Racing Savannah

Chapter 15. Taking the Road Less Traveled

Church bells ring at Westwood Chapel for Will Whitfield’s wedding.

Rory, his younger brother Trey, and two other guys I don’t recognize dressed in tuxedos are serving as ushers, seating the female guests.

“Wow, you look great,” Rory says, sticking an elbow out. “I’m glad you got all that mud off your face.”

“You ass.”

“You aren’t supposed to say ass in church, S.”

Smiling, I take his arm and let him escort me to a pew. I’m still giddy from the race a few hours ago. I’m on such a high, I feel like I could slam dunk a basketball. Jack wants me to be his jockey in the Dixiana Derby!

Along with an ace bandage to mask the hideous bruise on my shin, I wore a green silk dress that belonged to my mother. It’s really beautiful and not mom-style at all.

The Goodwins sit a few rows in front of me. Jack sits between his mother and Shelby with his arms stretched around them across the pew.

I run my fingers over the beige wedding program laced with blue ribbon. It reads:

Parker Anne Shelton + William Connor Whitfield

Vanessa walks into the church and looks around, clutching her wedding program. I wave at her then pat the seat next to me. One of the ushers—a guy with loose curly blond hair that reaches his shoulders—sees Vanessa and gives her a big hug before escorting her to my row.

“Thanks for letting me sit with you,” she whispers, rolling and unrolling her wedding program. “I wasn’t sure if I should come.”

“Why not?”

“I mean, Rory invited me, but it’s not like we’ve been going out all that long. I haven’t met his parents yet.”

“It’s fine—his family will love you. Besides, I just met Rory, like, a month ago, and they invited me. Who was that guy who you hugged? The super hot one.”

“Oh,” Vanessa says with a smile. “That’s Sam Henry. He played football with my brother in high school—but don’t even think about going after him. He was single for like a year, but he’s very much taken again now.”

Will steps out in front of the crowd. A few guys whoop at him, and he pumps his fist, making a lot of the little old ladies in the congregation gasp in horror.

“Oh my God, Will is so hot,” Vanessa mutters to me. “Maybe when the minister asks if anyone objects to this union, I’ll jump up and down and holler a lot.”

“I bet Will’s fiancé would tackle you.”

“True.”

“Rory would probably tackle you too.”

“I wish.” She fans herself with the wedding program.

Rory joins Will at the altar; he keeps patting his breast pocket every three seconds—I guess he’s terrified he’ll lose the rings, and if I were Will, I’d be a bit worried about that too.

Instead of organ music, a guitarist begins playing and a beautiful girl with long black hair starts down the aisle, being escorted by a man. They both stop on Parker’s side of the aisle, and the guy doesn’t sit down or move to Will’s side. I open my wedding program. A girl named Kate Kelly is Maid of Honor. And for some reason a guy named Drew Bates is a bridesmaid…? I giggle, loving that she has a guy bridesmaid dressed in a tux.

“Rory looks nice,” I tell Vanessa.

“Agreed. He should wear tuxes all the time.”

“Even on the farm?”

“Even on the farm.”

Suddenly everybody stands and we turn to watch Parker walk down the aisle, carrying a handful of wildflowers. Her creamy dress is very simple and made of lace. It has short, capped sleeves and hangs above her knees. When I get married, I don’t want anything extravagant—I want a dress just like that. She’s not wearing a veil and her long messy brown hair reaches her waist and is all over the place. Will beams and looks like he might cry.

The ceremony is short, but hilarious. Rory, of course, misplaces the rings and spends over a minute searching his pockets. Parker and Will don’t seem to care, as he cups her face, laughing. They never stop smiling, even when the minister accidentally calls Will “Bill.”

And then it’s suddenly over with a “You may now kiss the bride” and for some God awful reason, Rory yells “Get ’er done,” which makes Vanessa bury her face in her palms. The guys in the congregation leap to their feet and cheer and basically act like a pack of hooligan monkeys.

Rory and I ride in Vanessa’s Mercedes to the reception in the Whitfields’ backyard. Glittering lights hang inside a big white tent and tea lights dot the tables. They serve fried chicken and mac ’n’ cheese and lots of other yummy foods on the buffet. An awesome band plays rock music as people alternate between eating and dancing. If I ever get married, I want a wedding just like this.

