Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (20 page)

She automatically tightened the blanket around her shoulders. Her throat had constricted, and she didn’t know why. “You said you had the wrong impression. What did you mean?”

“I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember the context.”

He sounded too much like a lawyer, and she reached for his hand, needing some reassurance. “If I ask you a question—one question—do you promise to tell the truth?” she asked.

He squeezed his eyes shut as though she were asking an impossible thing, and his fingers tightened around her hand.

“P-please, Kurt. It’s important to me.” Her voice caught but it was his expression that scared her the most; his face was twisted almost in agony. And then it abruptly straightened to that god-awful mask she hated.

“I promise,” he said, his voice bleak.

She swallowed. “Did you really want to look at land today? Because you never asked about prices and that last acreage was so beautiful.”

He made an indeterminate gesture with his head.

“You didn’t think it was beautiful?” she asked hopefully, her words coming in a rush, because if he was shaking his head to the first question, there was only one other reason why he’d ride up in the mountains with a pocketful of condoms.

“I didn’t really want to look at land today,” he said, his diction perfect. Perfect and very clipped.

She slowly released his hand, didn’t want him to feel her trembles. Squeezed her eyes shut but couldn’t stop the wobble in her mouth. “So why did we come up here?” she asked, her voice so low she wasn’t sure if he could hear.

“Truthfully, I wanted to talk to you, Julie,” he said and she laughed, almost hysterically, because she knew then he was lying.

“I see. ‘Talk to me.’ Well, I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression.” She raised her chin, gathering her dignity. Hoped he wouldn’t notice the devastation in her voice. “Please l-leave now so I can get dressed.”

She waited until he left the clearing then rose and gathered her jeans. They were dry and stiff, but she yanked them on, following with socks and boots, warm and toasty from the sun. It took longer to hook her bra than it had taken Kurt to unfasten it, and she swore in frustration, then yanked her shirt down and smoothed it with her hands. There, everything was back to normal. Good to go.

She could hear the pounding of an ax, sharp and almost violent as it bit into the wood. Sounded like he was splitting a year’s supply of firewood.

She wasn’t ready to face him yet so turned and stalked up the animal trail trying to manage her pain. She swiped her cheeks, angry at him but even more angry at herself. She wished she were home, wished he was gone, and she fervently wished she hadn't been so easy.

Would he say anything at the track? Just the thought made her groan. Gary had cautioned her about stuff like this, had stressed how important it was to keep personal affairs separate. Be squeaky clean, he'd warned. A whiff of gossip could sink a jock.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to reassure herself. Kurt might consider himself a prize stud—he definitely knew his way around a woman's body—but he didn’t seem the type to blab. The real mystery was why he had targeted her.

Had he planned this because he liked her or because he wanted a quick bang? He must be disappointed. It was a damn long way to ride for some shitty sex. She kicked a rock and kept walking.

Chapter Eighteen

Kurt trudged back to the campsite with the axe in his hand and a load of wood balanced in his arms. Julie’s jeans and boots were gone, and so was she. He blew out a sigh and let the wood tumble to the ground. She hadn’t passed him which meant she’d followed the trail upcountry.

He hoped she didn’t walk far, but she was mad, hurt and confused. Goddammit. He never would have touched her if he’d known how innocent she was. He cursed under his breath. He’d been taught to lie and misrepresent, and he was good at it, but when she’d looked at him with those luminous eyes, it had been impossible to lie. And then he’d hurt her worse.

Cisco’s nostrils flared with pink as he stared up the narrow trail; no doubt he was tracking Julie too. Kurt glanced at Dusty, who was still head down in the grass, and continued up the path, reassured. As long as one horse was hungry, it was unlikely the other would wander far.

Unlikely but possible.

He checked his watch, resolving to return within twenty minutes. Some hobbled horses could cover a lot of ground, and Cisco was one of them.

He walked fast, spurred by his ballooning guilt. Something moved, and he spotted Julie’s proud back. She was only twenty feet ahead, her steps hushed by the carpet of moss and lichen. He closed the gap but remained a polite distance back, giving her plenty of space. He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t been able to lie. Wasn’t yet certain of the best way to herd her back to the horses.

