Denver: A Bad Boy Romance (FMX Bros Book 3) (5 page)

Chapter 11

Denver

Cole met us at the back gate. “So weird having you come through the gate like a damn visitor.” He flashed his charming King smile at Jami. “I’m Cole, by the way, since we’ve only met over a flight of stairs. Welcome to the play yard.” He waved his arm around. “Kensington and Sayler will be here later for some barbecue. I know they’re dying to talk to you.”

“Can’t wait,” Jami said as her gaze circled the property. “I’m completely getting the play yard reference.”

Rodeo was circling the small dirt track on his bike. Jami stopped to watch him. “Is that freestyle?”

“Not quite.” I pointed to the narrow metal kicker at the back of the property. “That’s where we practice the jumps.”

She stared at it with a cute look of confusion on her face. “So, you just shoot up in the air and then drop back down?”

“Something like that,” Cole answered for me.

We headed toward the circle of chairs near the jumps, and Jami sat down.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Cole asked.

She smiled up at him. “No, I’m good.”

Cole sat down on one side of her, and I sat on the other.

I glanced back at the track. A thin layer of dust was hovering over that half of the yard. “Is Rodeo going to jump or what?” I asked.

Cole shrugged. “Claims his head isn’t in it yet. That’s why he’s circling the dirt. He’s trying to find his
inspiration
. We need to get him back to work.” Cole smiled at Jami to keep her in the conversation. “Rodeo gets a lot of bottled up energy when he’s got nothing much to keep him occupied. And Sayler’s been working all week, so he’s extra bored. Sayler is a dance instructor.”

“How fun,” Jami said. “I love to dance. I’ve got two left feet, but I love to dance anyway.” She turned my direction. “Do you dance?”

“Only when forced,” I confessed.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Cole said. “Denver is as smooth on the dance floor as he is with everything else he does.”

I leaned over to look at Cole. “Oh that’s right, boss, you and I have danced together many times. How the hell do you know if I’m smooth?”

“Saw you getting all cool and country at Finley’s fundraiser.”

“Didn’t know you were keeping such a close eye on my dance moves.”

“What was the fundraiser for?” Jami asked.

Cole stretched his feet out and crossed them. “My sister, Finley, and her boyfriend Rett run a farm animal sanctuary out in the valley.”

“What a great way to spend time. I love animals but my constant traveling makes it really hard to keep a pet.”

I stood up. I’d worn my pants and jersey but still needed to get my bike and gear from the garage. “Cole is Nicky King’s son. Nicky sang country tunes at the fundraiser. Have to admit, it was pretty sweet dancing to a live Nicky King performance.”

Jami turned back to Cole. “
The
Nicky King? I love Black Thunder. A few years back, I was in London for a tour. Can’t remember exactly how it happened but a couple of us musicians ended up at this fantastic estate. We got to play with Nathan Riggs. When he plays guitar, it’s like the whole world stops turning to listen.”

Cole smiled. “Yeah, Uncle Nate is the best. That’s cool that you got to jam with him. You are incredibly talented too. We heard you out there on the beach. I’ve never seen anyone draw a crowd like that.”

“With the exception of your dad,” she laughed.

“True. But really, you’re amazing.”

“Thank you.”

Rodeo raced toward the kicker but stopped short of riding up it. He propped his bike up on the stand and yanked off his goggles and helmet.

I glanced over at Cole. “Looks like someone couldn’t find his inspiration out there on the track.”

Rodeo headed toward us in an angry stomp.

“What’s wrong?” Cole called.

Rodeo shook his head and scowled down at the ground. “Gravity is fucking with my head today. Don’t know why. Just is.”

“I would imagine that happens a lot,” Jami said. “Sometimes, before performing, I get hit with this paralyzing stage fright, and I’m sure I’ll hit every wrong note once I lift my bow. I find it happens mostly when I’m over thinking stuff.”

Rodeo pointed at her, not rudely but to show agreement. “That’s it. Over thinking. It just gets in my way sometimes.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Now Einstein, here, thrives on the whole over thinking thing. But I’m not naturally inclined to be a thinker. I’m a doer. But if that tiny little thinking devil on my shoulder gets a hold of me, then I’m screwed.” Rodeo’s scowl had vanished and he grinned at me. “Am I right?”

