by Melissa West
“Dead.”
He blew out a breath and glanced over at Nick, who gave a single nod. “All right. Bright Candy just foaled, and someone needs to get over there to make sure everything’s fine. I need to get to the races. Can you go?”
“Seriously?”
Trip shut his truck door and hung out the window, a smile breaking across his face. “Tell them I sent you. And try not to hook up with any of my staff before I get back.”
Alex laughed. “Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER THREE
Put him through his paces
“I still don’t understand why I had to pick you up way out here,” Kate said, eyeing the trees that surrounded Emery in the darkness. The fairway cut through the woods like a curving stream. Daddy had the small nine-hole course put in two years earlier in an attempt to teach Mama how to play golf without an audience. To this day, she still had never stepped foot on the course.
“I had no choice. Mr. Sampson is in the barn at the crack of dawn every morning. I couldn’t take the chance that he would see me leave so early.”
It was five a.m., the sun had yet to wake up, and the sounds of outside still resembled something out of a horror film. Which was Kate’s real problem. Despite being an adult, she still harbored terrifying illusions of getting attacked by a serial killer in the woods. It all went back to their horror-movie marathon in the third grade. They’d rented every one of the Friday the 13ths, and by the third movie, Kate had resigned herself to never going in the woods again—or to a hockey game.
Kate eyed the darkened depths around them again. “You realize that you’re twenty-five, right?”
“Do you? I mean, seriously, are you going to pee yourself out here? Should I go get you a change of clothes?”
Kate rolled her eyes. “First, stop changing the subject. And two, gross! I have never peed my pants in my—” At Emery’s expression, she stopped and pointed her finger at her friend. “You promised to never bring that up! It was seventh grade and I laughed too hard. It happens!”
Emery grinned. “Sure it does.” She placed her bag in the trunk of Kate’s Prius, hoping against hope that she found the courage to put on the riding boots she’d tucked inside. This was it, her one and only chance to convince Trip, to regain her family’s respect. Hell, to regain the entire racing world’s respect. Everything rested on this appointment.
“I’m sorry,” she said, slipping into the passenger seat. “I promise not to bring it up again starting now.”
“You just remember that I know your secrets too, little Emery Carlisle.”
Emery smiled. “That you do.” She felt bad asking Kate to drive, but she knew carsickness would find her friend if she rode instead of drove, and besides, she owed Emery for that cross-country stint in college, which had resulted in an empty gas tank and a three-mile hike in the desert out west to the nearest gas station. Needless to say, this was cake compared to that disaster.
Kate pulled off the side road, back onto the main highway that led to Triple Run. “I thought your meeting was at seven.”
“It is.”
Kate’s gaze shifted to Emery and then back to the road. “Um, am I missing something here? It’s five.”
“I figured we could hang out until then. Patty’s Place should be open by the time we get there. We can have fresh scones and coffee.”
“Patty’s? Are you insane?” She held up her right hand. “No, don’t answer that. I know you’re insane. Why else would you eat breakfast with your aunt’s nemesis and then meet with your first love?”
Emery jerked up like she’d been shocked. “What? I didn’t love him.”
“Ha! You loved him down to your toes, girl. Every bit as much as Annie-Jean hates Patty. She’ll crucify you if she finds out we ate there.”
Emery stared out her window, not willing to touch the love topic and hating how much it hurt to hear Kate say it. Never once had Emery said she loved Trip out loud, never once had she even allowed herself to think it. Feeling it, though? Well, feelings were their own animal, and hers refused to be tamed.
“Then we’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t find out.”
“Yeah, is that like making sure your daddy doesn’t find out about this meeting? Why don’t you just tell him, Em?”
“You know it’s complicated.”
And she did. Kate knew exactly how hard it was for Emery to stand up to her daddy, especially after the accident. She remembered her parents’ faces when they came into her hospital room after her second surgery. She had two broken ribs, a broken leg, and a face full of bruises. She was a destroyed woman, and she was their only child. Her mother had had countless miscarriages before Emery, so they viewed her as a blessing from God—a blessing they held clutched to their chests.