His hope flared when the trail led into a meadow filled with flowers. This might cheer her up—pull her out of her funk much easier than his clumsy words. She loved spring; here it was, at its finest.

Flowers dotted the grass. Snow lilies and paintbrush swayed in the breeze, creating a lush backdrop, their brightness exaggerated by the deep blue sky, the green mantle of grass, the scattering of bleached bones.

He edged around a speckled alder, his eyes narrowing. Dirt and boulders had been thrown over the meadow, their moist brownness at odds with the vivid colors, like unexpected graffiti that warned of a gang presence.

Snuffle, snuffle
. His heart jerked in horror. A massive grizzly dug for lily bulbs only a stone’s throw away. Her shoulder hump shook as her long claws tore out clumps of ground. A cub mimicked her actions.

Kurt forced his stiff legs to move. He reached for Julie, rooted to the ground. His clumsy hand grabbed hers, and together they backed away. But they were moving too slowly, breathing too loud. And then it was too late.

The grizzly raised her head. She thrust herself up on hind legs, like a heavyweight fighter readying for battle. Dirt streaked her face, masking her eyes, as she sniffed the wind for their scent.

“Don’t move.” Kurt’s tongue felt thick, his words ragged. He reached out and gripped Julie’s waist. “If she charges, I’ll distract her. Run for Cisco. Ride out for help.”

“Don’t look in her eyes.” Julie’s voice was low and urgent.

The bear’s growls deepened. She stretched higher. Her cub circled and scooted for the safety of the trees, jarring the air with his frantic bawls. Kurt scanned the meadow, desperate for a log, stick, anything. But the brilliance of the flowers mocked him. Far off, too far off, stood a stand of spruce.

Fuck.

Julie stood in front of him. So small, so innocent, and he was swept with a warrior's need to protect.

“I’m not leaving,” she whispered. “I have—”

The grizzly charged.

He grabbed her waist and jammed her behind him. “Run!” he yelled, jerking back to face the bear.

The grizzly’s head swung. Surely she wouldn't pass him to chase Julie? Panic galvanized him and he waved his arms, yelling with a voice like a stranger’s. The bear’s head turned, and her attention locked on him. Oh fuck, this wasn’t going to be fun.

Every muscle tensed as he struggled to remember everything he knew about surviving a grizzly attack.

The bear was deceptively fast. Fifteen feet away, she swerved and bolted in the direction of her bawling cub.

Oh, God, thank you
. Weak with relief, he wheeled, almost running over Julie who was frozen behind him. She hadn't followed his directions, had been too scared to move. Understandable. Adrenaline had a weird effect.

He slung her over his shoulder and rushed down the trail, ignoring the prickling of his neck and the compulsion to glance back every second stride.

Cisco’s ears pricked as Kurt rushed past with Julie mute in his arms, but the horse turned his attention back to the grass. The pounding in Kurt's chest eased. Cisco’s behavior confirmed the bear wasn’t following.

He wrapped Julie in the blanket—her cheeks so colorless her green eyes were a vivid slash. Knew he looked as shaken. The mountains loomed around them, heightening his sense of insignificance. He lit a fire, craving its ageless comfort.

“We're okay now.” He lifted her onto his lap and rubbed her stiff arms.

“Some guide I am.” She managed a shaky smile. Her hands were fisted, and she clutched a small red can in her fingers.

“What’s this?” He pried opened her fist. “Bear spray?” His voice thickened as he scanned the label on the canister. She hadn’t run at all. He should have known she had too much gumption to run. She’d had his back—and he couldn’t have asked more from any partner. “You always carry that mini-can in your pocket?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and gave a shivery nod. “A promise to Dad. Did you see the size of her claws?”

“Those claws are miles away now.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I should have paid more attention to Cisco. I think he smelled her earlier.”

She tilted her head, breath still shaky. “You realize you just stared down a charging grizzly?”

“So did you, Julie,” he said.

Their eyes locked in mutual respect, and he impulsively leaned down and kissed her mouth. Kept it quick but she tasted good, too damn good, and he dragged his head away, and pressed his face into her silky hair.

“Thank you, God,” he muttered, feeling achingly alive. She was fine, he was fine, life was fine, and every one of his senses pulsed with gratitude. A squirrel scolded from a pine tree, a hawk circled lazily. Her lips stroked his throat

“You're so warm,” she whispered.

