruits along with herbal tea for two.
I poured for her and pushed the plates over. I wasn’t sure what to say. We didn’t do personal and this was a lot from someone as closely guarded as her. It made me feel like I owed her something in return.
“I was seventeen when the girl, Michelle, she told me about the baby. I was terrified, but at the same time, it settled something inside me. Like for the first time, I had a responsibility that I couldn’t shirk. I had to step up and be a man. I thought we were going to get married, but…” I shook my head and gave her a wry smile. “She didn’t want to go through with it, not the marriage, not the…” I exhaled and tried to get my head together. This was too real, too raw. I grinned at her. “He looked like he had money. You need to tell the dick that he’s got to pay for his wandering semen.”
She winced then laughed. “Back to the whore-Horse we all love to hate. Oddly enough, I can kind of see it, you as a dad. Maybe you should do some therapy, try to get over it. There are plenty of fish in the sea and all that.” She sipped her tea and started eating with an appetite. Hopefully she’d keep it down.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” she mumbled.
“He asks you to marry him and you have to explain that your other lovers would never put up with that.” I winked at her, like I was one of them.
She gave me her own saucy smile. “That sounds almost pleasant.” She ran her hand over mine then swirled over my wrist and up my forearm. “The thing about me is that I don’t have time for the selfish demands of others. Doesn’t it ever bother you, the way that people are always touching you, pulling on you, needing you to give them what they want?” Her hand acted out the words, touching, pulling, digging her fingers into the muscles of my forearm almost painfully.
I shifted in my seat. Her hand actually reaching out to me made me ache. What did she need? Was Trixie lonely? She’d been paying attention to the way I touched people. It had to do with my mommy issues, but we’d done enough therapy for one session.
I wiggled my eyebrows. “Don’t tell me that you don’t have dozens of secret lovers. My worldview would never be the same.”
She rolled her eyes, polished off the rest of the food and then stood up. “Do you want to thank your friend for breakfast or should I? Those legs…” Her smile was dangerous.
I glanced over at the blonde then back at her. “Not the ones I want wrapped around me in an elevator. It had better be you.”
She glared at me. “You think I should thank her in an elevator? Really?” She was all tensed up all of a sudden. I couldn’t keep track of her mood.
I laughed. “No. I’d be jealous. I’m going to put her on my do-not-seduce list. How can I be with a woman who doesn’t respect my special diet?”
The tension left her shoulders. If I wasn’t wrong, Trixie was a possessive girl who liked her men monogamous. And I thought I was so good at reading people. I’d have to stop touching other women, and letting other women touch me. I could live with that.
She gave me a slight smile. “Thanks for the girl talk, Horse. I never thought I’d live to see the day. Next time I see you, it’ll be in my rearview mirror.”
I grinned at her. “Backseat? I like the way you think.”
She laughed and whirled away. I drank my tea and watched her voluptuous hips swing as she went. Eddie came over and started clearing. “You and Trix? Be careful. You screw her over and she’ll add your balls to her collection.”
I scoffed. “That’s a myth.”
He shook his head and kept working.
I smiled because if there was one thing I wanted, it was to be added to Trixie Dragon O’Hara’s collection, the one she kept.
Chapter 3
Trixie ‘Dragon’ O’Hara
Talking to Horse was surprisingly helpful. I’d been nervous to be around him after the elevator. I’d worried that he’d either declare his love for me or think that had changed our relationship in a meaningful way, like he could casually touch me and kiss me any time he liked or that I was now a booty-call.