Emery didn’t even allow them to speak before she looked them in the eyes and simply said, “Please.” The room grew quiet then, but they knew exactly what she was asking—please don’t make her stop racing.
She had no idea then how deeply her fear would set in, how the animal that had once held a piece of her soul would cause her hands to shake so badly she couldn’t even grab the reins. Coming to Trip was a risk, in more ways than one. She just hoped it’d be worth it.
“All right, well, if Annie finds out, I wasn’t with you. She scares me when she’s mad.”
Emery laughed. “She scares everyone.”
They fell into a comfortable silence, switching from station to station, Emery’s nerves twisting around and around, doubt replacing Kate as her new best friend.
“Hey, Em?”
“Hmm?”
Kate cut her eyes over. “What was it like to talk to him again?”
Emery thought of his voice, the perfect combination of smooth and rough—all man, all confidence—and the hint of a smile lingering at the end of each word. Her heart beat in her chest, warmth spreading all around. “It was like a sunrise. All dark and then it just peeks up, and suddenly you’re nodding and smiling, because it was always there, hidden behind the night.”
Kate looked at her again. “Um . . . what was that?”
A laugh burst from Emery’s lips, and she tossed the ChapStick she’d been playing with at her friend. “Hell, I don’t know!”
“God, you’re in so much trouble.”
Emery sighed. “Don’t I know it.”
They drove through downtown Triple Run, all the streets cobblestone, the stop signs wooden and painted bright red and white. There were few cars on the road and the stores that lined the street were just beginning to open up. Emery eyed each of the stores, curious which ones Trip frequented the most—the hardware store, perhaps, or the diner, or maybe he was fond of Patty’s Place. Emery couldn’t blame him. Despite her aunt’s hatred, Patty was an amazing baker.
“Are you sure, like sure-sure about this?” Kate asked as she parked in an open space in front of Patty’s Place. The lights were on inside, a few of the tables already full, and then there stood Patty behind the counter, laughing and waving her hands around as she spoke, like she couldn’t keep them still if she tried.
Emery didn’t know exactly what had happened between her aunt and Patty, but she knew they’d been best friends all their lives, both women never married, and then suddenly Patty had moved to Triple Run and Annie-Jean never spoke kindly of her again. Though a part of her wanted to trust that her aunt had reasons for her hatred of Patty, another part of her knew Annie could be unreasonable. This whole fight could be over something trivial—like a recipe.
Regardless, the diner down the street still sat dark inside, which meant Patty’s was the only place they could go for a good cup of coffee, and Emery needed five if she hoped to survive this morning.
“Let’s go.”
She shut the car door and opened the door to the bakery, the smell of cinnamon and brown sugar hitting her nose. Patty’s gaze locked on Emery as soon as the door closed behind them. For a moment, Emery worried she might ask them to leave, but instead, she just look
ed sad.
The rest of the diners all peered over at Emery and Kate, seeming to recognize out-of-towners, and truthfully, if they knew Emery and Kate were from Crestler’s Key, their quizzical stares would turn downright mean. There had always been some animosity between the two towns, going back so long it was hard to remember where the issue had originated.
All Emery knew was that an article in the New York Times had called Crestler’s Key “Kentucky’s horse country.” Well, a week later, Triple Run changed their “Welcome to Triple Run” sign to read “Welcome to Triple Run, Kentucky’s horse country.” And that was that. Crestler’s Key’s mayor at the time had ordered Triple Run’s mayor to change the sign, but it was done, and then the Times article was forgotten and everyone in the racing world had started referring to Triple Run as horse country, driving that knife deeper into Crestler’s Key’s back.
All that was to say, Patty didn’t open her bakery in Triple Run by coincidence. It was an intentional slap in the face to Annie-Jean.
Emery motioned to a table by the window—making it also super-close to the door in case they had to dash out—and within a minute, Patty stood beside them, her hands on her hips, a tight smile on her overly made-up face.
