6. Rivals

SIX

RIVALS

I Did Something Bad, Taylor Swift

Santiago

This girl is giving me whiplash and I am not even trying to chase her. I’m too old for this. I’m thirty, for fuck’s sake, but there is definitely something about her. I can’t help but feel a pull to her. Maybe it’s the fearless way she talks or her perfect crystal blue eyes.

I can’t believe that she rides. I actually can believe it because I just watched her steal my bike. I don’t know why I’m surprised. I know nothing about her. What I still can’t believe is that the tiny thing could ride my beast of a bike like it was nothing. Pretty badass, actually. I shake my head and put my helmet on, wiping the smile off my face so I can go ride.

We’ve been riding for hours, just taking water breaks every now and then. During a race, I can’t just stop in the middle of the trail so I try to treat practice the same way. We realize we won’t make it all day with the temperatures, so we decide to call it and start loading up.

I haven’t seen Roe all day. Unless you count the spark of pink and black gear as she blazes around the track. It’s almost impossible to miss anyone out here in general so she either hasn’t taken any breaks from the heat, or she left while I was still riding laps. I need to stop worrying about her and focus on me if I want to be successful this round. This is my year; I feel it in my bones.

The trailer is packed, bikes secured, and our gear is off and hanging from the railings inside the trailer. Marco ran inside the office. While I wait for him, I lean against my truck’s door, eyes on the track trying to find Roe. I was so astonished seeing her here that I didn’t even notice her number. Marco says he’s never seen her here before but from the looks of it, she doesn’t mingle much. Maybe she just comes to ride and leaves, but her Jeep is still here so she’s either riding or hiding. I don’t take her as a hiding kind of girl, so riding it must be.

“Lose something, Saint?” I hear her voice from behind me, so I turn and see her walking toward me. Her face is covered in sand, especially around her cheeks and nose, typical for an open-faced helmet like the one she uses. Her braids, which were previously pulled perfectly tight, are now loose with strands of gold flowing around her face. Her black jersey covers most of her body and has the number 114 in sparkly pink, front and center.

“Saint?” I raise my eyebrow at her.

“Apparently nobody has anything negative to say about you, and that doesn’t happen around here, so you must be exactly that: a Saint. It also happens to fit your name.”

“I just moved here, that’s why. There’s plenty of bad in me, I can assure you.” I wink at her and that earns me the sassiest eye roll I have ever seen. There she is .

“Santiago Cruz, twenty-eight, YZ-250, two-stroke. Likable with good sportsmanship. Refuses to work with brands that are not transparent and helps kids get started in the sport when possible,” she adds, as if she was reciting my stats from the Trail Riders website.

“Did you Google me?” I ask with a broad smile on my face.

“I did, the minute I saw you and I were racing in the same category in a month. I needed to find out how big my competition is this season since I’m moving up classes. And to my surprise, my competition seems to be you, Saint.”

“Are you riding The Trail Riders?”

“Yeap.” Roe pops her ‘p’ as if she’s a toddler being inconvenienced by my mere existence. The brat. “I rode last season too but I was in the women’s class. We both know that class is more recreational and I’m looking for more. This industry, at least in TTR, advertises the women’s class as a pastime. I won every time, but I’m ready to compete with people who are actually racing, not out there frolicking through the meadows.”

“Hold up, hold up,” I choke out, trying to gather my thoughts because my chuckles won’t let me form a coherent sentence. “You rode last year, won every round, and somehow that’s a bad thing?” This woman is something else.

“Am I speaking in a different language here? Yes, that’s what I said. That’s not the point. The point is, it seems like you and a couple other riders will be the biggest pain-in-my-ass, but neither of them ride at SMX, only you apparently.” Her hands go up to her hips before adding, “This is my track. If we are going to share it, we need to lay down some rules.”

“Your track? What the hell are you talking about?” I’m still reeling from the fact that we will be racing together soon but she keeps spitting out facts left and right without giving me the chance to gather my thoughts.

“This is where I train. This is my safe space. I don’t need to be on high alert here, too. Worrying that you might be messing with me to get me disqualified.”

“Roe, it’s just a race. Nobody is that evil,” I urge.

“Actually, people are. But you, with your Saint complex, wouldn’t know. I’ve worked too hard to make it where I am. I don’t own the track so it’s not like I can forbid you from coming, and Allen is too damn nice to take my side. So, here’s how it’s going to work.”

I have reached my damn limit with this woman. Before she can give me more ultimatums, I pull her by her wrist, turn her body and lean her by the truck. My hand caging her in, and my body pinning her to the truck. I lower my face next to her ear and I can hear the gasp she tried to hide. We have chemistry, so I’m using it to my advantage. “Here’s the deal, Aurora. Nobody sets rules for me. Nobody tells me what to do. And if you’re going to act like a spoiled little brat, at least let me use that to my advantage. Because believe me when I say, I can teach you a lesson on how to be a good girl.” My finger traces her chin. “I get that this is your space and I am new or whatever, but I am not out here to make you my enemy. If what you’re saying is true, then we are rivals. Big fucking deal. The track is big enough for the two of us, just like the trail is. Stay in your lane and I’ll stay in mine.”

My hand slides lower, tapping her neck and collarbone slightly and her skin breaks into goosebumps right under my fingertips. “I would never do anything to get a competitor out of my way. When I win—make sure you hear this loud and clear because I will win— it will be fair and square. You’re just going to have to deal with it.” I run my finger back up her neck and pull back, leaving some space between us so I can see her face. She looks at me partially in shock. Like nobody has ever cut her off and put her in her place before. I touch her bottom lip lightly and the little minx barely parts her lips. And before I can do anything about it, she bites me. Hard.

“Fuck,” I curse.

“Stay out of my way, Saint and we’ll be fine.” She tries to push away from me but when I won’t budge, she hits me with her dainty fists right on the chest.

I grab them both and say, “Whatever you say, Princesa.” I move out of her way and let her walk past me. She keeps walking without turning around, leaving me in the dust twice in one day. This time I keep my eyes locked on her and see the name right above the number on her back, in big sparkly letters, A. Sorelle. Fuck me.