Page 5 of Ride Me Reckless
And Colt with it.
The second the trailer door closed behind me, I exhaled for the first time since the finish line.
Silence.
Then, the dull creak of metal as I leaned back against the door and let my head thump softly against it.
Dammit.
I peeled the zipper down to my hips with shaking fingers. Not from nerves—at least, that's what I told myself. It was just the come-down. The post-race adrenaline crash. Normal stuff.
Only, it didn't feel normal.
My skin burned. My chest felt tight. And my mind was stuck—looping on a man I hadn't spoken to in five years and a look that felt like a match dropped on gasoline.
I should've been over it by now.
Over Colt.
Yet, apparently, some ghosts don't stay buried.
The sound of boots outside the trailer was my only warning before the door creaked open, and Callie Hart stepped inside like she owned the place. Which, if I were being totally honest, she kinda did. Half of it, at least.
"Well," she said, kicking it shut behind her with the heel of her boot, "if that run didn't make someone's highlight reel, I'll eat my damn hat."
She dropped her tablet, notebook, and a half-empty iced coffee onto the kitchenette counter in a perfectly organized mess, then looked up at me and squinted. One hand went to her hip.
"Uh-oh."
Callie tilted her head. "What happened?"
"Nothing," I said too fast.
Her brows lifted. "Let me guess. Tall. Wears a hat like it's part of his DNA. Makes your knees weak and your attitude worse?"
I shot her a look.
"Yep," she said, peeling off her leather jacket. "That's a Colt Bennett sighting, alright. The same guy who had you crying into a bottle of ginger ale and watching baby furniture commercials at 2 AM that one night in Denver back in your heyday.”
I let out a sharp breath and rolled my eyes. “He was just standing there," I muttered, washing my face in the tiny bathroom sink. "Like no time had passed. Like he had every right to show up and look at me like…"
"Like you were still his?"
I didn't answer. I didn't have to.
Callie crossed the trailer and handed me a bottle of water from the fridge. "You knew this might happen."
"I knew it waspossible," I said. "Doesn't mean I was ready for it."
She flopped onto the bench seat with a groan and kicked her feet up. "Look, I love you—but you need to decide if he's just a ghost or still got flesh and blood in your head. Because the last thing you need right now is a distraction."
"I'm not distracted."
She gave me a look.
"Fine. I'm rattled. For a minute. But I've got it handled."
"Mmhmm. Like the time you 'had it handled' in Phoenix and ran your mouth in front of that VP from Delta Edge Racing, which ended in you being disqualified?”
