Throttled (Wild Riders #1)(8)

“You did,” he confirmed. “But do you remember why exactly?”

“No.” I had given Brett a black eye on more than one occasion. That’s just what guys do. We beat each other up sometimes for shits and giggles and then we move on with our lives.

“The first time was because I suggested that you hook up with someone else to get her out of your system. The second time was because I asked if you’d left your dick back in Illinois and had any plans of retrieving it.” He held up his hands defensively, when I took a step toward him. I was starting to remember exactly why I hurled that book at his head. I clenched my fists and kept my hand at my side. “And the black eye incident we were just speaking of was a result of me joking about taking a trip to Halstead and getting a piece of whatever ass was responsible for turning you inside out.” He kept his hands up.

He left out the part where he’d said, “She must be one hell of a f*ck if you’re still this worked up over her. I really need some of that in my life.” I remembered though. It had pissed me off then and just remembering it now apparently had the same effect all these years later. No one got away with talking about Nora that way. Not even my best friend.

“Not that I ever would have,” Brett insisted. “I was just busting your chops.”

“Like she would have given you the time of day,” Hoyt said. Guess blood was thicker than water after all.

“For the record, I have hooked up with other girls,” I tried to steer the conversation away from me beating the shit out of Brett.

“Barely. You only take a girl home when your hand isn’t getting the job done. I’ve seen you grip handlebars. You can go months just whipping it in the shower.”

I rolled my eyes and walked back over to my bike. This conversation was going nowhere, and fast. Brett didn’t know the first thing about my sex life. Okay, maybe he did. I was happy to play wingman for him and my brother. They took girls home all the time. I hardly ever did. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to, but it was hard to find a girl that even held my interest for more than two seconds. The selection of vapid track bunnies just didn’t do it for me. I wanted someone that was capable of holding a conversation, and who understood exactly what my career demanded of me. The last thing I wanted to deal with was some clingy chick calling me every minute of the day. I’d told myself that it was because I was training or that I didn’t want to give a girl the wrong impression or have some crazy bunny boiler f*cking up my career, but I think I always knew deep down that it was more than that. I’d been waiting for a girl like Nora. Or, by the way my heart is racing by seeing her now, Nora in particular.

“What’s your point, Sally?” I asked.

“My point is you’re still hung up her.”

“We dated years ago,” I countered but couldn’t deny it. I took in a breath and calmed my nerves. I knew that Brett would never make a play for Nora, and Hoyt was right. She has way better taste than that. “I was just a dumb kid. What was I supposed to do? Keep dating a girl that lived a dozen hours away? Give up my chance at professional racing for high school love?”

“Look man, I’m not saying that you should go ask her to marry you, but maybe while we’re here, you could clear the air. Let her know that you’ve thought about her over the years. Maybe a fling with her will be enough to get you through the next seven years.”

“Now, why would I do that? I was the one that broke up with her.”

“Yeah, but the way she was looking at you and the way she stormed out when you talked to her... I’d say you’re not the only one with unresolved feelings.”

I looked at my brother, who offered up a shrug. Anticipation bubbled in my chest just like it did before a race.

Fuck me, but it was hope. I had hope of at least seeing Nora again. No… I had hope for way more than that.

Maybe Brett was right. Maybe I did owe it to myself, and to her, to find out exactly what those unresolved feelings were. If nothing else, maybe I could get some karma points for making amends.



*



After we squared away our living situation for the next three months—Hoyt and I would be bunking up in the little cabin that sat on the back edge of the property, while Brett did whatever it was that Brett did in his Airstream of Sin—we decided to grab showers and head into town for some dinner. Hoyt had suggested we stock the fridge and get a good night’s sleep because we had to meet the construction crew bright and early the next morning, but Brett quickly threw out a veto.

“I just spent the last twelve hours driving to the middle of nowhere. I’m getting a drink and laid tonight and I don’t care in which order,” he’d said with fervor. I was torn. On one hand, I was exhausted. On the other, the possibility of seeing Nora again had me unable to think straight. And now that I knew she was still in town, I knew that on a Friday night, the chances of seeing her at one of the two bars in town were high.

“We can’t very well turn him loose in Halstead alone.” I laughed as I followed Brett to his truck. Letting Brett go into town alone would inevitably result in one of two things. One, he’d end up in jail. Two, he’d end up hitting on the wrong girl and end up in a fight, which would probably still end with us picking him up at the County Sheriff’s office. I sure as shit didn’t feel like posting his bail… or seeing Sheriff Harden again—if he was even still the Sheriff around here. It was just as easy to go with him and stop him from stirring up trouble to begin with. Plus... Nora. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since she’d hauled ass down the lane.