I gave a half-hearted nod. “A healthy balance, bro. It takes a healthy balance of thinking and doing. Speaking of doing, I’m going to head over to the garage and get my gear.” I looked at Jami. “I’ll be right back.” She’d worn a pale blue, tight t-shirt and I’d grown instantly fond of it and everything else about her, for that matter. She was completely at ease talking to Cole and Rodeo, like I knew she would be. I’d never felt so instantly comfortable with anyone like I had with Jami.

Rodeo sat down next to her and shooed me along. “Go ahead. Jami and I are going to talk about you over thinking types while you’re gone.”

Cole hopped up from his chair. “I’ll make the trek back to the house with you. I’ve got to start the barbecue.”

We walked across the yard toward the house and garage. “So, boss, any word on when we’ll be back on the job?”

“You know how those city council people like to drag their asses on everything. We’ve decided to give everyone two week’s pay. The company will absorb the loss. I can’t have all the subcontractors and their guys going off to find different jobs. Otherwise, when we are allowed back on site, we’ll have such a skeleton crew, it’ll take that much longer to finish.”

We stopped at the natural fork in the yard where one path led to the patio and barbecue and the other led to the garage. Cole shot a glance back to where we’d just come from. “She’s really something, huh? Can’t believe she was jamming with Nate in London. Small world. Just watch that you don’t get hooked too fast. You know how you get?”

My jaw tensed. It was rare for Cole to say stuff that pissed me off. That was usually Rodeo’s job.

Cole had sensed that I was pissed, the second after he said it. “Didn’t mean anything by it, bro.”

“Just because I don’t sleep with every girl who winks her lashes at me. Fuck, King, sometimes you say the stupidest damn shit.”

“Come on, I just meant—you don’t find that many people to like, so when you do, you tend to give your heart up pretty fast.”

I stared at him, thinking this was the first time I’d ever felt like taking a swing at the guy. “This coming from the heartsick sap who checks his fucking phone every second to see if his girlfriend has texted.”

He put up his hands. “You’re right.” I thought he was finished, but apparently he had more to get off his chest. “But think about it—what’s she doing out here in California? If she’s a professional musician, it seems like she would be required to travel a lot. Trust me, no one knows that better than me. Just don’t want you to end up on the short side of the string.”

“Yeah, you can stop your lecture,
Mom
. I’m just having a good time, and so is she. So, don’t worry your pretty little head about me and keep watch over your own balls.”

Cole raised up a hand. “You’re right. I’ll keep my mouth shut about it from now on. See you out at the ramp.”

I headed to the garage feeling just a little less like riding. As pissed as Cole’s comments had made me, he’d also brought up a good point. How long would someone like Jami be hanging around the coast, living in a rundown beach house? I was going to have to take a step back and not lose my head over her. A worldly woman like Jami Holliday was, no doubt, going to bore quickly of someone like me.

Chapter 12

Jami

Kensington had joined me at the chairs. She was an exceptionally pretty girl with polite manners and a great personality. She seemed perfect for Cole, and he rarely took his eyes off of her. It was sweet, and I envied them for having each other.

Denver had come out of the garage wearing intimidating-looking motorcycle boots and gloves. A shiny white helmet wrapped with goggles was tucked under his arm. He looked a little less happy or maybe he was just concentrating on his ride.

Rodeo was on the back wall watching the action. Kensington and I sipped beers and watched Denver kick-start his motorcycle. I was surprised at how loud it was, especially when he twisted the grip on his handlebars to warm it up.

“Don’t know why I was expecting it to sound smoother and less fast.” I talked loudly over the motor. “I guess it takes a lot of power to get that bike to launch off the ramp.”

Kensington’s eyes rounded. “Is this the first time you’ve seen him ride?”

“Yes, I’m not sure what to expect.”

She placed her hand over mine. “Try not to freak out too much. Denver is an excellent rider. He really flies through the air. Makes it look as if the bike is made of Styrofoam and filled with helium. He’s fun to watch, but it all comes with a slice of terror.” Kensington took another sip of beer and made a face. “I confess I’m more of a wine drinker.”

“Rodeo mentioned that your father owned the grapevines on the other side of the ravine. That must have been cool growing up on a vineyard.”

“It was. My parents love the place. I don’t think they’ll ever leave.”

I released a long breath. “A permanent home—that would be lovely. I’ve always had to travel so much, I’ve never felt like I had a permanent home. And permanent friends were even harder to come by.”

Denver rode off toward the opposite end of the property.

“Sayler and I adore Denver. He is such a sweetheart and he’s so smart. He’s such a contradiction because he’s so calm and cerebral. Then he hauls off on that bike and pitches himself into the air like a wild man.”