He didn’t move, could barely breathe as she continued a slow exploration with her mouth. Up his neck, under his jaw, the side of his throat. Her breasts, her hip, every feminine curve pressed into him, seeming to scald his skin. He clenched his jaw, heard his teeth grind.

She dipped her head, tracing slow circles on his chest with her fingers, and his whole body jerked to attention, waiting on her mouth, her touch.

He trapped her hands, his voice ragged. “You better stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.” She pulled away and continued her slow torture.

He didn’t move, kept his hands clenched at his side, but his pulse beat erratically and his jaw throbbed. Her mouth was all over him now, hitting every sensitive spot, and it felt so good it hurt.

“Stop acting like a statue.” She gave him an impatient nip.

“I just want you to be sure.” Christ, he couldn’t believe that was him talking.

“Do I strike you as someone not sure?” She pulled off her shirt. Then reached down and tugged her boots off, tossing them aside with two quick thuds.

He groaned and tugged her to him, cradling her face, devouring her mouth with primal hunger and then it was impossible to get close enough, to touch her enough. He hauled her jeans down, removing them with single-minded desperation.

The skin on her stomach was soft and warm, even warmer between her legs but when her breath caught, he froze.

“It’s okay,” she said, gripping his shoulders and tugging his shirt off. She pressed her mouth back against his, but it felt like she was trying a little too hard, and he knew he should stop. Shoved away the thought.

He forced himself to linger, caressing her with his finger, rhythmic and insistent until she arched against him.

The zipper on his jeans stuck and he yanked at it, then ripped open a condom and rolled it on. Curved an arm under her hips and slowly, carefully, guided himself in. Her eyes clung to his, and he didn’t know what he was saying, but he didn’t stop murmuring assurances, didn’t stop kissing her precious face.

She deserved more time but when she impatiently arched her hips, his control shattered. He pulled her legs around his thighs and deepened his thrusts. She matched his passion, rising to meet each stroke.

She was hot, tight and wonderfully responsive. Little noises escaped her throat, and he gasped and strained until her walls convulsed around him. Seconds later, he burst inside. Shuddered and collapsed with barely enough strength to roll over and pull her on top.

He closed his eyes, spent and content. Her hand caressed his damp chest and he held her tight, wanting to stay lodged inside. Maybe have a quick nap.

“Now I know why people think so highly of sex,” she whispered.

He pried his eyes open. Her head was on his chest, her face relaxed and dreamy. “It’s not always this good,” he said. Always good but not this good. He closed his eyes again, hoping she’d stop talking.

“Why not?” she asked. “If both people…take their time.”

He cracked his eyes open, accepting that a nap wasn’t going to happen. It was always a mystery why women turned chatty afterwards, and he only wanted to sleep. “You didn’t like sex with your boyfriend,” he said, feeling slightly smug.

She wrinkled her nose and looked skeptical. “Joey and I were both young. And guilt about Mom didn’t help. It bothered Joey too.”

“You know what,” he held her hips in place, feeling a surge of resentment for the unknown Joey. “We don’t need to talk about this stuff.” History was history. He didn’t want to hear about her old boyfriend. About what they did or didn’t do. “Just accept that sex would be no good with anyone else,” he added, giving her a teasing squeeze.

“Or maybe it would be better.”

“Don't be cruel,” he said. This type of conversation was always best avoided and besides, he was more interested in her sleek curves. He palmed her breast, keeping her impaled as he skimmed a finger over each nipple, leisurely admiring her sleek body now that the rush was over.

Amazingly though, he felt himself harden. “Don’t wiggle,” he said.

She smiled. And squeezed again.

“Goddamn,” he breathed. There was no danger of him slipping out now. He'd never had anyone with such tight muscles. She licked lazily at his chest, sinuous as a cat, and he mumbled something but didn’t know what he was trying to say. Could feel himself swelling inside her.

“You okay?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Yeah,” he managed, his voice gruff. Her mouth skimmed his chest, and she continued doing that vise trick with her muscles, muscles incredibly toned from riding. Somehow he managed to keep breathing, to stay still, but it wasn’t easy.