Cole Page 2

  He laughed. “I know you spend enough time in the saddle to get confused, but I don’t want my daughter to be sound. I want her to be healthy and safe and not heading for a middle-aged life plagued with arthritis and joint pains.” He rubbed his back. “Trust me, it’s not fun.”

  I shook my head. “Yep, climbing in and out of those rowdy golf carts and lifting up those high-ball glasses can be pretty hazardous.” Aside from a short stint of time when I was thirteen and I knew absolutely everything, I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t get along well with my dad. Mom was a different story, but the older I got, the more I learned to accept her quirks. And she mine. “Well, we’re going to head out. I’ll be up at the house to get back to work in an hour.” After college, I’d gone straight into working for the Modante Winery. I’d always looked forward to being a part of the business, and my accounting degree had been a perfect match.

  “All right, see you in a bit.” Dad turned but then stopped and tapped his head. “Wait, I knew I came out here for a reason. Jeez, senility, not a pretty thing. Anyhow, a dozen red roses came for you. Think it’s that motorcycle hot head, Harkin.” His characteristic eye roll followed the name.

  “No wonder it slipped from your head. You conveniently like to forget he exists.”

  “Not true. I just think Keith is a better match for you. He’s already a junior partner at the law firm.”

  “At his dad’s law firm,” I interjected. “Besides, Nate Harkin makes a lot more money racing motorcycles than Keith makes sitting behind his massive mahogany desk. Keith’s a nice guy, but I glaze over when he starts talking. He doesn’t make me laugh. He doesn’t make me feel anything.” I thought about the last few times I’d been with Nate. He’d made me feel small and crappy and I’d just about ended it. The roses were obviously an apology attempt. “Unfortunately, Nate isn’t scoring too many points lately either. Sometimes I think I’ll never be happy with anyone, Dad. And the weird thing is, I’m all right with that. I think.”

  “I blame myself, Kensie,” Dad said in a completely serious tone. “I’m the male model in your life. So you’ve had to set the bar very high.”

  I smiled. “Yes, that is the problem. Actually, that statement is not all that far off the mark. Mom was lucky the day you wandered into her designer shoe path. I just wish someone perfect would wander into mine. And I’m not asking for much, but Prince Charming would be a good start.” I lifted my foot away from Bentley’s side. “And instead of designer high heels, he’d have to be all right with poop covered riding boots.”

  Dad’s mouth curled up into a hopeful smile. “What about Mark Levi’s son, Tyler, admittedly he’s no Prince Charming, but—”

  “Dad, stop playing matchmaker and stick to what you do best—winemaking and keeping Mom happy.” I blew him a kiss and turned Bentley toward the trail.

  Chapter 3

  Cole

  A bored Denver had walked back into the house long before deciding who’d caught the most air. The sun was bearing down pretty good, and I was about ready to call it a day too. I dropped my goggles around my neck and yanked off my helmet. I ran my fingers through my hair. It stood straight up with sweat.

  Rodeo rode up next to me and pulled his helmet off too. He had to talk loudly over the stuttering bike motors. “I’ll race you around the perimeter of the property, along the dried riverbed and back to the garage.”

  I looked down at the helmet in my hand. “Can’t put this back on. Think my head is swelling from the heat.”

  “Leave the helmets. We’ll take it easy.”

  “Right. You don’t know how to take it easy, Rodeo, but I’m game.” We rolled over to the wall and set down our helmets. Then we lined our front tires up. The property ended about three acres out. The landscape beyond the border was choked with tall weeds and spindly shrubs, the only plants in nature that could survive a drought. A shallow ravine that occasionally filled with water during one of the rare rainstorms neatly split my dad’s property off from the Modante vineyard. I was sure they hadn’t appreciated that the property next door had remained vacant, ugly and dry, like a neglected desert, for years.

  Rodeo looked at me through his dusty goggles and nodded. I grabbed some throttle and took off. I wasn’t in the mood for massive brain trauma, and it seemed Rodeo felt just as naked without his helmet. The race idea quickly faded. It was no fun racing unless you could go balls out, full throttle, and since we weren’t on the track, it was hard to know when you’d come upon an unexpected obstacle.

