Page 4 of Riding the High

I never understand why women say they’re only looking for some fun, but then the moment I pull my cock out of them, all of a sudden their expectations change.

“So you really meant just …actualfun.” She looks up at me with puppy eyes, as if that will make me reconsider. She ispretty, and the sex was alright, but anything else “us” ends when the sex does.

“Look …”What the hell is her name? Stacey?“I had fun. But we only met two hours ago, and we live on opposite sides of the country. I really do have an early morning tomorrow …”

Lacey?

“Tracey is the name you’re looking for.” She deadpans.Shit.

“Of course, Tracey,” I say. In my defense, it was loud in the bar.

I pass her shoes to her and glance at the clock. My phone call is coming in five.

I don’t have to call her a car because Tracey has a room here, six floors down. Reaching out, I take her hand.

“I meant what I said in the bar. It’s not personal, and you seem great. I’m just not looking for anything right now,” I tell her as sincerely as I can.

“Well, you have my number, so if you ever do find yourself in Colorado, don’t be a stranger,” she says as she opens the door to my suite. My whole family was here today to watch my brother Wade’s horse compete in her first prep race ahead of next year’s Kentucky Derby. Most of my family are staying the night here, except for Wade, my mother and Mabel. His girlfriend, Ivy, is six months pregnant. I never thought Wade would find someone that would put up with his grumpy ass, never mindwantto put up with it and Ivy wanted to stay in her own bed after the race. We all know what Ivy wants in Wade’s world, Ivy gets. They left right after the race to head back to our hometown, Laurel Creek, about an hour away. The rest of us, including my sister CeCe and my best friend/soon-to-be brother-in-law Nash, had dinner together before CeCe and her friends started their typical drink-more-and-dance-more routine. That’s when I decided to find some fun of my own. Hanging around to watch Ginger Danforth shake her perfect ass while every man in the barwatches her is a bad idea when I’ve had a bourbon or two. So, like I always do, I searched for a distraction—and found Tracey.

“Thanks for a great time,” I say in my most sincere tone, patting her on the shoulder. She smiles and nods, heading out the door and down the long hall to the elevators, allowing me to finally breathe out a sigh of relief. I fucking hate the awkward goodbye. As she steps into the elevator, Ginger breezes out. She takes one look at Stacey—fuck, Tracey—raises an eyebrow, then turns back to me.

“Still incognito? Giving these women your middle name,Weston?” she asks quietly, hiking a thumb over her shoulder as she passes by me. A smile plays on her full, rosy lips and her light brown eyes dance as she gets closer.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” I scoff. I haven’t done that in at least a year. Never should’ve told her that, after Gemma and I split up, I used to give women my middle name when I slept with them to make sure my business stayed my business.

She sashays right by my room to her own, and like a helpless fool, I watch her go because no one walks like Ginger. Her whole body moves in sync as if she was born on a goddamn runway. I don’t know if it’s a confidence thing or her body just gets the message from her brain that she’s sexy as hell. Either way, it’s goddamn mesmerizing.

“Don’t even think about looking at my ass, fuckboy,” she calls behind her without turning back to see if she’s right.

She is.

“Flattering yourself as always.” I avert my eyes and head back into my room to the sound of both our doors closing at the same time. Until right now, I had no idea she was staying next door to me tonight. Our rooms are fucking adjoining. Good thing she was out for the last hour.

I don’t even get fully into my room before my phone starts to buzz. Nine o’clock on the dot. I toss a t-shirt on and pick mycell up, answering the FaceTime call from the only full-time girl in my life.

“Half Pint,” I greet my daughter Mabel as her perfect little face comes into view. She’s like a happy cherub with long dark hair and my eyes. I miss her, and it’s only been five hours since I saw her last. There wasn’t a chance she wasn’t going home from the race with my mother, her Nana Jo. The two of them are the very best of friends, and Mama promised Mabel all the junk food and movies. Mabel beams at me now through the screen.

“Hi Daddy. Can I have M&Ms in my popcorn?”

I lean on my side on the bed and make a face.

“Who on earth thinks you should do that?”

“Auntie Ivy.” Mabel smiles the toothy eight-year-old grin that makes my heart squeeze. The one where her big-girl teeth are still sparse and there is another wiggly baby tooth what seems like almost every day.

She turns the phone to Ivy, whose feet are on the coffee table at the big house at Silver Pines, our family ranch. I can’t help but chuckle. She looks exhausted, and she’s getting a more pronounced baby bump by the day. My brother comes into view as he pops a squat beside Ivy and passes Mabel a bowl of popcorn.

Wade shrugs at me. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“I make Wade try all my cravings.” Ivy giggles as she shoves some popcorn and M&Ms into her mouth. I still can’t comprehend how happy Wade looks these days. There isn’t a moment that goes by when he isn’t making googly eyes at her.

“It’s yummy!” Mabel says happily. I chuckle back, slightly cringing that she’s eating chocolate at night, but she’s happy and I’d do anything for that smile. “When you come home tomorrow, can we go get my new fishing pole for the cabin?” she asks, switching gears the way kids do. She’s excited for our annual trip to Lake Charles.

“Sure can, and some new lures that are easy to put on and take off so you don’t prick your fingers.”

Wade snickers. “When you were eight, you were at the river in your bare feet hooking worms by yourself. Relax, chopper dad.”

I grin at him through the screen of my phone.

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