Chloe's Secret (8 page)

Chapter 11

Checking the weather before leaving would have been a good idea. We left my neighborhood, and ventured south on a road that eventually wound corner after corner and turned to single lane, then gravel. The gravel was difficult, causing the bike to sporadically careen. I had to stay concentrated on the bike, the road, and the man’s backside that I followed. Unfortunately the latter caused me to poorly perform the former.

Colton glanced over his shoulder, making sure I hadn’t disappeared, and kept moving. I had no choice but to stay close. I was lost; returning home would be impossible without him. I wouldn’t dare admit it though and I didn’t care. The hillside was beautiful, the air so crisp my breath floated on it like clouds. The smells of the city turned into country fragrance over time, cut fields, cattle lots, gardens, flowers, even food cooking. It all wafted over us as we rolled along.

He dropped a hand in an open gesture when another motorcycle roared past. I did the same since it seemed to be the expected action.

Things took a turn forty minutes from home, starting with the sky. It became a smoky gray and the sun that earlier had warmed my cheeks disappeared. Then occasional small pellets of rain stung my face and hands. The force of their impact was like needles and my eyes burned from the pain. When we approached a barn-like building with beer lights flashing, Colton pulled his bike to the side, then eased it under an overhang. I pulled in beside.

“We’ll wait it out here,” he shouted over the crescendo of rainfall that pummeled us. Water dripped from his hair and the denim of his jeans had turned a dark indigo, hugging the curves lovingly.

I pulled the helmet from my head and laid it over the handlebars. My hair hung in dripping tendrils around my face, and I was certain the rain had soaked through most of the layers I wore. “Where are we?”

“As a crow flies, maybe twenty or thirty miles from your house, but the roads back aren’t too fast on a dry day. With this,” he gestured at the sky, “it’s not safe to drive. You want to go inside?”

I looked at the wood siding, confused. “I don’t know. Do I?”

His glance wandered up and down my drenched clothing. “Yeah, you do. We have to kill a little time anyway. At least until the rain lets up.”

“I guess one of the rules of riding that I need to add to my list would be to check the weather, huh?”

He smiled. “I did. There was less than a twenty percent chance. We just got lucky.”

I wasn’t sure exactly how that equated to lucky, but I followed him into the stable bar, where we met the lone bartender as he leaned against the counter watching . . . the weather.

“Not a great day to be out and about,” he chastised before taking our order and delivering beers.

The smell of rain from outside disappeared as the door closed and was replaced with soap, wood, and—spilled alcohol? Colton noticed a dartboard in the corner and headed toward it. When I reached his side, he spoke. “Did Grams ever tell you how she got started with pulling horses?” He took a swig of beer and tossed a dart toward the wall. It landed in the bottom ring.

“A little, not much.”

“What she’d say?”

Tess had small hands and they looked dainty around the darts. She rocked one back and forth in her hand then repeated herself. “Not much.”

“Have you ever heard of the Great Flood of ’51? It washed out a lot of Kansas and Missouri.”

“Nope.” She tossed the dart, landing it in the ring just outside center. He found it a little enticing that she held her tongue against her lip as she let it go, then licked it back once the target was hit.

“Well, Grams had this pulling horse as a kid that apparently was mean. A real pain in the ass, I guess. Or maybe it was my Granddad’s, I can’t remember. Anyhow, the horse got in some trouble with one of the local business owners and he demanded she be put down. Grams wasn’t having any of it. She cried and begged her dad to save the horse. But the guy was more of an ass than the horse, and in the end he filed a legal complaint with the county judge—who just happened to be his cousin. The horse ended up in the Kansas City Stockyards, headed for the glue factory.”

“What does that have to do with the flood?”

“I’m getting to that.” Colton strode to the target and pulled the darts, then came back and lined up for another try. “It had been raining off and on for days and the horse had been cooped up in the sale barn just waiting for a dry day to do the auction that would decide where she went next. Wherever it was, it spelled death for sure. When the water crested the banks of the levees and started pouring into the stockyards in the West Bottoms, no one was prepared. The barns and stockyard pens around the railroad crumbled and washed into the river. Houses were covered in river mud that had washed up and the people themselves had climbed to their roofs or higher ground to survive.”

“Please don’t tell me the horse drowned in the flood.”

He tossed a dart and shook his head. “Of course not, but nearly ten thousand other animals did which devastated a lot of ranchers. We were lucky and she was smart. How would we have them now if she’d died?”

“You mean she’s the ancestor?”

“She’s Bullwhip’s grandmother, actually in horse terms, his grand dam.”

“And Goliad too?”

He shook his head and launched another dart. “No, Goliad’s a great grandchild, from Bullwhip’s sister, born much later. Goliad’s just a teenager in horse years.”

“So, how’d they save her from the flood?”

He touched the last dart to Tess’ nose. “That’s the cool part. She saved herself—and a lot of other people too. Apparently it was a big deal and made the newspaper.”