  I slowed down first and even Rodeo, who was rarely slowed by the worry of injury, dropped down to cruising speed.

  Rolling along the back side of the property, you could catch more of the Pacific Ocean breeze, a constant source of relief in an otherwise hot place. The beach was about a twenty minute drive, and during the triple digits of summer, Rodeo, Denver and I had gone down to the coast to body surf in the evenings after work. My dad had always planned to build an elaborate estate complete with mansion and pool on the property, but since it’d never happened, we had to rely on the beach to cool off after a long, broiling day on the work site.

  October brought with it the promise of less heat, and I looked forward to cooler weather, both on the construction site and at play. Motorcycle gear kept you safer, but it also made riding in the heat hard.

  Rodeo fell back to ride across the ravine and pop a few jumps off the lip, but I was done with tricks for the day. Even though my real love was racing motocross on a track, Denver and Rodeo had coaxed me into giving freestyle a try. Now I was hooked. Flying through the air on a motorcycle was the ultimate challenge to Earth’s big control freak—gravity. Gravity had landed me in the emergency room more times than I wanted to remember. With freestyle, I was challenging my greatest enemy even more, but the thrill of pulling off a trick and landing it smoothly was worth the risk.

  I coasted along wishing it was just a few degrees cooler and dreaming about a cold beer back at the house. On one side, the deep green grapevines of the winery covered the small hills in precisely spaced lines. The house and riding arena were no longer visible.

  I’d taken the crazy bet with Rodeo mostly because it added some fun to life, but the truth was, I’d known and dated more than my share of rich girls. They were always a disappointment. With the exception of my sister, a rare, quirky bird for sure, most rich girls were so full of themselves and so damn spoiled, they weren’t worth the time or effort. I’d taken a long shot bet that was for sure. I was certain that if I ever got past the hurdle of figuring out a way to meet her, I’d be so turned off, I’d probably end up just forfeiting and handing Rodeo the pink slip. That Corvette was pretty damn sweet though. I had to at least give it a shot. An invite to our Halloween party seemed the way to go, but I had a feeling she’d turn her nose up at the idea. Especially if I couldn’t even use my famous name as a lure.

  I tightened my gloved hands around the grips and turned off along a path that led through some oak trees. It was the only patch of shade along the entire back of the property. Branches, dead leaves and acorns, the early signs of fall, snapped under my tires as I rode through the shadowy stretch of trail. The copse of trees ended abruptly at an outcropping of granite, and I made a quick right to avoid the rocks. Between my eyes adjusting to the change in light and the dust smeared across my goggles, I didn’t see the horse and rider until I was nearly up the horse’s butt.

  The animal reared up. I turned sharply, applied the brakes too hard and went flying up and over the handlebars. In the midst of my flying trapeze act, as I waited for the jolt of pain, I saw the rider bail gracefully, landing on her feet for a second before falling in almost slow motion to her bottom. I smacked the ground, and the wind shot out of my lungs. I shut my eyes against the pain. The ground vibrated beneath me as I heard the horse trot away.

  “Fuuuck,” I groaned with my first gasp of
breath.

  I lifted my goggles away from my face and turned my head to the side. The girl pushed to her feet. Even in my state of agony, I watched with interest as she dusted off what looked to be an exceptional ass. Shit, Finley was right. I was a degenerate. And now it seemed I was out one Corvette. My end of the bet had just reached a level of impossibility that even my skills couldn’t conquer.

  I moved my legs, which was a good sign. When I landed, I hadn’t heard or felt the sickening reverberation that always accompanied a broken bone. Another good sign. And I’d been thinking about the girl’s ass, so I seemed to be thinking straight. With no helmet, I’d been damn lucky.

  I pressed my hands against my ribs, gritted my teeth and sat up. Long legs tucked inside tall black boots stomped toward me, and I braced for a tongue lashing.

