My tongue darts out and I lick his top lip. “Then stop fighting it.”
Trip slides his hands down my body and finds the hem of my riding shirt and tank-top. Soft fingers find their way onto the bare skin of my lower back before working their way up to my breasts. His nimble fingers slide inside one of the cups of my bra and he pushes it down, allowing my nipple to spring free. He rolls my tightened bud between his fingers and licks the inside of my mouth.
“I’ve been thinking about getting these titties in my mouth all damn day. I imagine everything on your tight little body tastes like heaven. Please tell me that you want this…”
I swallow hard. This is so out of character for me, but for some reason I’m drawn to Trip like crazy. I know it’s wrong to want this with him, but my body doesn’t understand that. All it knows is that this feels amazing and it can’t get enough.
I open my mouth to tell Trip to take me, but my front door opens and I freeze at the sound of Jackson’s voice. “Holly? Are you in here?”
I shove Trip’s hands out from under my shirt at the same time Jackson walks into the house and spots us. “Jackson? What are you doing in here?”
Jackson’s eyes narrow. “I came to apologize for being an asshole, but I can see you both are clearly busy.”
I jump up from Trip’s lap as Jackson turns and walks out the door. “Jackson, wait! It’s not—”
Trip grabs my wrist. “Don’t insult him by telling him it isn’t what it looks like.”
I frown. “Can’t you see how hurt he is? I have to find him.”
“Let him go, he’ll get over it. If you chase him down you might as well be ready to beg him to take you back. Do you really want him to have the upper hand in your relationship again?”
It’s second nature to chase Jackson down and apologize to him. I’ve been doing that over and over for the past year. Every time we fought, he would turn things around and everything would always end up being my fault—just like this situation.
As if Trip can read my mind he says, “It’s not you who needs to do the chasing. He cheated on
I allow him to tug me back down on the couch and tuck me under his arm. “I hate playing games with people.”
He sighs and kisses the top of my head. “You’re too sweet for your own good.”
Maybe Dad was right. We’ve just begun this little game and it’s already becoming dangerous.
Chapter 8
Trip and I sit in at the front counter together going over more financial documents. Over the last week we’ve spent every day going over some aspect of this track together. Yesterday I finally got Trip onto the track for the second time. He knows how to handle himself pretty well on a bike. I was impressed with his skills, considering he told me he hasn’t been on a bike in a few years. It reminded me of the real reason he’s here, and helped me to get over the crazy moment we shared together on the couch.
Jackson hasn’t come around the track since the fight last week. Maybe that’s for the best. It’s good to know it’s finally over and he doesn’t deem me worthy of fighting for. At least I know where I stand with him.
“I think I’m finally able to decipher Bill’s chicken scratch. It’s only taken me a week to get it.” Trip looks up from the binder full of office expenses he’s going through and asks, “Where is Bill? He’s been outside washing the bikes for a long time. Do you want me to go check on him?”
I stand and stretch my arms. “That’s okay. I’ll go do it. I need a break anyhow.”
He nods and then returns his attention back to taking notes. I glance up at the clock. Those bikes must’ve been really dirty—Dad’s been out there for nearly four hours.
The garage door is wide open and I hear water slapping the concrete around the corner. I pause the moment my eyes focus on the source of the sound. Jackson is there washing the bikes. I glance around, searching for Dad, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
Jackson notices me watching him and shuts off the water before tossing the hose to the ground. He dries his hands on seat of his pants as he approaches me. “Hey, Holl. How are you?”
I twist my fingers together. This is an encounter I’m not prepared for. “I’m good. What are you doing here?”
He shoves his hands deep in his pockets. “I came by to see you, hoping we could talk, but I ran into your dad. He didn’t look well, so I told him to go rest and I’d finish up here.”
“Thank you. That was sweet of you. He’s been like that for a while, but he refuses to go to the doctor,” I admit.
“If it’s money…I can help with the bills if he needs to be checked out. I don’t mind.”
I shake my head. “I can’t take anything from you, Jackson.”
He rubs his hand over his shaved head. “Max told me why that Trip guy is here.”
I fold my arms. “That wasn’t Max’s business to tell.”
“Don’t be mad at him. He was only trying to help. Max knows I have connections in this business. Why haven’t you come to me about this place’s money problems?”
I shrug. “By the time I found out how bad things truly were the bank was starting the foreclosure process. There’s nothing you could’ve done at that point. That’s why I didn’t go back to school this fall. Dad needs my help until this investor comes through.”
He frowns. “I wish I would’ve known that your father was struggling so much. He never said a word about it.”
“He’s too proud. It was hard for him to tell me. All year at school I didn’t have a clue either. Nothing was mentioned until I came home this summer. I had to corner him about why he was a pile of bones and always so stressed. It broke my heart when he told me.”
“What happened to all the money from last summer’s events? Did he tell you where it went?”
My body tenses and I nod. “He gave it all to
Jackson’s mouth pulls into a tight line. “You mean Grace?”
Visions of the last time I saw of the egg donor pop into my head. She came here with some skinny, grease-ball looking guy in a beat-up pick-up truck, geeking out of her mind. Her blonde hair was clumped together in sections, like it hadn’t seen water or soap in weeks, and there were red splotches all over her skin. It was so clear she chose her drug habit over everything thing else in her life—including food. She was so skinny a stiff breeze would knock her over. Nothing else matters to her—not even me—except finding a way to get her next fix. “Yeah. Dad’s been an easy mark since I’ve been away. He’s determined to believe my mother is still in there somewhere.”
“Jesus,” he mutters.
Jackson and Max are my only two friends that know all about my mother, and how my father has spent the better part of half my life trying to save her from herself. I know Trip is searching everywhere in those binders in the office for the answer for why this track is failing, but he’s not going to find it in there. There’s no place in those files for, “Give all money to drug-addict wife and ruin everyone else’s lives”.
Tears fill my vision and I drop my head and bat them away. Thinking of Grace does this to me every time. I wish there was a way to wipe someone out of your memory and life for good.
Jackson wraps his arms around me and I cling to him. “Please let me help you? Come to dinner with me tonight. I have a plan to save the track I want to talk to you about.”
I sniff. “Okay. Just as friends.”
“Of course,” he replies.
I rub my eyes. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
He doesn’t say a word, only tugs me tighter and allows the emotion to flow out of me.