“How?” She asked then clapped when his dart lodged in the center of the target. “Nice.”

He admired her silhouette as she practically skipped to retrieve the darts. He also silently thanked the rain for interrupting their ride. He continued the story. “With all the wind and rain, it was hard to hear and even harder to maneuver the current to get people out of the debris. The horse somehow found six people in the rubble and was able to either carry or drag them to the banks.”

She glanced over her shoulder, dubiously. “Really?”

He held up two fingers. “I swear.”

“So she was a hero?”

“In these parts, yes. Or at least she was a long time ago. That happened when she was only thirteen. She died at thirty one which is pretty old for a draft horse.”

“What happened to the old guy who wanted to send her to the glue factory?”

He shrugged. “Peer pressure is a good thing once in a while. Would you want to kill a hero, even if it’s a horse?”

“Probably not. Thanks for telling me.”

“Grams loved that horse and she was thrilled when they brought it home to her. It nearly broke her heart when she had to put it down.”

“Put it down?”

“That’s a long story that you really need to hear from her, but suffice it to say the horse was a hero to the very end. You would have liked her.”

Chapter 12

One beer, a Diet Coke, water, a bowl of popcorn, and thirteen rounds of darts later, we still waited for a break in the deluge. I ordered another beer and plopped onto a barstool.

“Don’t you have any vet emergencies this weekend?” I asked.

“Maybe, I can’t exactly check messages on the bike, and this rain doesn’t help with a signal here in the hills. We have a partner clinic that backs us up and we alternate weekend duty with them. Fortunately, this is their weekend.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, glanced at it, and slipped it back. He had done that umpteen times while we played.

When I downed about half my beer, Colton leaned forward and cupped his fingers around the edges of my stool then pulled. He slid my chair closer and put his feet on the bottom of it, encasing me with lanky wet-jean legs. “So, what’s this about my grandmother?”

Yikes.

I really didn’t want to piss him off again, especially since I needed his help to get home. “How is she by the way? Still in the hospital?”

“A couple more days. She’s weak, tired, and needs to eat. Hopefully they’ll make sure she does while she’s there, but I’m sure her welcome will be worn out in no time.”

“She’s really proud of you. I can tell.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

I was, and I intended to keep doing so. I was wet, cold, and lost. I knew better than to press my luck with my tour guide, not to mention I’d given it enough thought to decide maybe I should let her tell him in her own way. I had no idea how to avoid his question. So, I chose another tactic. One that I wasn’t really great at.

The come on.

“I was hoping we’d talk about something more interesting.” I stood with his legs still surrounding me—and stepped into him. Walking my fingers up his damp shirt, which happened to cling in some very interesting places, I locked on his eyes.

Colton narrowed them to slits, watched me thread my fingers into the soft hairs at the neck of his shirt, and brought his beer to his lips. He didn’t say a word. His Adam’s apple lunged up and down as he swallowed.

“Surely we can think of something to discuss other than Mona?” I continued.

He set his empty beer on the counter and dropped his hands on his thighs, clutching into them. Still, no words. I was out on a limb and unsure what to do next. I had no intention of discussing Mona and Chloe, yet this wasn’t a game I had a lot of comfort with either. Especially with someone like him.

I sucked in a breath, which was a monumental effort because I was way too close for comfort. Then I chickened out. I took a short step back.

His hands flew to my neckline and clutched into the fabric of my wet shirt. I swore I heard a squishing sound from the saturated thread, but it was masked by the thud of our chests smashing together when he yanked me against him. “I’m not much of a talker, but I listen well. Just one problem though,” he mumbled.

I was having trouble breathing. “What’s that?”

“The music’s loud in here, so you’ll need to stay close so I can hear you.” His lips were inches—no, not even inches, millimeters from mine.

We were in a bar, a public business, so I felt reasonably safe in the contact. How far could it go, right? There were other people around. Well, one other person. From the corner of my eye, the bartender behind the counter disappeared through a door, and we were alone. Too alone.

His voice rumbled, stirring against me. “You want to take this farther, Tess?”

“Farther, how?” I was certain I nearly choked the words out.

He shrugged, causing both our chests to heave, and looked toward the door still swinging from our host’s exit. “I don’t know. Play darts, a game of pool, drink some shots.” Then he dropped the big one. “Cover each other in whipped cream.”

“We’re in a bar.”

Colton wrapped a steady arm around me, holding tight, and leaned the other across the counter. He grappled for a minute then lifted back and held in his grasp–a can of whipped cream. He lifted a brow.

“You’re serious?” My voice squeaked out and my throat dried instantly. I could feel his heartbeat against my skin.

“You like it straight from the can?” He flipped the lid off with his thumb and shook the container.

Gulp.