  “Are you all right?” Her tone was soft with worry instead of brittle with anger.

  “With the way you basically stepped off a giant rearing horse, and I, on the other hand, flipped like a rag doll over my slow moving bike, I’m only suffering from a bruised ego and shattered confidence.” My boots dragged along the dry ground as I brought my feet closer. A spike of pain shot through my ass. “I take that back. My tailbone is bruised along with my ego.”

  I squinted up at her as she yanked off her helmet and pushed her sunglasses up on her head. Her face was still blotted out by the bright sun behind her, but then she crouched down next to me. The breath I’d just recovered got knocked out of me again. Almond shaped green eyes blinked at me with genuine concern. And as beautiful as her eyes were, it was hard not to stare at her lips. Fucking Denver. He had his nose tucked into his computer screen too much. A head turner. She was far more than that. My head wasn’t just turning it was spinning.

  “I forget what I’m supposed to do in this situation.” She held up her hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Not sure but you have four of the cutest little freckles on the tip of your nose.”

  She sighed. “You’re fine . . . and apparently your ego is back along with your confidence.”

  She straightened and lowered her hand for me to take. She put a little more strength into the hand up than needed, letting me know that she was a touch pissed after all. The girl was tall and lean like a model, but her riding breeches and tight t-shirt still hugged a nice set of curves.

  She cleared her throat. “If you’re through checking me out, I’m going to go look for my horse.” She was a dark brunette with glowing, sun-kissed olive skin that made the green of her eyes look like pale jade.

  “Sorry, I don’t usually gawk like a fool, but you are even more beautiful than I expect—” I zipped my mouth shut.

  She lifted a smooth dark brow at me.

  I smiled. “Guess that sounds a little creepy as if I’ve been stalking you or something.”

  “Now that you bring it up, yes, creepy is just the right word.”

  I pointed back toward the house. “My friends and I were out riding dirt bikes, and I was watching you riding your . . . And I’m not digging myself out of this hole am I?” My hand swept in the direction the horse had run. “I guess we should find your horse, and possibly forget about the last part of this conversation.” I yanked off my glove and held out my hand but quickly withdrew it. I wiped the sweat off on my shirt, which was almost equally soaked with sweat. I stared down at my hand and lowered it. “I’m Cole King—Kingston, and I would just like to add that I’m not usually such a knucklehead when I meet an extraordinary girl.” I pointed back to my bike. “I think that fall knocked some of the suave out of me.”

  “It seems to have caused you to forget your last name as well.” She smiled. It was the kind of smile that you never forgot. She held out her gloved hand. I shook it. “I’m Kensington. Friends call me Kensie.”

  She started heading in the direction that the horse ran.

  “I’ll help you find him, since it was my fault.”

  “I’m sure Bentley headed back to his stall. He’s a little food obsessed.”

  I walked along next to her, feeling my tailbone bruise with every step. “By the way, that was impressive, the way you just stepped off that horse. I’m really glad you didn’t get hurt.”

  “Years of practice,” she quipped. “I might add that your dismount was equally impressive, if not a little less graceful. But impressive nonetheless.”

  I rubbed my ass. “Yeah, I think I’m going to be sleeping with a pillow under my butt for a few days.”

  Rodeo stepped around the copse of oak trees leading the horse. “Whooee, Cole, that was some trick. I was riding along, and I looked up ahead wondering what ole’ Kingston was up to and thought ‘are my eyes deceivin’ me or are those Cole’s Fox Racing boots flying up in the air’? Turns out, nope, they weren’t deceiving me at all. I give that an eight out of ten, taking off a few points for the thudding sound you made when your ass hit the ground.” He reached me and lifted his fist for a bump, which I ignored.

  Kensington stepped forward and reached for the reins. Rodeo had finally zipped his mouth shut and had turned his attention to her for the first time. His mouth dropped, and he gawked at her as if she couldn’t see him ogling her. Continuing with the delusion that he was completely invisible to the girl standing directly in front of him, he looked at me. “Is this—?”

