Throttled (Wild Riders #1)(5)

I grabbed the folder of papers that needed a signature and got out of my car. I didn’t see anyone around, but the back of the trailer was open.

“Hello,” I called out. The familiar roar of dirt bike motors could be heard off in the distance. Just what this town needed—some Reid Travers wannabe moving in. I would have bet money that whoever it was knew that Reid had learned to ride on this property and thought they could recreate magic. Ugh. And judging from the company name on the trailers, they were probably going to charge admission.

“Hi,” a voice answered from inside the trailer. “I’ll be right out.”

“Great. I’m Nora from Hillcrest Realty. I have the contracts for the land deed.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the man said as he stepped to the back of the trailer with an expression of pure surprise widening his features. “Nora Bennett. Long time, no see.”

I took in his full frame. He didn’t look like the boy that had moved away with his family all those years ago. Hoyt Travers was all grown up, and quite well I might add, but I still recognized his smile. It was just as sweet as ever. The Travers boys had been blessed with very generous genes.

“Hoyt? Wow. How are you?” I smiled back at him. He wrapped his arms around me unexpectedly and I giggled like a schoolgirl—something I couldn’t remember doing in years. Hoyt and I had started Kindergarten together way back when. He was actually the first Travers to give me the time of day. He had been the one who invited me over to his house to go swimming the summer before high school. The same summer that his brother finally noticed I was alive.

“You look good, Hoyt. But you’re squeezing me to death.”

“My bad,” he replied quickly squeezing me one more time before releasing me. “You look pretty damn good yourself. And I’m doing all right.”

“RTR Incorporated?” I inquired, gesturing to the lettering. “That’s you?”

“Kind of.” He shrugged. “Reid Travers Racing.”

“Of course.” I should have figured the second I heard the dirt bikes. “You buying the land?”

“We are.” His use of we should have been an indicator of what I was avoiding asking. There was no way he drove both of these vehicles to Illinois by himself, but I really doubted that Reid would have come back now. Or ever. He’d gone seven solid years without so much as glancing back. Why would he start now? “Reid is going to shit a brick when he sees you,” Reid whistled lowly.

“So he’s here then?” I had not been prepared for an impromptu reunion with my ex. So much for my internal reasoning that he wouldn’t be there. His brother I could handle, but seeing Reid again had a lump forming in my throat that was threatening to cut off my air supply. “I mean... I doubt it,” I choked out taking a deep breath.

“I don’t know—” Before Hoyt could finish responding, the roar of two full throttles drowned out his voice. Two bikes came racing towards us, both men wearing helmets, but I could tell without a doubt that Reid was on the right.

He had the same posture, the same style. The same hard determination that he’d always had when riding—gripping the handles and twisting the throttle like it was exactly what he’d been put on this earth to do. I’d been watching him ride since I was fourteen. Ever since I skipped jumping into the pool with Hoyt, took my first ride on the back of Reid’s bike and got the scar on the inside of my left calf. I’d been wearing shorts, a mistake I never made again, when I bumped it on the motor.

I’d been trying to fade it away for years—coco butter, vitamin E, whatever suggestion I could find on the Internet for removing scars. But, just like remembering how Reid rode his bike, the scar had stuck with me.

I caught myself nervously tucking my hair behind my ear. I wasn’t there to see Reid. I was here to do a job. I straightened my stance and held my shoulders back. I wasn’t some easily distracted kid anymore. I refused to let him affect all the hard work I’d put into forgetting about him.

“I just need a corporate signature.” I held up the papers in my hand and tried to pretend like I didn’t see his face when he pulled his helmet off. I also pretended to ignore that I didn’t see the tight stretch of his jeans across his thighs as he sat there on his bike trying to figure out if it was actually me standing on his property. The afternoon sunlight shone behind him—the light breaking around his broad shoulders and head full of thick, dark hair. There was a hitch in my breathing that I covered by clearing my throat.

“I can sign it,” Hoyt said, reaching out to grab the papers from my hand.

“Actually, it’s my name on the deed, little brother,” the timbre of Reid’s voice sent a delicious chill down my spine that I tried to ignore. Between the halo of sunlight, the cadence of his voice, and the way he stepped down off his bike, I found myself unable to keep from looking directly at him. I glanced his way, just in time to watch as he pulled up the bottom of his threadbare T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.

Sweet Jesus. I had to pray that he didn’t notice my eyes widen and me damn near drooling.

Just like his brother, Reid Travers had grown up. He had always been attractive, but time and professional racing had done something to his features and body that he should have thanked the good Lord every day for. His jawline and nose seemed more chiseled. His eyes wiser and brighter. Well-worn jeans hung around his hips, the waistband sitting just below a set of abs that had me thinking all kinds of things—none of which had anything to do with a real estate transaction. While my stomach was a knot of nervousness, below that something inside of me was coiling so tightly that the possibility of shooting straight into the sky seemed feasible. Especially if he kept looking at me the way he was. His brown eyes were locked on mine and I was helpless to look away.