“Fine,” I answered softly as he reached out. The second his hand touched my arm, I knew I was in trouble—his rough, calloused fingertips met my smooth skin and it was like striking a match. I leaned back and held up the folder between us. I refused to be burned by him again. I needed something to deflect him from coming any closer and I needed to leave as soon as possible. The smell of gas fumes and turned up dirt was already tugging at my nostalgia. If he came any closer I wouldn’t be able to stop him. My mouth was dry and I had to swallow hard just to speak. “I... I just need you to sign these. I need to get back to the office,” I lied.
“Yeah. Okay.” He grabbed on to the papers I was holding up and looked to his brother, who already had pulled a pen from his back pocket. Just like Hoyt. Always prepared, always one step ahead. Even as a kid, he’d always been waiting in the pits for Reid with a bottle of water and some aspirin.
While Reid was opening the folder on the seat of his dirt bike, the other rider stepped forward.
“The illustrious Nora,” he said, reaching out to shake my hand. “We finally meet. Brett Sallinger.” Brett smiled, making his eyes crinkle. The swagger that followed Brett Sallinger was hard to miss. From his long, muscular build to his messy, blond hair and blue eyes—he looked like trouble. But not the same kind of trouble as Reid who was threatening to stare a hole through me as he flipped through the pages.
“Nice to meet you,” I responded politely, wondering how he knew who I was. I knew who Brett Sallinger was. I’d be lying if I hadn’t heard Beau mention his name. While these guys were off on the motocross circuit, my boyfriend Beau had opened a race shop in Halstead. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t seem to escape dirt bikes in one way or another. I hardly ever went into his shop and the mention of Reid Travers’ name seemed to evoke more negativity from Beau than me. We both just pretended that he never existed. But I couldn’t pretend anymore. Not when he was standing within arms’ reach.
“Anything fun going on in Halstead tonight?” Brett said, breaking my gaze from where Reid and his brother were reading the fine print.
Stop staring at him.
“There’s rarely anything fun going on in Halstead,” I said, a soft laugh escaping my lips. The town I lived in was not known for its booming nightlife. We all barely managed to stay entertained as it was.
“Hmm.” Brett looked disappointed, but before he could say anything else Reid was standing beside me with the signed documents.
“You giving her a hard time?”
“Settle down, RT,” Brett answered. “I was just asking your girl here if there was anything going on in town tonight.”
“I’m not—” I tried to counter his insinuation that I was anything belonging to Reid.
“She said no,” Brett quickly added. “Zero amounts of fun to be had.” He shook his head and offered up an exaggerated look of disappointment.
“Well, let’s see if we can’t change that,” Reid suggested, a devilish grin sat on his lips. “You up for a little fun, Shutterbug?”
Just hearing him refer to me as “Shutterbug” made my blood boil. The cutesy nickname he’d given me when we were young and I had a camera permanently tethered around my neck. We were not on a nickname, friendly basis and he shouldn’t have been pretending we were. Who was he to come back to my town and disrupt my life? Reid Travers could get back on that dirt bike and ride it off a cliff for all I cared.
“No thank you.” I bit back the sarcasm that was threatening to tear from my lips, but it wasn’t missed by any of them.
“Ease up, Reid,” Hoyt warned as his brother.
“Your loss,” Reid finally said as he handed me the signed deed, holding it tightly as I tried to pull it away. “I’m a lot more fun now than I used to be. I can promise you that.”
“Yeah, well, you can keep your fun. I’ve been entertaining myself for years,” I said, yanking the papers from his hand. I turned to walk away as his brother and friend gave a collective “oohhh” and a laugh to compliment my burn, but I couldn’t join in the fun.
It took everything I had not to look back over my shoulder and see if I’d wounded him. Even seeing the tiniest bit of pain on his face would have made me feel better, but I didn’t. He didn’t deserve a second look.