Racing Heart Read online

  Stepping outside, I breathe in the British air and let it take away some of the stress of the flight. Looking around though, it doesn’t look like much, and it definitely doesn’t compare to the sights of California. Pulling the sides of my jacket together at the front, I try to stave off the cold.

  Jesus, it’s fucking freezing. The sooner the car gets here to take us to the hotel, the better. Hopefully, I haven’t frozen my balls off by then.

  The bellboy at The Waldorf Hilton brings my bags upstairs to the suite I’m in. My roving eyes take in the extravagance of the place, and I realize that David has really pushed the boat out this time. Bray and I need to share a room, but we shouldn’t be here too long.

  “I need to go do something and get used to British time.”

  “Fuck that, I’m on USA time still, and I’m fucked. I’ll be taking a nap if you need me.” Braydon says as he enters through the door of his room.

  “You won’t do yourself any favors, you jerk. You’ll be wide awake at four in the morning…”

  He throws his middle finger up over his shoulder at me as he leaves. I’m expecting to be seeing him a little later.

  The phone at the side of the bed rings, and I pick it up, confused.

  “Hello?”

  “Have you settled okay?”

  “Well, hello to you too David. Yes, I have, I’m about to take a shower.”

  “You’ll only be here for a few days. I’m trying to secure an apartment for you both on a short-term lease.”

  “Shame, I quite like it here.”

  “Yeah, I bet you do. I would enjoy the luxury while you can.”

  “Oh, I intend to.”

  Putting down the phone, I look around the lightly aired room and the big windows at the other end. I’m way too antsy, I can’t sit here and do nothing. If I do, I’ll be asleep, and I need to stay awake as long as I can. Jumping up from the king-sized bed, I go into the en-suite bathroom and start the shower. I strip off the clothes that I feel like I’ve been in for two days and step under the spray- letting the hot water take away the weariness of travelling.

  Once I’m done, I step out of the cubicle and wrap a towel around my waist. Unzipping my suitcase, not bothering with underwear, I pull out a pair of pants and a black tee, throwing them on. Spraying some deodorant over me, I run a hand through my hair, grab my keycard, wallet and cell, then head out of my suite.

  Chapter Three

  Jordan

  The pub is quiet tonight, quieter than usual anyway. There’s a couple sitting in the corner chatting and a couple of the regulars sitting at the other end of the bar, talking sport. Yawn. The sixty-inch TV on the opposite side is showing Sky Sports news with the latest football results from the week. I suppose it is a sports bar though, I can’t really complain. I can’t really turn it over and put EastEnders on, now can I?

  I've worked here for the last two years, and to be honest, this place feels like home more than it does work. I know everyone that comes in here, and they know me. The owners of the pub know I can handle myself, and I take no shit off anyone. I have two brothers, one older who’s twenty-four and one younger that’s just turned twenty. I’m the lucky one to be sat in the middle at twenty-two. Not so much when I had boyfriends though. My brothers wanted to know their names, what they did for a living and if they ever dared to hurt me, their lives weren’t worth living. They’re not as bad anymore, they know I can look after myself.

  Growing up with two brothers has secured the fact that I’ll never be a girly girl either. I always had more friends that were boys than I did girls. I just didn’t know how to act around them. They’d be playing with dolls, while I’d be on a scooter. They would wear pretty skirts while I was wearing my comfies. I loved my jeans, shorts, and jogging bottoms, with t-shirts and hoodies. There was many a time; they looked at me like I was the odd one out, which was usually why I hung out with the lads. They didn’t care how I dressed, and growing up with boys, kind of gave me an advantage.

  “Pint please, beautiful.”

  One of our regulars and one of the few people I can call a friend, shouts up as he approaches the bar.

  Curling my lip up at him, I frown.

  “Is there a reason why you’re trying to compliment me, or are you just trying it on?”

  “I’m always trying it on; you know that.”

  Pouring his pint, I take his money from him, then walk around, grabbing some empties from tables.

  Looking up at the telly as I walk past, I roll my eyes as another footballer falls to the ground holding his head, while the trainer rubs his ankle - twat.

  “Can’t we turn it over and maybe put something else on? I’d much prefer to watch Coronation Street, than watch bollocks like this.”

  “You wouldn’t be saying that if it was rugby that was on…”

  I’m not particularly a fan of sports, but I do love rugby that I can watch.

  “What can I say, at least they’re real men.” I hold my hands out at the side of me in a shrug.

  Clutching empty glasses in one hand, I raise my middle finger at the lads as I walk past.

  My brothers are both footballers. I can’t be doing with that whole rolling round the ground, screaming like they’re going to lose a limb. Footballers are way too overdramatic, overpaid losers, who think they’re god’s gift to women.

  The pub begins to fill up by nine pm and it’s getting busier, and seeing as I’m by myself, it’s going to get even worse. Thursday nights are hit or miss, and you can’t gauge them at all.