“Uh, I—”

Colton lifted the can slowly between us, pressed his thumb to the nozzle, lifted his head and—sprayed it into his mouth. When he dropped his face back to me, there was a glint in his eye. “Well?”

“I like it from the can, but I like to share better.” I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, licking away the small white foam at the corner. I wasn’t going to spread it over him, but I could still play along. He had started the game, put it right in front of me. So I kissed him deep enough to give him something to think about. Or at least I hoped so, then I pulled back. “Or we could just play darts.”

He dropped the can and threaded his calloused fingers into my wet hair. His big fingers cupped the back of my head as he kissed me back, deepening it, stroking his tongue against mine. It wasn’t until his hands started wandering down my back that I realized where we were. I guess it had been a long time since I’d been kissed like that. Still, I didn’t stop it. I let my hands do a little wandering of their own.

When the door to the bar flung open, and sunshine streamed through behind the foursome that entered, I was stunned. I blinked away the blinding light. Someone wolf-whistled.

“The rain stopped,” Colton stated.

Did that happen before or after the whipped cream?

Chapter 13

I hadn’t planned to tangle like that with him—or with cattle either. Out of embarrassment, I rushed from the bar and mounted my Dad’s motorcycle. I revved the engine, spun it around, and faced the wet road, stopping only when I realized I had no idea how to get home.

Colton ambled out of the barn-like building, obviously in no hurry. “What’s the rush, Lucky Bird? You have a date waiting?”

“Don’t you have work or something?”

“Or something, but—are you shoving me away again, Tess?”

“What do you mean?”

“Last time, I kissed you—you shoved me away and then called me all pissed. Now,
you
kissed
me
and I’m just trying to understand where this is going. Or not going.”

I had no idea how to answer that question and the engine was running, so I gave it a little gas. “I don’t know. Are you ready to leave or not?”

He reached down and turned the starter to off. The engine died, leaving only the sound of birds chattering in nearby trees. “Answer me, Tess.”

I was cornered in an open lot in the middle of nowhere. “It’s not going anywhere. Okay? Like you said, it wasn’t a big deal.”

He stood in front of the bike, straddled the tire and leaned in and—grinned. “Seemed big to me.” Then he leaned down and turned the starter back to on. “Fire it up.” Colton backed away, lifted a leg over his own bike, and pulled out expecting me to follow.

I raced to keep up with him as his speed continued to climb. The wet pavement intimidated my skills, causing my front tire to slip once or twice. Colton disappeared over a hill and I gunned to catch him, the wind against my face. It was near euphoric. The wonderful aroma of wet grass wafted over me, flanked by something else I didn’t recognize. While the wet road was a little dangerous, it was also thrilling. I topped the hill expecting to see him far ahead.

But
no.
He was stopped yards away in the middle of the road, straddling his ride. I stomped on the foot and hand brake, my tires slipped hard to the right. I stared into his eyes with fear.

“Tap it, Tess! Tap the brake. Tap it,” he yelled.

I swallowed my panic and tapped, the bike righted then slipped by him narrowly. Only to run smack into the herd of cattle rambling along in front of him. “Oh,
shit!”

Bam.

The cow didn’t see me coming. It made a loud groan and ran, scaring the rest of the herd into action. They scattered off the road to both sides, but it was too late.

The bike tumbled to the side and I slid down beside it, on my butt. I rolled over the road as Dad’s motorcycle slid before me. Fortunately we didn’t clip any more of the herd, they were all stampeding toward an open field.

When I finally stopped rolling, I lay on my back staring at the sky for endless seconds, blinking to make sure it was there.

“Did I hurt it? I’m sorry.” I had hit a cow and wrecked Dad’s motorcycle. I blinked again and focused. Colton was bent over me, feeling around. On my legs, my arms, everything. “Hey!”

He frowned. “Oh, my God, Tess. Are you okay?”

“Don’t you think this is a bad time to be groping me?”

He smirked. “I was checking to make sure nothing’s broken.”

I pulled myself up, aching everywhere, and thankful for the layers of clothes and helmet that, for the most part, had protected me from road rash. My hands were bleeding and I groaned.

“Cows,” I said. “In the middle of the road.”

“Yeah, there’s a couple of people too. Looks like they were moving them. You sure nothing’s broken?”

“I’m fine. A little sore and terrified and—” I looked at the scratches and dents beside me. “I killed my Dad’s bike, but I’m okay.”

I started to stand but he pushed me down. “Wait. I’m serious. You’re staying put until I check you out.”

“You did that back at the bar.”

He didn’t laugh, just bent and ran his hands over my legs, then arms, then shoulders. When he started up my ribs toward my breasts, I sucked in a breath and met his worried gaze.

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Seriously. Lay down.” He stood and pulled his phone to make a call. As he moved away to talk, he pointed a demanding finger at me, then the pavement below. I didn’t dare move. I was able to talk him out of an ambulance by agreeing to let him take me for a checkup.