“Does Cole ride too?” Denver’s bike grew louder as he circled back toward us.

“He’s still in the learning phase,” Kensington said. “But he’s good and insanely fearless. Here comes Denver.”

I hadn’t heard Cole walk up behind us. “I’ll be putting those steaks on in ten minutes.” He walked past the chairs and stood crossed armed in front of us as he watched Denver ride toward the ramp.

The metal clanged and the front tire rolled up the ramp. Denver was a big man and sitting on the motorcycle in his gear, he looked downright massive. A gasp caught in my throat. I stared open-mouthed as man and machine flew up off the ramp. But he didn’t just stay seated and head back down to earth. Denver’s legs came up off the foot pegs, and his long legs shot straight up in the air.

In a rush of panic, I grabbed Kensington’s arm and watched in complete shock as Denver’s hands left the handlebars and moved temporarily back to the seat. Then, just as quickly, his hands returned to the bars. He curled his legs down toward the bike. He was back on solid seating just seconds before the bike touched back down to the dirt.

Rodeo whistled from his wall perch.

Cole laughed. “Like a damn ballerina.” He shook his head as he turned around. “Sometimes I wonder if that guy has trained his body to ignore all the laws of physics. It would be just like him.”

My heart rate was just returning to normal. I gulped some beer to soothe the dryness in my throat. I could sense that Kensington was staring at the side of my face waiting for my reaction.

I took another sip. “I did not expect that. First of all, nothing, and I mean nothing about that seems safe or sane. At the same time, it looks like the best damn fun anyone could ever have on a motorcycle.”

Denver looked at me through his goggles as he rolled past. The helmet covered most of his face. Something about the all the gear made him seem warrior-like. I liked it. And I liked the man under the helmet. There were so many facets to him, it was hard to decide which one I liked best. Although, last night’s end to a perfect date was probably at the top of the list. A deep, sexy, daring man who knew just what to say and how to make me laugh—five weeks suddenly seemed horribly short.

I held my breath again as Denver performed another trick. His bike flew up and the front tire kept going until he’d flipped completely around. None of it made sense with the universe. The heavy bike, the tall man, the unwieldy gear. It all seemed impossible, and yet, Denver pulled off each trick as easily as someone might jump into the deep end of a pool.

On his fourth pass, the bike hit the ramp, and he shot up into the air. He whipped the motorcycle sideways and then smoothly brought it perpendicular with the ground. It was all beautifully choreographed as if it should be set to music. He landed with a jarring thud and an alarming few seconds of wobbling. But he straightened up quickly and rode smoothly back around.

Rodeo hopped off the wall and walked across to meet Denver as he took off his helmet and shut down the bike. He propped the motorcycle up on a stand and sat his helmet on the seat. He scrubbed his hair back with his fingers, and it stood up in black spikes all over his head.

I hadn’t noticed that I was fanning myself until Kensington laughed and elbowed me. “Don’t worry. Watching them ride the motorcycles gets all of us a little flushed.”

I lowered my hand and realized she’d been right about the flush. My cheeks felt warm. “Why do you think that is? The danger? The man versus nature thing?”

Kensington sat back with a satisfied grin. “I think it’s just that they look so damn hot in their gear. Especially when you add in that layer of sweat.”

I stared over at Denver. He was definitely a sight in his blue motocross jersey, riding pants and boots. “You’re right. The sweat adds just that little touch of perfection.”

She laughed.

“What did I miss?” a girl’s voice came from behind. We turned around. Rodeo’s girlfriend, Sayler, was walking toward us. She was pretty like Kensington, but there was something more earthy and sassy about her.

I reached up and shook her hand. “Hi, I’m Jami. We were just discussing the manly glow that a layer of sweat can produce.”

“Yep, makes me hot every time I watch Parker ride.”

“Parker?” I asked.

“That’s Rodeo’s real name.” Kensington handed Sayler a beer as she sat down. “He can ride a horse as well as he can jump a motorcycle.”

The three men walked over. Rodeo leaned down to kiss Sayler. Denver grabbed his water bottle from the cup holder in his chair and chugged it down. His throat moved with each swallow. Once again Kensington had to elbow me out of  watching him.

I covered my face for a second.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Denver is fun to watch no matter what he’s up to.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “And he keeps a real close eye on you too.”