  There are a few punters lining the bar, and I’m working my way through serving them. Starting at one end of the bar, until I’m nearing the other end. I’m pouring a pint for a customer as the door opening, catches my eye. Lifting an eyebrow, the dark-haired male struts through the place like he owns it. Stopping at the bar, he places his hands flat on it, with arms spread apart, running his hands over the dark mahogany. He looks around like he’s sizing the place up. Turning to his side and cocking a hip, he rests his elbow on the bar and seems to wait patiently. I try to keep my eye on the pint I’m pouring and not on the stranger. I pass the full pint across to the waiting customer with a smile and wait for him to pay. Then go over to the sexy stranger wiping my hands on a cloth.

  Chapter Four

  Finn

  Walking through the streets of London, I’m in awe. It reminds me a little of New York, but without the yellow cabs, instead, they’re black. There are horns sounding all over the place. Aggravated drivers are shouting at each other, and people are rushing around without a minute to spare. I hear the chimes of the infamous Big Ben and see that it’s nine pm already. I must remember that the UK is eight hours in front of California too, that’s going to take some getting used to.

  Walking into the closest place that even remotely represents a bar, I push open the door and step through into the large and half-empty room. A long oak bar lines the back wall, with all kinds of spirits in optics and beers on the opposite side. I notice others standing at the bar, and I wonder if I should grab a table, or join the others. After looking around for a minute, I stride up to the bar and wait until the redhead, that’s already serving someone, to get to me.

  “What can I get ya?” She asks in a sweet-sounding voice, as she wipes her hands on a cloth.

  “Just a beer, please, sweetness.” Giving a chin lift to her with a smirk, she raises an eyebrow. Her vivid, green orbs are the first thing that catches my eye. Those set against the porcelain of her skin and the red of her hair, make her sexy as shit.

  “Well, sweetness, what beer would you like? We have lots of beers. We’ve got Budweiser, Pils, Becks…” she puts her hands on her hips, as she waits impatiently for me to choose one. Budweiser is the only one that really stands out to me.

  “Just a Bud. Thanks, sweetheart.” I answer.

  Screwing off the cap, she places it on the bar and waits.

  “Three pounds fifty, please.”

  Looking around me, I see she can’t be speaking to anyone else. There’s no-one else in here, apart from the old guy sitting in the corner with a news journal.

  “Oh, I have to pay now?”

  “Yeah, sparky, if you’d like to drink it, that is.”

  “Can I not set up a tab?”

  Swinging her long hair around, she points to a sign at the back of her. Leaning across the bar, I read it.

  Please don’t ask for credit, as it usually causes embarrassment when denied.

  “Seriously? I’m not going to run away.”

  “Look, American boy, I understand you don’t know how this works. So, when you come to the bar for a drink, you pay before you take it away. We don’t do tabs, so that’ll be just three-pound, fifty.”

  “Don’t people trust other people in England?”

  “Honestly… no.” She shakes her head, grinning.

  “Well then, sweetness, you better get me another.”

  Pulling a barstool across, I lift my leg, propping myself on it and take a pull from the bottle. I have tonight and tomorrow to get to know my surroundings before I start testing my bike out. My first race is in two weeks, and I know it’s going to take a lot longer to get used to time zones and the weather here.

  “Tough day?” The pretty bartender bangs another bottle down in front of me. Pulling a note out of my pocket, I slide a note across to her.

  “Kind of… been travelling. So, what’s your name?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “I do.”

  She sighs, but answers anyway.

  “Jordan.”

  Swiping the ten from the bar, she turns around to the cash register giving me a great view of her fine ass in the jean shorts she’s wearing. They sit just beneath her ass cheeks, defining the flawless shape of her waist and the length of her legs. Tracking my gaze down to the floor, I take in the white converse on her feet, before noticing the large tattoo peeking through the rips in the denim on her thigh. Visions begin to assault me of her wrapping those pins around my back and letting me pound into her over this bar.

  Coins hitting the wood snaps me from my daydream, making me look back.

  “Have you finished now? I mean, would you like me to take a photo?”

  “Almost…” I wink. “Are all the women here as sexy as you?”

  She cocks a hip resting a hand on it, glowering at me.

  “Well, aren’t you just the sweet talker?”

  Rolling her eyes at my comment, she turns away to the back of the bar, once again giving me a perfect view of her long legs and pert ass. I realize I should tell her my name, at least, and offer my hand.

  “Finlay Cooper, pleased to meet ya.”

  She turns back and looks at my hand as if it’s going to bite her, she sighs and takes it anyway. Pulling it towards my lips, I place a small kiss on her knuckles. I still have some values, and I know how to treat a woman if they deserve to be treated that way. I’ve met plenty back home that just want a good fuck and be on their way. I’ll admit, there have been girls queuing up for a piece of me, of course, my star status helps that. Every female wants a piece of Finn, Fucking, Cooper and this girl could be next on my list. What a way to be introduced to the UK.

  I think I’m going to be right at home here.

  Chapter Five

  Jordan

  Sliding another bottle across the bar to him, all his change from the ten-pound note he gave me, scatters across the oak as he holds it out in front of him. Catching the ten pence pieces and pound coins as they roll across the bar, I catch the runaway change and push it back towards him.

  “Have one for yourself.”

  “I’ll just have a coke, thanks.” I count another two-pound out and ring it through the till pushing the change back towards him.

