Throttled (Wild Riders #1)(42)

“Thanks for answering the door by the way. Maybe I could have prepared myself a little better.”

“No way.” She laughed. “I saw Beau’s truck out the window and decided it was best if I stayed in my room. So, do you feel better?”

“I do. I feel bad for hurting him, but better because I don’t have to worry about leading him on anymore or doing something I’d regret. Like cheat on him.”

“Lucky for you, Reid wouldn’t let that happen,” she said, grabbing my hand and leading me over to the sofa. “He’s a good guy.”

“Omigod,” I said into a throw pillow I’d pulled on to my lap. “I acted like such an idiot last night. He’s probably never going to speak to me again. I threw myself at him. Asked him to be my—”

“Dirty little secret.”

“Yeah.”

“You filled me in on the ride home,” she explained. “Then spent a good hour trying to reason out what you were going to do.” She reached over and grabbed a wrinkled sheet of paper from the coffee table. “Here’s the pro’s and con’s list you made last night, in case you need reminding.” She held it up. The scribbles of a mad woman glared back at me from the paper.

“I’m never drinking again.” Bits and pieces of my conversation with Georgia the night before trickled into my brain as I grabbed the paper from her hand.

“This is your handwriting,” I pointed out the line that read: BEAU IS NOT YOUR SOULMATE.

“It is,” she confessed. “Just pointing out the obvious.”

“And you think Reid is? What makes you think so?”

“I see the way you look at each other,” she began. “I’ve been around for the duration, remember?” She had seen my ups and downs with Reid, so I had to give her some credibility. “He gets you. You get him. You laugh at the same stupid jokes. You have the same interests. I saw how excited you were to be at the track.”

“We have the same interests,” I argued. “Does that make us soulmates, too?”

“Of course. Soul sisters.” She laughed. “But seriously, Nora, he told me the other night that you were “it” for him. That he’s known since you were kids. I think you feel the same way.”

“I think I do, too.” I sighed. “What if he hurts me again, G? What if I follow my heart and it just leads me right back to being depressed and numb?”

“There’s a chance that that could happen,” she said. “But, there’s an even bigger chance that if you don’t at least try, you’re going to spend the rest of your life feeling the exact same way.” She was right. I’d been telling myself that I wasn’t miserable without him, that I had a good life, but the truth was, the last time I truly remembered being happy was with him.

“I’m supposed to be the big sister,” I told Georgia. “Why are you so much smarter than me?”

She shrugged. “Not smarter, just well versed in the Nora/Reid saga.”

“He probably doesn’t even want to see me again.”

“Yeah, I doubt that,” she said, pulling her phone from the pocket of her sweats. “He’s texted me like thirty times making sure you were okay.”

I smiled. “I think I should go see him.”

“I think you should shower first,” she pointed out.

“Good idea,” I agreed. “Hey G,” I asked, before I headed down the hallway. She looked over at me from the sofa. “You think Jamie was your soulmate?”

“Maybe,” she answered. The sadness that came along with the mention of Jamie’s name was there, but there was something else. Hope. “But, there might be another one out there somewhere.”

“I think there is,” I told her. “You’re too fantastic for there not to be.”





The guilt I felt for making her think all I wanted from her was to hook up in a back alley behind a bar was eating its way through my stomach lining. Since I’d left her at the bar last night, all I could do was blame myself for her behavior. If I hadn’t kissed her at the party, she wouldn’t have felt the need to get wasted and throw herself at me.

Maybe I should just leave her alone.

I’d considered tucking my tail between my legs and backing away from this whole thing, but the thought of not being with her told me to shut the hell up. When her car came down the lane that morning and came to a stop in front of my house, I rushed out the door to meet her, anxious to apologize and let her know I’d back off if that’s what she needed. But before I had a chance to take the blame for what had been going on between us, she started talking.

“I’m so sorry for how I acted last night,” she said, meeting me half way between the porch and her car. She looked much better than she had last night, her eyes brighter, her skin glowing. Her hair was still damp from her morning shower and falling into loose waves as it dried on its own. The jeans and loose off the shoulder sweatshirt she was wearing made her look younger than she had in our past few meetings, especially with the little make up she’d put on her face. She was beautiful.

“I’m sorry for kissing you the other night,” I told her. “I know that you asked me for time, I just felt desperate and I couldn’t help myself. I shouldn’t have done anything to make you feel uncomfortable.”