Racing Savannah

We laugh together and he glances at his watch.



“I really do want to stay…”



“Next time,” I reply, and he’s gone before I could even flirt with him. As he walks away, he glances back over his shoulder at me.



I must have the worst luck of all time. Dancing with that guy would’ve been awesome. Because damn. Right when I decide to go check out the cupcakes at the dessert table, Jack appears outside the tent.



“Who was that guy?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows.



“One of the eight thousand Whitfield cousins.”



Jack laughs and drags a hand through his hair. “So…want to dance?”



My heart stops. “With me?”



“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “We need to celebrate your work with Star today.”



Is that what Mr. Serious told his parents or something?



I shrug and let him pull me into his arms. On the outskirts of the dance floor, he and I sway together with an ocean of space between us. This is the most. Chaste. Dance. Ever. He’s not looking at me directly, but I can still feel his hands shaking on my waist. His labored breathing gives away how nervous and excited he is. Even if he’s pretending to not be interested in me, I can tell he is.



“You look pretty tonight,” he says quietly, moving a tiny bit closer to me. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last Saturday, you know, at Miller’s Hollow?”



I suck in a deep breath. This feels like a trap. A trap I kind of want to get caught in. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…



Earlier today, our fathers didn’t freak out when we were hugging after the race. Maybe us being together would just take some getting used to. But maybe it’s not completely off the table…? I mean, nobody seems interested in the fact that we’re dancing together now. Except for the eight thousand Whitfield cousins who want to talk to the girl horse jockey.



As I’m swaying in Jack’s arms, there’s only one road I want to take. The road with him standing at the end. And it’s not the easy road. I decide to be bold, to take the curvy, pothole-filled path. “I heard the Whitfields have a new litter of puppies in Tanglewood barn. Want to go look?”



A smile leaps across his face. “Get a head start. I’ll meet you there in a few.”



Without another word, I hustle over to the Whitfields’ barn, my heels getting stuck in muddy divots. I follow the sounds of crying and barking, which I can barely hear over the band’s music ringing across the countryside.



I find the dogs in a nest behind a toolbox, and when I see them nursing from the mama dog, I let out a low squeal. “Oh my gosh, you’re so cute.”



Not even a minute later, Jack appears in the barn doorway. He stops to light a lantern and carries it toward me. I instinctively take a step back then stop.



I swallow. “You actually came.”



“All you had to say was puppies,” he replies with a soft smile, kneeling to the ground.



“They aren’t even twenty-four hours old yet,” I say, squatting next to Ash’s little nest she dug out. A puppy chirps, and the mama dog moves to lick it. Seeing how much she loves her babies makes my chest hurt. Love is so simple, but so complicated sometimes.



I pet the brown and white dog’s ears. “You did such a good job, Ash.” The exhausted dog looks up into my eyes.



“She did, didn’t she?” Jack says. “What are there? Twelve babies there?”



The nursing puppies are all tangled together, wriggling and whining. “I think so.”



A slow rock song blares from the wedding tent. I must have a wistful look on my face when I gaze in the direction of the band, because Jack takes my elbow and gently lifts me to my feet.



“Dance with me.” He pulls me up against his chest, close enough that I can hear the rapid beat of his heart through his cotton button-down shirt. This dance is decidedly not chaste. Burying his face in my neck, he runs fingertips up and down my arms, melting my skin, making my toes curl.



“The wedding was beautiful,” I say. “I liked dancing in the tent with all the candles and sparkling lights.”



“Oh yeah?” Jack murmurs, swaying slowly. “I prefer this. It’s quiet and private. Not to mention puppies are present.”



He lifts my chin with two fingers and softly presses a kiss to my lips, and it feels so right it’s wrong, so wrong it’s right. I pull back, touching my mouth.



“What if someone’s watching?” I say, my eyes darting around.



“Who’s gonna see us?” He looks around the barn. “Charlie the mule? George Washington the duck? Ash the dog? I doubt Ash will notice us. She’s got twelve babies to deal with. And ducks and mules are generally stupid. But you’re right, James the pig will probably say something.”



That makes me laugh.



“I want to show you a secret,” he murmurs, slipping a hand onto my lower back. The heat from his skin burns through my dress.



“Show me,” I demand, and he grabs my hand and pulls me out of the barn toward Cedar Hill. We jog together under the moonlight, laughing. Well, it’s not so much jogging as it is him pulling me across the grass. I stop for a sec to take my strappy heels off.



We end up about a hundred yards from the manor house where Jack approaches an ancient oak tree and shows me the trap door beside it. “Wait till you see where it goes.”



He lifts opens the door, we descend a ladder, and soon I find myself in a long tunnel. Thank God Jack lights a lantern, because otherwise I’d be spooked the hell out.



“My ancestors used this as part of the Underground Railroad.” The pride in his voice is sure.