There really are, like, eight thousand male Whitfield cousins here. With all the floppy brown hair, it’s like a boy band convention, and a bunch of them want to meet me, the “girl horse jockey.”

Rory sneaks two entire bottles of champagne over to us and smuggles the evidence under the table. He and Vanessa start drinking the champagne, giggling like crazy as they feed each other bits of food. I accept a tiny bit of champagne—I don’t want to mess up my training tomorrow morning with a hangover.

Rory and Vanessa keep stealing kisses and somehow end up snuggling under the table with their contraband champagne—and with the options being 1) sit alone at our table, 2) sneak under the table with them (awkward!), or 3) get the hell out of Dodge, I find myself outside, circling the dinner tent, looking back and forth between the dancing and the stars.

The beautiful Maid of Honor is dancing closely with a guy who dared to wear flip flops. A ginormous engagement ring glimmers on her hand. I wish my life could be that perfect. Will and Parker are swaying right next to the couple, laughing and talking to them. The hot usher, Sam Henry, is dancing nearby with an extremely tall blond girl. She looks very much absorbed with the hot usher. For good reason.

Jack is dancing with his mother, twirling her around. I gaze over to Mr. Goodwin’s table to discover him sneaking a hot dog while his wife is busy. It’s like Jack knows I’m thinking of him, because he looks over his mom’s shoulder, gazing at me. Scanning me up and down, studying my forest-green silk dress. He slowly starts to smile and holds up his pointer finger, telling me to wait.

What’s that supposed to mean? What am I supposed to wait for?

That’s when Will Whitfield jogs up and I hug him and tell him congrats.

“Have you seen Rory?” he asks, scanning the tent. “It’s nearly time for the toasts.”

“Uh, you might check under that table over there. He’s drinking champagne with Vanessa Green.”

Will’s mouth forms an O. “Maybe we won’t have a toast from him then.”

“That’s probably a good idea. It’d probably just be a repeat of ‘Get ’er done!’”

“My mom is gonna kill him for that.”

“Who’s that couple who was dancing with you and Parker? The beautiful maid of honor girl.”

Will looks over his shoulder at them. “Parker’s best friend, Kate, and her fiancé. We’ve been friends with them for years. Since right after high school, actually.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s funny. I nearly went to prom with Kate, but I liked Parker more. I can’t imagine what life would be like if I’d made a different choice. It would’ve been so easy…but so wrong, you know?”

I nod, feeling my eyes burn. It’s like that Robert Frost poem I read in Mom’s Compendium of Poetry book. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…The narrator had to choose which path to take—just like we all do.

An older guy, one of the eight thousand Whitfield cousins, approaches, smiling.

“This is my cousin, Alex.”

“Hey,” the guy says, shaking my hand. “I’m about to take Meemaw home,” he tells Will and gives him a guy hug. “Congrats.”

“By the way,” Will says to me, “there’s a new litter of Springer spaniel puppies in Tanglewood barn. They were born just this morning to my dog, Ash. Maybe one of them will like you,” he says with a chuckle before heading back over to his new wife. His cousin Alex smiles at me. A genuine, sweet smile.

“I wish I could stay for a dance with you, but Meemaw is getting tired. I’m her ride.”

“Aw, that’s cute.”

“You know what they say—grandmas before girls.”

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.

“How am I supposed to unbutton your pants if you won’t let my hands go?” I ask with a tiny voice, shaking all over.

“Not until I’m finished with you.” He kisses a trail from my neck down to my stomach. “So that’s where it is,” he says, kissing the horseshoe tattoo on my hip before smiling up at me.

“Are you wearing a belt buckle that says cocky?” I peer down at his waistband.

“Oh, um…”

I roll my eyes, smiling like crazy. “Would you get back to kissing me already?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, diving back in. I kiss the sensitive hollow of his neck. His pulse races beneath my lips. I bite his ear and his neck, as we squirm under the covers, our legs twisting together.