“So, Denver, you hot boy toy model. You’re famous.” Sayler reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. It was a magazine page. She handed it across and Kensington and I halted its progress toward Denver and unfolded it. It was an advertisement for sports gear. There was a beautiful girl wearing a short leather skirt and tall leather boots. She was standing next to Denver as he straddled his motorcycle.

Kensington whistled. “Wow, what a great picture.”

Cole and Rodeo walked over and leaned in to get a look.

“Isn’t he sweet,” Rodeo said. “Why the fuck did they comb your hair like that, dude? Reminds me of my kindergarten picture when my mom used her spit to tame down my hair.”

Denver sat down and stretched out his long legs. He didn’t bother to look at the picture.

“Nice,” Cole said. “Is that Britney Ogden? Haven’t seen her since—” He stopped as Kensington made a point of clearing her throat.

Cole forced a smile. “Since I saw her at the library when I was studying how to be the world’s most romantic boyfriend.”

“O.K. Pinocchio,” Kensington said, “stop before it grows so long it breaks off.” She tugged the picture with a little more strength than needed from Cole’s hands, and he flashed her a contrite grin. She handed it over to Denver but he shook his head.

“I already know what I look like, and Rodeo’s right, they greased my hair down like I was some stupid little kid getting his portrait taken.”

“Well, maybe the hair isn’t great,” Sayler piped up, “but that picture is being shared and liked all over the damn place. And it’s not because of the
library
girl.” She raised a brow at Cole.

Rodeo looked over at Denver. “Man, with publicity like that, I’ll bet Crushin’ It Sports Gear will be wanting you to pose again.”

“They’ve already called for me to come back for another round. Maybe I’ll stop jumping and just pose for corny, staged photos with greasy hair.” Denver got up with a sigh and walked over to me. He lowered his hand for me to take. “Come on. I’ll take you for a tour of the place.”

“Steaks are almost done,” Cole called as Denver led me away from the circle of chairs.

“I’ll try not to get us lost,” Denver called back.

“This is an immense piece of property,” I noted as we headed past the house and beyond the dirt track where we’d seen Rodeo riding when we walked in.

“Nicky King was planning to start a vineyard, but he never got the idea off the ground. Cole moved out here when the construction company landed a contract to build a casino nearby.”

We walked along the side of the house and to a garden where a row of white rose bushes lined a brick path. An old, rusted gazebo was holding onto its last signs of life. It seemed one strong wind gust would put it out of its misery.

We walked up the rickety steps and stood inside of it. More than one plant had decided to climb and claw its way up the rod iron railing.

I drew my gaze around the structure. “This looks like a forgotten relic, yet it oozes charm.”

“Thought you might like it. You can see all the way across to the vineyards.”

I walked to the edge where I could see clear across to the neatly planted rows of grapevines. “By the way, I had no idea what to expect when you were jumping.” I turned back to him. “Scared me half to death. What compels you to do it? The adrenaline rush?”

He shrugged. A dark stubble covered the lower half of his face. The man even knew exactly the right amount of facial hair to wear. “Guess it’s the physical and mental challenge. The rush is a bonus. It gives you the sensation of flying when you’re arcing through the air, but the ground below is always that stark reminder that there are no wings on your back.” With that, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer. “Hope you don’t mind a little sweat.”

I smiled to myself thinking about the earlier conversation with Kensington. “Why, as a matter of fact, I don’t mind . . . at all.” I turned my face up to his. “As long as you don’t mind a bit of beer breath.”

He lowered his mouth to just above mine. “Why as a matter of fact . . .” His kiss immediately deepened, and he pulled me even tighter against him. “I’m ready to go back home and continue our date.” He reached up and pressed his hand against the side of my face. “I can’t believe how fast I’m growing used to having you in my arms.” His expression darkened some, and he dropped his hand and lessened his hold on me. “I know you told me you were out here to get away from your mom, but I realize I don’t know much else. Are you planning on living in California?”

It wasn’t a question I’d prepared myself for. “I’m not sure what I’m doing just yet, Denver. I’ve got a lot of commitments back home, but I left there because I was so unhappy I thought I’d go mad from it.” I leaned against him. “For now, I’m just taking it day by day. But I wouldn’t blame you at all if you decided not to waste time with someone who is as stable as a puff of smoke in a strong breeze.”

“Are you kidding, Holliday?” He wrapped his arms tighter again. “Not one second with you is a waste of time. You’re like this perpetual stream of daylight. I guess I’m asking only because I’m trying to brace myself for the day you leave and the shades get drawn.” He lowered his mouth to mine.