“Good mornin’, ladies. What brings you to town?”
A hush fell over the small bakery, all eyes on Emery. Crap! She hadn’t thought through her reasons for being in town, what she would say. She couldn’t mention Trip or Hamilton Stables. Though she doubted anyone here would step foot in Crestler’s Key to tell her daddy about her visit, she couldn’t chance it.
“Oh, just passing through.”
Patty’s eyes narrowed, her white bob shaking, like even her hair didn’t believe Emery. “Driving through to where, honey? Atlanta’s the other way.”
“Oh, well . . .” She glanced hopefully at Kate, but her stare was locked on a guy by the counter, oblivious to the disaster happening at their table. “It was . . . You see . . .”
Just then, the guy walked over to their table, a grin on his face. “Well, hello there, Patty. You look lovely this morning.”
Patty laughed and swiped a hand through the air. “Oh, you are such a flirt. But I’ll take it.” She laughed again, and Emery turned in her chair, eyeing the door. Could she run without drawing attention?
The guy laughed, and Kate laughed harder, causing all eyes to turn to her. What are you doing? Emery mouthed, for her friend to just shrug and waggle her eyebrows, then nod toward the guy. Subtlety was so not Kate’s strong suit.
“Care to introduce me to your friends, Ms. Patty?” he asked.
For a second Emery thought Patty might say no, but then she plastered on that sugar smile of hers and motioned between them. “Alex Hamilton, this is Kate Littleton and Emery Carlisle.”
Alex Hamilton? Hamilton? No, no, no!
Alex’s gaze landed on Emery. “Right. I thought I recognized you. You’re here for—”
Emery jumped up and grabbed his arm, dragging him to the counter. “Yes! Thanks for the offer. I’ll take whatever you bought. Come show me.”
Alex tried to resist, but when Emery dug her nails into his forearm he screamed. “Damn, woman, what the hell did I do to you?” he asked as they reached the counter. “I didn’t think we’d been together before.” He cocked his head, studying her. “Have we?”
Emery glared at him. “No. What is wrong with you?”
“Me? You just assaulted me in the name of blueberry scones!”
Trying to calm herself down, Emery closed her eyes, but when she reopened them she found everyone in the bakery watching them. Gah! Why couldn’t she live in some massive city where people minded their own business?
“Look, no one knows I’m here today to talk with Trip. You can’t say anything.”
Alex’s brows lifted. “Oh . . . kay. And why is that again? Don’t you think people are going to notice if you start riding for Trip?”
“I don’t know. Yes? Maybe? But that isn’t happening today, see. We’re just talking. I’ve got time to . . .”
He grinned, and she thought maybe she didn’t like Trip’s brother all too much. “Come up with a lie?” He took in her expression and burst out laughing. “Damn, I’m right, aren’t I? First Trip went all crazy in the meeting about you, and then you’re keeping the whole thing a secret? What’s really going on between you and my brother?”
Emery had stopped listening at Trip went all crazy in the meeting about you. “What do you mean, he went crazy?”
“Ah, just all his decision. He’ll do whatever the hell he wants. All that shit.” Alex dipped down so he stood eye to eye with Emery. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re all worked up right now. Is there something going on?”
“No!” Emery glanced around and lowered her voice. “I mean, no. We’re just—we’re nothing. It’s just a meeting.”
Alex laughed again. “Yeah, you said that.”
Emery opened her mouth to tell Alex where he could shove that laugh when Patty came up, and Emery pleaded to Alex with her eyes to keep his mouth shut—or else she wasn’t against shoving those delicious blueberry scones down his throat.
“Everything okay over here?”
Alex smiled down at Emery, then flipped his crooked grin over to Patty. “Yes, Ms. Patty. Emery was just asking for directions to Lexington. She and her friend are going up there to that new antique shop. You heard about it, right?”