He’d treated me exactly the same as always except for talking seriously in a way he never had before. Maybe he thought we were friends now, that we’d gotten the sexual tension out of the way and now could be associates who happened to work on opposing teams. Nix wasn’t going to be in the game forever. When he retired, I’d have to take over the team, let Dirk take over, or find someone else to race for. Horse was good. Very good, and if we could be friends, that would be convenient. The problem was that when he talked about the other woman, I’d had a visceral reaction, jealousy and rage at the idea of him in an elevator with someone else. Even hung-over, being kissed like that, with so much focus and intensity while his strong arms enveloped me, it was bewilderingly good. Mind-blowingly good. Addictively good. If he’d shown up at my door with his wink and some champagne, I’d probably have pulled him into my room and done something seriously unhygienic, at least in the days before I started feeling nauseous and exhausted all the time.
Hearing the man-whore’s opinion wouldn’t be worse than hearing the preppy businessman I’d taken on a truly epic drunken rampage. What I remembered of it was kind of hilarious, with the breaking into the golf course, hot wiring the golf carts, driving into the pond, and then lighting myself on fire when we tried to make Flaming Sambuca’s in his room afterwards. It was more or less a typical drunken spree for me, but I hadn’t had one for years. I was too old for this. I’d been angry, blaming Horse’s chest and his incredibly hot bike for all the uninhibited sex with Richard. I only knew his name because in the morning, I’d snapped pictures of his license and his face before I crept out. That was the New Yorker in me, paranoid, but I had the name and address of my fetuses’ daddy because of it.
I hadn’t been certain I would keep it until Horse had said the words out loud. His dark blue eyes had been so certain. He didn’t say it like it would be crazy for a girl like me to be a mother. If he could see it, then it was possible.
I took a deep breath and went to the window, pushing the curtain aside to stare out at the arid strip before I called the number I’d texted to my phone before I’d taken off.
He answered after a few rings. “This is a private number. Please put me on your do not call list.”
I took a deep breath but panic was making it kind of hard. I couldn’t tell him this over the phone. “I’ll be sure to do that. So sorry to disturb you, Blondie.”
“Wait! This is Las Vegas? How did you get this number?”
“Sorry. I didn’t realize it was private.”
He scoffed. “Was there something public about what we did together? I owe you a dress. What’s your address? I’ll be in Vegas again this weekend. Can we meet? Where do you work?”
He was so eager. It was almost like he’d enjoyed going on a drunken c
rime spree with me. What would it have been like with Horse? I shook my head. That wasn’t going to happen. It would be better if I told Richard the happy news to his face.
“Meet me for lunch. Saturday, Mimi’s café. Eleven?”
“Lunch? Of course. And then afterwards, we can get drinks.”
I wouldn’t be drinking for nine months. At least. It didn’t seem like drinking went very well with being a mother. Drunken sprees definitely didn’t. I was starting to panic again. “Lunch. After that, we’ll see.”
He laughed. “Sounds fair. Eleven, Mimi’s café. Do I get to know your name?”
I hesitated. I knew his name. I’d done my research and knew that he was a businessman who lived in upstate New York. I knew that he wasn’t married. Still, I didn’t have any idea about the kind of person he was.
“See you then.”
I hung up to the sound of him laughing. He probably thought that I was playing a tease. He didn’t know me. He thought I was a stripper with a streak of tough girl, but not really tough. He’d hot-wired the golf cart to impress me and it had taken him a long time. I‘d only lit myself on fire. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I needed to talk to Nix. I texted him. He’d talk to me in the warehouse after today’s practice.
He was talking to Jezabel about the timing of her exit from the truck while my backup, Oscar listened intently. He wasn’t a bad driver, he just wasn’t as experienced or instinctive as me.
I ran my hand over the side of my best beastie, murmuring apologies for letting Oscar take her rough over potholes.
“You wanted to talk?” Nix nodded at me as he unwrapped his hands. He looked good, not just in the usual way a well-put-together man looks. He looked happy. Being happily married to Kitten suited him. I never would have expected it.
“I’m pregnant.”
He stared at me, frozen in the act of unbandaging his hands. “What?”
I sighed. Horse had read my situation without the slightest effort. “I have a fetus in my stomach. Do you need me to give you the birds and bees talk, Nix?”