Page 3 of Ride Me Reckless
Good.
I went back to watching her. Tessa had pulled into the pit area now, popping out ofRecklesslike she hadn't just made the entire grandstand hold its breath. She was all lean lines andconfidence, dragging the zipper down on her fire suit like she didn't care who was watching. But I knew better. Tessa never did a thing without intention. That zipper was for someone. The question was, who?
"You know," Rhett said casually, "I always liked her. Hell of a driver. Too bad she had to break your?—"
"Don't."
He held up both hands like I'd just pulled a gun. "Alright, alright. You don't wanna talk about it. Got it."
I rubbed my thumb along the edge of the fence post. The wood was old, sun-bleached, and cracking from years of exposure to the sun and wind, just like the place. Just like me.
It wasn't that I didn't want to talk about her.
It was that I didn't know how to talk about her without tasting bile in the back of my throat.
Tessa looked right at me.
Or at least I thought she did.
Hard to tell with the lights and the noise and the smoke curling in the air like ghosts. But for one hot second, I swear Tessa's eyes locked with mine across the crowd, dead-on, sharp and cutting, like they used to be when she was about to tell me exactly what she thought, no filter, no sugar.
Then she turned.
Fast. Too fast.
Like I wasn't even there.
She headed toward the edge of the pit, hips swaying with purpose, helmet swinging in one hand. Her fire suit hung half-open now, exposing a black tank top stretched over those curves that still haunted me in the middle of the night.
Yet, it wasn’t the way she walked or the way the crowd parted for her that caught me—it was something else. Something in her face. Like she'd seen things since me. Lived through 'em. Lostsomething, maybe. But Tessa Walker didn’t wear grief out in the open. She buried it deep, same as I did.
She didn't wave. Didn't nod. Didn't stop.
Just kept walking.
As if I were a groupie in the bleachers, not the man who used to know her better than anyone.
I let out a slow breath that felt like it rattled right down to my boots. That look—or the lack of it—cut deeper than a clean break. It felt personal, even if it wasn't.
Hell, maybe that made it worse.
Rhett gave a low whistle beside me, his voice pitched with something between amusement and pity. "Well damn, son. That was colder than a dead snake in snow."
I didn't bother answering him. What was there to say?
He shifted his weight, folding his arms again, but he didn't press. That was the thing about Rhett—he could be an arrogant jackass, but when it counted, he knew when to shut his damn mouth.
The roar of the next heat echoed down the track, but I didn't care who was racing now. The crowd surged with fresh energy, but my gaze stayed fixed on that silver trailer at the edge of the pit—hers. Tessa's sanctuary. Her fortress. The place where she'd slam the door, lock the world out, and pretend none of this ever touched her.
I'd known she'd be here. I'd stared at that damn flyer until the ink bled into my memory. But I hadn't been prepared for what it would feel like to see her again.
Not like this. Not looking through me like I wasn't even dust on her boots.
I ran a hand over my jaw. Thought about the way she used to tease me about my beard. How her fingers would scrape over my jaw before she pulled me in.
That was a long time ago. A different man. A different life.
I kicked at a patch of dirt by the fence post and watched the dust scatter into the air like it had somewhere better to be.