  Putting the money back in his pocket, he folds his arms and rests them on top of the bar, leaning towards me.

  “So, what do you for fun around here?”

  Shrugging, I lean my backside against the back of the bar.

  “There’s plenty of pubs and clubs if you’re into that scene.”

  “Are you into that scene?”

  “I used to love going to clubs, but I never get a night off from here.”

  I’m lost in his silky voice, so much so that I lose track of what he’s saying. I’m sure he’s trained that voice. There’s something about an accent, but hey… I’m totally against men right now. The last one was a complete tool, who loved looking at his reflection more than anything else. I should have known better than to go with someone who spends more time getting ready for a night out than you do.

  My phone vibrates on the back shelf.

  “Excuse me a sec.”

  A message lights up my screen, and I notice it’s from one of my few girlfriends, Maria.

  What’re you doing after work, bitch tits?

  Nice. If I hadn’t known her so long, I’d take offence. Smirking, I prepare to answer her back.

  Naff all, now do one because there’s a fit American at the bar…

  Feeling pleased with myself, I slide my iPhone across the shelf and casually turn around.

  “So, Finlay, what brings you to London?”

  “Actually, the British Superbike Championship. I’ve always wanted to come to the UK, so what better time when the championships season starts.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, I don’t share your enthusiasm, but hey, each to their own.”

  “So, what do you like?” He smirks.

  I don’t think I can answer the way I want to; I mean, if I told him that I’d love to be spread out beneath him across the bar right now, he may think I’m a little forward. Getting flustered by my thoughts, I drag my mind from the gutter.

  “I like rugby if we’re talking sports… I hate football, and anything else is pretty much inferior.”

  “Rugby, huh? I’ve seen some clips of that; they’re brutal, they don’t wear headgear either?”

  “Oh, they’re hardcore. Of course, their faces are a bit battered, but imagine being in the middle of that scrum…”

  Okay, I think I’ve just had a mini orgasm right in front of a stranger, a fucking fit one at that.

  Shit, sort it out, you dirty bitch… it really is time I got laid.

  From the corner of my eye, I notice him lean towards me again.

  “You know, I could help you out if you need it, call it a favour for a new friend.” He grins salaciously; I feel the heat rise in my cheeks.

  We stare into each other’s eyes for more than what’s really appropriate, and by the time I look away, I’m practically salivating. I drag myself out of my sweaty state and smirk.

  “As appealing that may sound... I have work to do.”

  He smirks, knowing exactly what he’s doing. I push my lips out into a pout. Not taking his eyes from me, he lifts his phone to his ear. I didn’t hear it ring, so it must have been on vibrate.

  Holding a finger up in front of me, he turns side-on at the bar, letting me take pleasure in his form.

  “What’s up?”

  He looks at his watch and reiterates the time to whoever he’s talking to.

  “Have you been asleep all this time. Lazy bastard.”

  While he’s on the phone, I turn to look at my own and see a text.

  Take a pic so I can see.

  Putting my phone back where it was, I totally ignore her message and spin back around.

  “I don’t know some kind of sports bar down the block from the hotel.”

  Do I remind him we don’t live or work on blocks, they’re streets and roads…? I’m such a nosy bitch, I really should move away while he’s having a conversation, but he hasn’t.

  “I don’t know, but if you’re coming, hurry up.”

  Abrupt and straight to the point, he ends the call and puts his phone away back in his pocket.

  “I need something a little stronger than this bottle of piss. I’ll have a JD and coke gorgeous, please.”

  “I’m assuming you want a double shot?” I wait with the glass under the spout of the optic.

  “Please, babe.”

  I don’t usually respond to being called anything but the actual name I was born with, but coming from him, Jesus, it gets every nerve ending tingling.

  “What time do you serve until here?”

  “About midnight, but it depends….”

  “Depends on what?”

  “On how many people are still in and whether I want to stay open until midnight.”

  “So, do you run this place?” He asks, looking around before coming back to me.

  “I’m the bar manager, but I don’t own it. In other words, I pick up everyone’s slack. Fix their mistakes and handle complaints from the bloody miserable, general public.”

  He smirks again, making me grin.

  “On the whole though, I really love my job.”

  I top up his JD with some coke and pass it across the bar.

  “Six pounds, please.”

  Pulling out a twenty from his wallet, he passes it over.

  “It sounds like it

  “Believe me, if you had to deal with the public day in day out, you’d be like me.”

  My mouth pulls into a false smile, the kind of grin where really, you’re biting down on the inside of your cheek.

  “You need some fun in your life.” He winks and I shake my head. He really does have that charm going on.

  “Yeah? Well, when you find some around here, let me know, and I’ll check it out, or are you offering?”

  Leaving the question with him and I go around the bar, walk out into the bar area, collecting some glasses up. I chance a glance back and see he’s turned around. His elbows are resting on the bar, and he’s watching me. Right this minute with his eyes on me, I’m feeling inferior, like I should get in the gym and sort myself out. I’m not fat, but I'm certainly not skinny either. I’ve always been comfortable with my size ten to twelve frame, but right now, my head is telling me I have flaws.