  “Hey, Rodeo, this is Kensington. She lives next door.” I shot him a look to stop him from saying anything else stupid.

  He seemed to understand my cue. “Right. How are you? Nice horse by the way. Warmblood?”

  “Yes, Oldenburg. Thanks.” She took the reins. “Rodeo? Are you a cowboy?”

  Rodeo beamed. Even though his new love was motorcycles, he always jumped at the chance to talk about horses. “I was breaking colts before I could spell the word horse.”

  “Which, with some practice, I’m pleased to say, he has finally learned along with some other one syllable words.”

  Rodeo inclined his head toward me. “He gets a little touchy after he’s flown over the handlebars of his bike.” He smacked my arm and the snap of it vibrated the pain in my back. “Hey, did you invite our neighbor to the Halloween party? You’ve got to come. It’s this Saturday, and it’s clothing optional.”

  Even with a sore back I managed to return the smack. “Idiot. It’s costume optional.” I cast her one of my infamous Cole King smiles. It was the same as my dad’s, only mine didn’t come with the rest of the Nicky King glow. “You should come. It’ll be fun. You can even bring a date. Or not. That would be good too. And I’ll just shut up and leave it at that because for some reason, and I’m blaming it completely on the dramatic fall from my bike, I’m sounding like a complete fool.”

  She smiled and walked around to the side of her horse. “That’s really nice of you, but I don’t think so.” She pulled herself into the saddle and gazed down at me with those pearly green eyes. I was hoping for a ‘really nice to meet you, Cole’. “You should probably go home and take some aspirin for that bruised butt.” She pulled the reins and turned her horse around. We watched as she trotted toward home.

  Rodeo came up next to me and clamped his hand down hard on my shoulder. “I’m thinking electric blue instead of cherry red.”

  I smacked his hand away. “I need a beer . . . and a fucking aspirin.”

  Chapter 4

  Kensington

  I heard the motorcycles buzz in the distance. Bentley hardly noticed the sound. Now that his muzzle was pointed in the direction of the stables, he had only one thing on his big horsey brain and that was food.

  I glanced back toward the sound. A long trail of dust followed the two riders as they rode off. I hated admitting it to myself but I’d found Cole interesting, or, at the very least, appealing in a shallow, charming way. Even though fair hair and eyes wasn’t usually my type, he was undeniably
handsome with an expensive, perfectly straightened smile, the one boy next door concession to an otherwise typical muscular, tattooed bad boy appearance.

  We reached the gate to the inner yard. I climbed off Bentley’s back and pushed up the irons. The incident on the trail could have ended a lot worse. I was relieved everyone had walked away from it smiling. Now that the usually vacant property next door was occupied, I was going to have to keep my ears and eyes open on the trail.

  I led Bentley into the barn and put him in the cross ties. I’d left my phone on the bench in front of his stall. It was blinking with a new text from Nate. “Call me.”

  I put the phone back down just as it rang. I answered. “Your text said for me to call you. Which I was planning to get around to eventually.”

  “Come on, Kensie, you’re not still mad at me, are you?”

  “To be honest, I’ve hardly given it any thought at all.”

  “See, you are pissed. Did you get the roses?” A feminine giggle followed his voice through the phone. I wasn’t fooling myself. Being a Supercross champion had earned Nate a large following of female fans, and I’d come to grips with it. At the same time, I wasn’t completely convinced he was worth the effort of coming to grips over anything, especially other women.

  “My dad mentioned something about some roses coming to the house, but I wasn’t sure who they were from. I’m still in the stables. And my horse is pawing at the ground. He’s hungry, and I need to unsaddle him.”

  “Let’s go to dinner tonight, sweetie. I want to see you.” Another giggle punctuated his words.

  “Jeez, Nate, it sounds like you’re sitting in the center of a school bus filled with teenage girls.”

  “Nah, Kyle and Trey are here with some friends, that’s all. What do you say about dinner?”

  “I’ve got a lot of work to do. Another night, Nate.”