Throttled (Wild Riders #1)(36)

“What happens if Reid gets hurt?” she asked. I’d thought it, but I didn’t want to be the one to put those words into the universe. “Doesn’t he have a contract or something that says he can’t be...doing whatever it is he’s doing out there?”

“I would imagine,” I surmised. “But I highly doubt Reid is the one that gets hurt out there. Why would he keep pushing Beau to ride so hard? He knows that he’s the better rider.”

“Men.” She shrugged.

“Well, they’re both idiots.” We laughed, because that’s really all we could do.

Brett had finally had enough and waved a flag to indicate the final lap.

Thank God.

I waited for Reid to rocket off and leave Beau behind, but the strangest thing happened. Reid relaxed—not enough that anyone but me would notice, but he wasn’t full out riding. I knew the move. It was the same one he used when he was racing against his brother back in the day. He’d explained to me that sometimes Hoyt needed an ego boost. Sometimes he needed to let him win to keep him wanting to ride. I understood the move with Hoyt, but why in the world would he think Beau needed an ego boost?

Beau zipped past him and crossed the finish line. The wheelie he popped and rode across the straight away led me to believe that he actually believed he’d won that race fair and square.

Reid came to a stop and ripped off his helmet before tossing it to the dirt. He clenched his jaw and proceeded to put on a real good show. Everyone seemed to believe that he’d actually just lost to some amateur rider.

“Son of a bitch,” he yelled when he shut his bike off. He walked over toward us. Beau was pulling his bike to a stop. I looked at Georgia, wondering if she’d witnessed what I had, but she was oblivious.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she said. “He actually beat him.”

“Looks that way,” I replied. By the time Beau was off his bike, Reid was standing in front of us all.

“Good race, Gregurich,” Reid said reaching his hand out to shake Beau’s. “Off season has made me a little rusty.” He laughed and waited for Beau to shake his hand.

“Yeah, well maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” Beau snapped. “You can’t win all the time.”

“Beau,” I said, dropping my feet to the ground and standing up. “He said good job, the least you could do is say the same.”

“I can’t do that,” Beau said, walking over to wrap his arm around my waist. “I can’t because I beat him.” It had been years since I’d heard Beau Gregurich talk so venomously. He definitely hadn’t forgotten how to do it.

“You don’t have to be a dick,” I replied.

“It’s fine, Nora,” Reid interjected. “He beat me. Fair and square.”

Did he?

“Hear that, babe?” Beau leaned over and rested his chin on my shoulder. Between his bad attitude and his extreme closeness, I was having a hard time not telling him to go away. I felt Reid’s eyes on me, which only added to the uncomfortable situation I found myself in. “I beat him. Now, how about a kiss for the winner.”

“I guess.” I turned my face to Beau’s, ready to give him a quick peck before I shimmied out of his hold, but he didn’t let me. Instead, he used his free hand to hold my neck in place as he covered my mouth with his. The forcefulness of his kiss was alarming. For show, he dipped me back in his arms until the crowd of bystanders started cheering.

“Yeah!” he yelled out. When he finally broke his hold on me, my eyes found Reid who was the one person standing in front of me that wasn’t clapping or cheering for the winner. “Let’s get a drink!” Beau gave me one more kiss on the cheek, but the roar of the crowd, and the shock of his behavior, was too much. As soon as Beau let go of me, I walked away.

I had no idea where I was going when I walked away from the track. I’d started walking east when I knew the path back up to the road was west. Instead of finding my way back to town, I’d found myself walking a trail in the middle of the woods. Terrible logic on my part, especially considering it would be dark soon.

I could still hear the dirt bikes on the track—probably Beau taking another victory lap—so I figured I still had time to find my way back. I just needed to get away for a minute. I was upset and embarrassed and downright pissed at Beau for acting like such an ass. Not only was he a sore winner, he’d practically mauled me in front of everyone, and for what? To show how big and bad he was? By the time I’d walked off the urge to slap him, I found a fallen tree and took a seat. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, hoping that by the time I decided to go back to the track I was calm and able to think rationally again.

He was just excited. He let it go to his head. He’s not a bad guy. I continued to talk myself down until I heard the unmistakable shuffle of feet, the fallen leaves crunching with every step.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Reid teased.

“How’d you find me?” I asked, when I opened my eyes. He’d replaced his chest protector and racing shirt with a Reid Travers Racing T-shirt, but still had his pants and boots on. I couldn’t be sure if it was just a passing thought fueled by my frustration at my boyfriend, but he looked better than I remembered. And if the little bit of sweat and dirt weren’t enough to make him over the top sexy, he’d pulled on a ball cap backwards to cover his helmet hair. I wondered if he’d remembered exactly what that did to me?