Antiquing? What? Emery was twenty-five. Twenty-five year olds didn’t go antiquing. Patty would never buy that. Stupid Hamilton brother.
But then Patty said, “Oh,” and her expression turned thoughtful. “No, I don’t think I have. I’ll have to check it out, too.”
Emery released a breath as Patty left them, and Alex leaned down, that annoying smirk still on his face. “I’ll tell Trip you’re on your way.” Then he glanced down at his forearms, to the tiny crescent moon–shaped indentations turning red. “And warn him to wear gloves.”
Trip awoke with a start, the remnants of a dream still clouding his mind. A certain woman. A table. A voice so full of intensity and want that it took his breath away. He groaned as he pushed out of bed, all evidence of just how involved the dream had been still showing in his boxers. Damn, how had Emery impacted him so fully after just one call? He blamed his current self-imposed drought. Racing season was upon them, and the last thing he needed was a clingy woman distracting him. He’d made a deal with himself—stay focused on his goal of having one of his horses win, place, or show in every major stakes, and he could celebrate with as many women as he liked.
The problem was, Trip wasn’t the many-women kind of guy. He hated the idea of commitment, but he also didn’t like the complications of dating around. He preferred to mix with one woman at a time, keep it fun and simple, then move on. At least, that had been his mantra throughout his twenties, but now that he was approaching thirty fast, he’d begun to wonder what he was doing with his life. Didn’t he want a wife to hold in his arms after a long day? Didn’t he want the quintessential two-point-five kids?
The truth was, he wanted what his parents had, but he’d met enough women to know that women his age had different interests—interests that began with dollar signs. He had only met one woman who possessed the core values he craved—a solid moral compass, unwavering passion, and a drive for more than what his money could buy. And that woman would be at his farm in an hour.
He thought of the last time he’d seen Emery. It had been two years ago in Saratoga, and she’d pretty much become the face of horse racing. An article had just been released in the New York Post—“Beauty & the beast, an inside look at racing’s newest champion”—and suddenly everyone was talking about Emery and whether she would take the Kentucky Derby. Back then, Trip had done little more than mock her as a marketing ploy, angry that she’d let them present her as a pretty face instead of the athlete she deserved. But one passing moment between them in the backside told him she didn’t care what he thought, didn’t care a
bout him. He was in her past.
If only he could tuck her away so easily. Instead, she filled his dreams with her long black hair, porcelain skin, and those damn blue eyes.
He turned on the shower at the thought and ran the water as cold as he could handle it in hopes of calming himself down. She would arrive soon, and he wanted to be on his game. He still wasn’t sure that he would actually hire her. After all, he had a reputation to consider, and Alex was right. There was talk that she hadn’t even gotten back on a horse. He figured the rumors were just that—rumors. But what if they were true? What was he getting himself in to?
Trip pushed out of his house and shut the door, only to turn around and spy his brother sitting in his golf cart, tapping the wheel to a song only he could hear.
“Howdy, brother,” Alex said, continuing his beat. “Thought I’d give you a ride over so we could talk about a few things.”
With hesitation, Trip slipped into the cart and immediately felt like an idiot. He hated being the passenger, hated handing over the controls to someone else. Alex managed to get all the way to the end of the driveway before Trip waved his hands. “Enough. Stop.”
The cart slammed to a halt and Alex peered around. “What? Did I hit something?”
“No; get out.”
“What?”
Trip walked around to the driver’s side of the cart. “Get out. I’m driving.”
“You’re serious.”
“Don’t I look serious? My cart, my rules. Get out.”
Alex shook his head and slid over, motioning dramatically toward the driver’s seat. “She’s all yours. And something tells me she’s not the only she.”
Trip stopped in midmotion to getting into the cart. “What did you say?”
It was six thirty in the morning, and already Trip felt like he was running late. He’d yet to have coffee, hadn’t taken the time to shave, and knew Clark would already have the morning workouts going. In short, he was in no mood to deal with his brother’s shit. He started down the driveway again, ignoring his brother’s stare.