“Not too hard.” He pauses to smile at me. “My parents will kill me if I show up at breakfast with a hickey.”

“Oh.” My face flames devil red.

“I’ll give you one instead,” he says, nipping at my neck. I laugh and try to pull away, but he snuggles me closer beneath the blankets.

We make out for ages, as he presses against me and rocks his hips, slowly at first, then faster and faster, and then he finally pushes past the elastic of my panties, to touch me for real. I love it, and can’t stop murmuring his name over and over. I reach between us and unbutton his pants and tug his boxers down, exploring where he’s hard and silky.

“I think you like me,” he says, grinning.

“You’re okay,” I tease.

“Just okay?” he murmurs, tickling me, making me squirm and laugh. “Just okay?”

“Fine.” I touch his cheek and return his gaze, feeling so many feelings. “I like you so much,” I say quietly, and he reaches over to his nightstand, opens the top drawer, and pulls out a condom.

I’m out of breath, panting—about to tell him I don’t want to do this yet, as he begins to slip my underwear down, when I hear a noise.

This house is so old you can hear every creak and groan, especially from the hardwood floors. The boards squeak—someone is coming up the stairs.

“Hide!” Jack whispers, throwing the bedcovers back, jumping off me, and fastening his pants. He rushes to his dresser and fishes out a T-shirt.

I grab my dress and shoes and catapult myself into the closet. It’s bigger than my goddamned bedroom. I hide behind one of Jack’s suits and try to listen to what’s happening out in the room. Nothing yet. I take the arm of Jack’s suit jacket and bring it to my nose, loving its guy smell. God, I’ve become a complete psycho.

I clench up when the knock sounds on the door.

“Come in,” Jack says.

“Just came to say good night,” his mother says. “You left the wedding early.”

“Are you alone?” Mr. Goodwin asks.

A heartbeat. “Yeah, just tired. Gotta get up early.”

After a long, heart attack-inducing silence, Mr. Goodwin says, “All right. Sleep well.”

“I love you,” Mrs. Goodwin adds.

“Love you too,” Jack says, and a second later I hear the door click shut. I hide beside Jack’s cowboy boot collection for several minutes, until the closet door finally swings open.

“Sorry about that,” he whispers, reaching a hand out. I grab it and pull him to the floor. He laughs as he crawls up between my legs. From his pocket he whips out a red lollipop—one of the fancy ones you can only get at the Cracker Barrel. I hold it against my chest. I’ll save it for a special occasion.

“You’d better get down to Hillcrest,” he says quietly, helping me to my feet.

“Jack?”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t return my stare. He’s too busy running a thumb along the underside of my bra.

“All I want is to get back in bed with you.”

He pushes me against the closet wall and our mouths meet again for another passionate kiss. “I’ve never—” he starts. “You and me—I’ve never felt like—” He doesn’t finish his thought. He slams his lips against mine. When he pulls away, I feel his absence, like when I eat toast without butter.

“Jack? You’re not dating anybody, right? Not Abby or Kelsey or some famous person’s daughter, right?”

He chuckles. “Naw. I had a girlfriend…Jenna Lukens…we broke up.”

“Why?” I whisper.

“My mom introduced us. And I liked her a lot at first…But Jenna went to this private school up on Monteagle Mountain and we didn’t do the long-distance thing so well, and she ended up cheating on me.” His face turns a rosy pink. “And she was all sorts of drama. Always wanted me to buy her gifts and stuff.”

“So you want somebody low-key?”

“I do.” Jack nudges my nose with his. “Listen, if my dad catches you here, he’ll roast me like a shish kabob.”

“Mmm, I love shish kabob.”

“I’ll grill for you sometime.”

“As if you know how to use a grill. You’re a kept guy.”

He grins mischievously. “I’ll prove you wrong.”

He picks my dress up off the floor, dusts it off, and holds it out so I can put it back on. I pull my hair to the side, and he kisses my back as he zips my dress.

He turns me around and we kiss again until he murmurs breathlessly, “God, you’re beautiful.”

I didn’t know how bad I needed to hear that until he said it. He already had me in his bed wearing only my underwear. He didn’t have to say I’m beautiful.

But he did.