“And now you’re using it to sneak a girl into the house and into your room?”



“How do you know that’s where I’m taking you?”



“Because if you aren’t, I’ll be really pissed.” My voice comes out squeaky and excited. It’s dark in the tunnel, but there’s enough light that I can see Jack’s lips part slightly. He sets a hand on my waist and yanks me to his chest.



“I wouldn’t want to make you angry,” he says quietly, giving me another kiss. And then another.



“Jack.”



He slowly kisses my neck, teasing a gasp from my lips. “Hmm?”



“Get me out of this tunnel.”



“Yes, ma’am.” I can hear the grin in his voice.



We walk briskly and end up in a cellar with a door that leads to another cellar, which is full of rotting wooden crates. Jack takes my elbow and leads me to a narrow staircase. The paint is peeling off the walls and the stairs need polishing.



When we reach the third floor, a floor I’ve never been to, Jack pushes a door open and I find myself in his bedroom. Jack’s three hounds hop to their feet when they see him, their claws scraping the hardwood floor, but when he snaps and points at their doggie beds along the far wall, they lie back down.



The bay window is wide open, letting fresh September air and moonlight into the spacious room. Jesus Lord, it’s so big, you could probably fit, like, a bowling alley in here. His queen-sized bed is made—the plaid duvet is perfectly pressed. Little horse figurines sit on his shelves and his backpack is slung over the desk chair. A pair of dirty socks is strewn across the hardwood floor, but otherwise the room is spotless. Unlike any other boy’s room ever. The maids do their jobs.



“Does Yvonne know you have dirty laundry on the floor?” I tease, gesturing at his socks.



“Shhh,” he says, placing a finger over my lips. “She’ll hear you and want to clean up. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be disturbed right now.”



A world map covered in red thumbtacks hangs on the wall. Most of the tacks are concentrated in Italy, Switzerland, and Germany. “What’s this?”



His eyes light up when he looks at the map. “Just places I want to visit one day, you know, when I have time.”



I’ve never thought much about traveling—he and I have such different dreams, but seeing the little red thumbtacks makes me want to travel someplace romantic with him.



A pair of glasses, a bottle of Tylenol, and a picture of him and his dad with a horse sit on his nightstand. I suddenly feel really close to him, seeing his personal things.



“You okay?” he asks quietly, as he takes off his watch and sets it on his dresser.



From his shelf I pick up a little black horse figurine. I run my forefinger over its mane, thinking of Moonshadow. “Jack, you’re not gonna sell Star, right?”



He drops his chin onto my shoulder and wraps his arms around my stomach. “Not right now, no.”



“But you do sell horses.”



“All the time. It’s part of the business.”



“Do you check out who you sell them to?”



“Always.” Jack turns me around and stares into my eyes intently. “We do background checks.”



“After my mom died, I started taking care of this mare. Her name was Moonshadow.” I sniffle, remembering how she used to prance when I entered her stall. “We took care of each other.”



He listens as I tell him what awful Mr. Cates did, how he sold Moonshadow to a man who forced her to race, even though her racing days were long gone. At her second race, she stumbled on her way out the gate and broke two legs. They shot her behind the track and left her body, not caring a lick what happened to it. Dad helped me bury her in the woods behind our trailer park.



That’s why I hated rich people so bad. All they cared about was making more money. At least that’s what I thought. Until I met Jack, who cares about family and honor and history.



“I’m sorry about Moonshadow,” Jack says, hugging me. “Sounds like you were a good friend to her. I’m glad Star has you now.”



“Yeah?”



“I was torturing the poor fellow, making him spend time with boys when he hates them. I should’ve known he’s into girls. Just like his owner.”



I give Jack a playful punch on the shoulder, and he hugs me again.



“I can’t thank you enough for helping me with Star. On the way home from Kentucky this afternoon, my father told me how proud he is that I stuck to my guns. Maybe I’ll pass this test after all, thanks to you.”



“We’re a pretty good team, huh?” I reply.



“Yeah we are,” he says in a thick voice, and kisses me deeply, pushing me against the wall. We slowly make out and it hits me how right this feels, how there’s no place I’d rather be.



And suddenly things speed up in a very good way. He cups my face with both hands, watching me unbutton his shirt. He twirls me around and unzips my dress, letting it drop to the floor, leaving me in just a bra and panties. Thank God I wore my matching set today. He brushes my curls out of the way so he can kiss my neck from behind, and I wrap an arm around the back of his head, weaving my fingers in his long hair. His chest presses against my back, his heart pounding hard and wild. His hands are everywhere, softly stroking my stomach, my hips, my breasts.



He yanks his boots off, hopping on one foot to do so, then he’s kissing me again. I pull him to the bed. He falls on top of me. Our lips find each other hungrily. He holds both of my hands above my head as we kiss, trapping me.

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