Throttled (Wild Riders #1)(4)
Guess he got what he wanted.
I tried not to be bitter when I heard anyone mention his name, and honestly, I hadn’t heard it very often. Sure, he was from Halstead, but it wasn’t like he ever came back around. He left and went on to bigger and better things. Our sweet little town clearly wasn’t big and shiny enough for him.
“I’m just glad that the place finally sold. It’s been in holding for a few years now. It will be nice to finally make some money off of it.” The people who had bought the property from the Travers’ hadn’t been able to keep up with their payments.
“Who am I delivering these to?” I’d asked when he handed me the title.
My boss had scratched his balding head. “You know, I’m not exactly sure. The paper work says RTR Incorporated. The purchase actually went through the bank. We’re just the middlemen at this point.”
I nodded my head absently as I took the papers from his hand before heading out into the warm late summer air.
The majority of the leaves on the trees that lined the narrow roads were still full and vibrant, but as I drove with my window down I could feel autumn coming. The change was in the air. The humidity was waning and the summer flowers had begun to wilt. It wouldn’t be long before the days were shorter and the leaves were a fiery palette of colors. I turned up the radio to my favorite country station and with the musical soundtrack blowing up my speakers, my peaceful country drive was complete.
As much as I hated to admit it, I had actually missed being out here. I’d always connected this place to bad memories, but as I drove through, I remembered a few of the good ones. Riding on the back of Reid’s bike was the first that came to mind. Making out on Reid’s bike came soon thereafter. To be young and in love again. No worries. No responsibilities. It was just me and him, and his bike, of course.
The bike was always there. I should have known he’d pick it over me one day.
I shook my head as if that could actually clear the nostalgia from it. That was the past. Reid Travers was my past and that was exactly where he could stay. I’d done all right for myself since he’d left. Graduated from college, received my Real Estate license, started dating one of Halstead’s most eligible bachelors. I was doing just fine without the bitter taste of Reid Travers’ name on my lips. I’d get these papers signed and I’d be back in Halstead and off memory lane in no time.
The music was suddenly cut off abruptly returning me to the here and now.
“Incoming call from Georgia Bennett,” the computerized voice of my car nearly gave me a heart attack. “Press Connect to accept.”
“Hey, sis,” I answered after turning the volume to a more suitable decibel.
“What are you doing?” Georgia asked carefully.
“Driving.”
“Are you on your hands’ free?”
“Yes, Georgia. I always use it when I’m in the car. You know that,” I reminded her. Georgia was a bit of worrywart, with good reason. Two years ago, her high school sweetheart turned fiancé was killed. He was on his first tour with the Army when it happened. Georgia still hadn’t recovered and the idea of losing other people she loved had become a serious and daily concern for her.
“Wear your seat belt. Eat right. Exercise. Lock your doors,” she was constantly barking orders at me and our parents to make sure we were healthy, safe, and responsible. God bless her for looking out for us, but I tried to remind her daily that we couldn’t predict the future. We couldn’t stop bad things from happening to good people.
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you to get home. I thought we had a sister date tonight?”
“Georgia, we live together. Isn’t every night a sister date?”
“No. Your stupid boyfriend usually interrupts.”
“He’s not stupid,” I defended. Beau Gregurich’s high school reputation had unfortunately stuck with my sister. He wasn’t always the nicest guy, but he’d changed just like I had. He was by no means perfect, but he had good qualities, even if my sister didn’t think so. He was attentive and sweet to me. My sister, on the other hand…he and she rarely saw eye to eye on anything.
“Fine, he’s not stupid but he better not show up tonight. It’s just you and me.”
“Got it. I’ll be home in about a half hour. I’ve got to drop some papers off for a client.”
“O—. Be—. See you—” Her response was a jumble of words that I could barely understand.
“I can’t hear you, G. The signal is terrible out here.”
“Where ar—” the call dropped.
I’d call her back on my way home. I had work to do. When I pulled onto the lane that led up to the meeting place, I saw a black Expedition pulling an Airstream trailer and a red pick-up truck pulling a large black enclosed trailer with silver lettering scrawled artistically down the side of it: Throttled Energy.
Had some energy drink manufacturer bought the property?
I parked my car behind the Airstream and took a look at myself in the rearview mirror. My hair was a tangled mess from driving with the windows down and I had a few tear streaks where apparently a few tears had leaked without my knowledge during my stroll down memory lane. I smoothed it out the best I could before securing it in a loose bun at the nape of my neck with a random elastic band I found in my cup holder. Then, I wiped away the tear stains and slicked on a coat of lip gloss.