Throttled (Wild Riders #1)(7)
I looked her up and down as she stated her purpose for actually being there. Looks like the wild child I knew had grown up and become a real estate agent. I’d never imagined her doing something so... business-y. The girl I knew loved to be outside and living in the moment. Looks like she’d decided to take the boring route after I left. She even drives a boring car with a boring color. Not the vibrant girl I remember who loved to drive her rusty old Jeep around with the top off.
Her very professional look was doing something to me that I hadn’t expected, though. I’d always pictured her in cut-offs and a tank top, like she wore in the summers when we were kids, but the polished look was good on her. The white sleeveless silk button down tucked into her fitted black skirt, coupled with the way she had her hair pulled back and the nude heels that wrapped around her feet evoked images of her starring in my very own hot teacher/librarian fantasy. But, no such luck. The second she opened her mouth I knew she was all business. There’d be no eighties’ music video reenactments this afternoon.
“I need a corporate signature,” she’d said, after leaving me with a “fine” when I asked how she was doing. I don’t know what I expected. Her to hug me and tell me that it was good to see me? Our last time together hadn’t ended on a high note. We’d stood in almost the exact same spot we were standing in just now and I told her that I was moving and I didn’t think we should see each other anymore. They were the hardest words I’d ever had to let roll off my tongue in my life. I’d caught her off guard, but she didn’t even give me a chance to explain that I was breaking up with her because it wasn’t fair to either of us not to.
“Have a great life, Reid,” she’d said. I still remember her words hitting me like they were dipped in acid, burning straight through my skin and leaving a permanent scar on my heart. She hopped in her car and left me standing in a cloud of dust. So, yeah, I deserved the resting bitch face she was slinging my way.
When Brett started talking to her, the pang of jealousy I felt when he managed to wrestle a small smile from her with this southern charm had me gritting my teeth. That little dimple she had on her left cheek when she smiled presented itself and I had to fight back the urge to rest my lips against it like I used to.
Why did she have to be so f*cking gorgeous?
Nora Bennett was, and always would be, the prettiest girl I’d ever laid eyes on. I knew that at fifteen when I’d asked her to be my girlfriend. There was never a shortage of attractive women on the motocross circuit—from track chicks to super models, but none of them held a candle to her. Seeing her again was like casing a jump and having reality slam you into the ground.
But it was different now. I couldn’t very well throw her over my shoulder and beat my chest like a caveman. I’d lost my right to claim her a long time ago. Actually, I’d given it up. She wasn’t my girl anymore, despite what I was feeling.
“Real smooth,” my brother teased as we watched her drive away, I could just make out the taillights through the cloud of dust her dark gray Subaru was making. “She got out of here like her ass was on fire.”
“Maybe she was trying to get away from you two clowns,” I rebutted. But I knew better. I’d made some stupid comment and run her off, when I should have been groveling just to talk to her. I should have asked for a chance to apologize for the way things ended between us. My brother served as a good sounding board from time to time, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that to Brett. As much as we razzed each other, the last thing I wanted to do was give him ammo. “Especially Sally over here… ‘The illustrious Nora,’” I mocked. “What the hell was that?”
“That was my way of letting her know that you think about her all the time,” he replied. “Pretty smooth if I do say so myself. You. Are. Welcome,” he smiled cheekily.
“You. Are. Insane,” I laughed, I had to—to save face and all that. “I don’t think about her all the time.” I couldn’t remember the last time I talked about her. “I don’t recall having any conversations about her with you.”
“Dude, seriously.” He ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair and pushed it from his face. “And, I said you think about her all the time. Not talk.” He had me there. I did think about her. How could I not? She was the first girl I ever loved. Maybe it made me a chick, but she had a special place in my heart. Not to mention she was fine as f*ck and God help me, I would never forget the first time I got to actually f*ck her. Or the second. Or third. Or any of the times for that matter… everyone since had sort of fallen… short.
“You do,” Hoyt agreed when I looked to him for some brotherly support. “Think about her.”
Traitor.
Brett continued, “I’ve known you for what, eight, nine years now? Every time her name is mentioned or someone talks about having a girlfriend or settling down, you get this pussified look on your face and we all know exactly who you’re thinking about. Hell, when you first moved to Texas, every time you stayed over and you saw one of my mom’s Nora Roberts books sitting on the coffee table, you’d rub your finger over her name on the cover for a good ten minutes. Remember that?”
“I remember throwing a book at your head on more than one occasion.”
“Pretty sure you gave him a black eye once,” Hoyt interjected. He held up his hand for a fist bump and I couldn’t leave him hanging.