Page 29 of Ride Me Reckless
Kenzie gave a short, sad smile. "Everything worth fighting for is. You think you're protectin' yourself by keepin' it all locked up, but you're not. You're just stuck."
I huffed, trying to laugh it off. "If you hadn't had three beers and a glittery birthday glow, you might've noticed you're too damn young for me. Tyler seemed pretty interested in you tonight."
She smirked. "Tyler's sweet."
"He's also your age."
She nodded, eyes softening. "Maybe I needed to hear that. And maybe you needed someone to tell you—go after her, Colt. Or you're gonna spend the rest of your life polishin' saddles in barns tryin' to forget what it felt like to love somebody like that."
I looked at her, this young woman who just hours ago had been a kid blowing out candles on a cake.
"Thanks," I said finally.
She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. "You're a good man, Colt. That's why I tried. And why you will still only be my coach in the morning.”
Then she turned and walked out into the dark, boots falling in puffs of dust from the soft dirt, her silhouette swallowed by the light of the dying fire outside.
I stood there a long time.
Wonderin' why the right thing still felt like hell.
Wonderin' if maybe fate really did speak—just sometimes through the most unexpected damn lips.
Chapter Eight
Borrowed Time
Tessa
The hum of engines and distant speaker crackle pulled me from a shallow sleep. My eyes opened to a shaft of sunlight cutting through the trailer's narrow window, catching on the chrome rim propped against the wall. We were back at it—Dallas. One more race. One more shot.
Callie was already up, clanging around like she was in a damn cooking show instead of a ten-by-twelve aluminum box on wheels. The smell of burnt coffee and motor oil filled the cramped air.
"You sleep at all?" she asked, chipper, too chipper, as she popped the microwave open with her elbow.
"Barely," I muttered, swinging my legs off the bed. My back ached from the unforgiving mattress and from carrying this whole operation on nerves and duct tape.
She turned, holding up two mugs like we were on vacation. "Today's gonna be different."
I gave her a look. "You say that every race."
"And one of these times, I'll be right."
I took the coffee, even though it tasted like burnt toast soaked in radiator water. "Transmission feels tight," I said. "We should push it while we've got the edge."
"Nope," she said, grabbing her tablet. "We baby that car today. Sponsors want consistency, not a burnout queen."
"If I baby it, we don't win."
"If you wreck it, we're done."
We stared at each other, the kind of silence settling between us when neither of us wanted to admit we were scared.
“This sponsorship only covers today,” I said quietly. “If we don’t win, we don’t eat. You know that, right?”
I looked away and admitted, “If I weren’t so damn stubborn, I’d ask Colt for help. But I just?—”
“I get it. Can’t say I blame you,” she said, her voice softer now, though she still wouldn’t look at me. “But let’s… not make today the day we gamble what little we’ve got left.”
