“Are you alive, King?”

“Better be. I hate to think yours is the first face I’ll see when I die.” I moved my legs and arms. “Everything’s still working.” The standby medic was halfway across the track.

“Good thing you were wearing that chest protector.”

I wriggled against the hard plastic covering my chest and back. “I guess. But it doesn’t feel too great when you land on it from midair.”

Denver lent me his hand. I grabbed it, and with some effort, I sat up. I yanked off my goggles and helmet and looked around for Harkin. The asshole was on the other side. “Shit, did you see what that motherfucker did?”

“Sure did. Guess he’s not dealing too well with his has-been status, both on the track and with the girl.” Denver always knew how to put things just the right way.

I chuckled but had to stop when it made my ribs hurt. I pressed my arm against my stomach. “Damn, I didn’t even hit the handlebars, but my ribs hurt.”

“You were pretty much airborne for most of it. It would have almost been pretty if you’d stuck the landing rather than flopped on your ass. Your ribs probably just hurt from the impact. You sat up too easily for a rib to be broken.”

The medic did his thing for a few minutes and then helped me to my feet. Denver lifted and started my bike. I threw my leg over, put the helmet on the seat in front of me and puttered to the exit. I wasn’t hurt badly, but I was going to feel this at work. This was going to be one of those weeks where it would be good to be the boss.

Kensington was standing at the exit with her arms crossed around her. The look of concern on her pretty face was so damn cute to see, it had almost been worth the fall. She’d managed to snag, hold and wrap herself around my heart completely. Couldn’t fucking believe it. But it had finally happened. I’d finally met someone who I couldn’t stop thinking about.

She hurried to meet me as I rolled my bike off the track. She looked close to crying. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Hop on, baby. I’ll give you a ride back to the truck.”

She threw her leg over the seat and held my shoulders gently as if I might break. We rolled slowly back to the truck. We were the center of attention as we rode past everyone. Could have been the beautiful girl tucked in behind me or the fact that I’d just gotten taken out by Nate Harkin.

We got back to the truck. Rodeo was pacing and slamming his fist against his palm. Kensington climbed off and I followed. My back and tailbone ached.

“Let me go take care of this,” Rodeo said. “After yesterday, I’m in the mood to hit something, and Harkin’s smug face seems like a perfect target.”

I shook my head. “My battle, Rodeo. Just cool it, Mr. nitroglycerin.”

“I’m so sorry about what happened out there.” Kensington’s wavering voice floated over my shoulder.

I turned around. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, Kensie.” I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her against me. “He’s a jerk. But we already knew that. By the way, you look exceptionally cute when you’re worried. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to need some sympathy kissing and stuff when we get back home.”

She reached up and wiped some dirt off my forehead. “I guess it’s the least I can do.”

Rodeo was still pacing, but I knew he’d mellow out soon enough. He pointed to the track. “Check it out. Denver is racing Harkin.”

Denver cut to the inside and passed Harkin, but the asshole overtook him easily on the following turn. When they hit the next jump, Denver worked his anti-gravity magic. He arced up and over both jumps landing well past the second hill. He was in the straightaway, and he poured it on, managing to throw some nice dirt chunks at Harkin as he flew ahead of him.

“Whooee!’” Rodeo hollered. “That move just made my day.” Other people standing about the track cheered too.

Not feeling like dropping into one of the low foldable chairs yet, I sat up on the open tailgate of the truck. Kensington brought me a bottle of water and a couple of aspirin she had in her purse. I swallowed them back and took hold of her hand. She still looked upset.

I elbowed her lightly. “Hey, no more pouty face. You can’t take the blame for that guy being a jerk. So stop looking so sad.”

“Yeah, all right.” She gave herself a little shake. “There. Pout gone. I confess I’ve never been an effective pouter anyway. I’d try it on my dad when I was little. He’d just laugh and tell me I looked like Eeyore, the sad little blue donkey who hangs out with Pooh.”

I laughed and my sore back vibrated with pain. Kensington caught me scrunching my face.

“Maybe we should take you to urgent care,” she suggested.

“Nah. I’m just sore, and apparently, I’ve become a big wimp. I could swear I used to just walk off falls like that. Old age, I guess.”

“I have noticed that when I fall from a horse, I bounce much less than I did in my teens. God only knows what it’s going to be like when we slam the dirt in our thirties.”

Rodeo walked over to greet Denver as he rolled up to the truck. “Nice work out there, bro.”

Denver shut down his bike and took off his goggles, helmet and gloves. He walked over to get a drink from the ice chest.

Harkin left the track and was riding back to his truck. He had to pass us to get there. He slowed and glared our direction. Denver lifted his water bottle in a silent toast. Harkin pulled his bike up to its stand. His buddies didn’t look all that pleased with him. I’d always heard rumors that Harkin was a hot head who liked to stir shit up. They’d all seen the dirty move he’d played on me. A trick like that never earned you friends, no matter how many wins you had under your belt.

Kensington reached over and rubbed my back. “Those aspirin should be kicking in soon, old man. You aren’t planning to ride again, are you?”

“Think I’m supposed to get back in the saddle, aren’t I?”

Rodeo overheard me. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. They should have let me back on the bike yesterday. Now, when I get on it, I’m going to be all tensed up and nervous.”

“I was kidding, Rodeo. I’m not riding again today. And the day I see you nervous about something is the day I get a big fucking butterfly tattoo right in the center of my forehead.”

“Shit, now I’ve got to find a reason to get nervous. I want to see that.”

“Hey, our friend is walking this way,” Denver said under his breath.

Harkin’s moto boots were kicking up a cloud of dust as he stomped our direction.

Kensington tensed next to me.

“Stay right here.” I hopped off the truck and sucked in a breath to lessen the jolt of pain.

Harkin pointed his finger at Denver. “I can get your sponsorship pulled with one fucking phone call.”

“Really?” Denver asked. “Cuz, I think you’re overestimating your power these days. I’m on the way up, and you’re on the way down. I think the power is pointing my direction.” There was nothing cooler than watching Denver in action. He could take down his opponent with words. Not that he couldn’t do it just as effectively with fists. But he was, after all, a thinking man first and an FMX bro second.

Harkin’s mouth pulled to a grim line, and he turned his rage toward me. “They need to make a granny track for riders like you. You slow the rest of us down.”

“I got out of your way. But maybe since you have no fucking manners, they should make a track for blowhards who think they own the fucking world.”

“You fucking trust fund baby loser. All the rich boy toys, but no skill or guts,” Harkin sneered.

I glanced toward Kensington. This whole thing was making her uncomfortable as hell.

The last thing I wanted to do was escalate this feud to a fist fight with her watching, but it seemed like this guy wasn’t going to leave us alone.

Denver had his arms crossed, and I knew he was doing that to keep from taking a swing at Harkin himself. Rodeo was standing close by, and it seemed his fuse was already lit, the flame just needed to reach the gunpowder.