Hot in the Saddle (Heroes in the Saddle Book 1) by Randi Alexander

 
     
    Chapter One
    Treven Arnett pulled his white straw cowboy hat down tighter
on his head as a breeze blew across the infield of Wild Oak Speedway. The roar
of the super stock cars’ engines surrounded him as drivers jockeyed for the
lead in the race’s final laps. Dirt track racing had become his favorite live
sport now that this part of Texas had installed its very own oval.
    He’d volunteered to serve on the firefighting crew today,
and had put in his hours during the morning race. Despite all the work he
needed to get done at his ranch, here he sat, sipping a beer with another
off-duty firefighter, watching the end of the race.
    “One more, buddy?” Treven’s friend Clint reached into his
cooler and pulled out a can of brew, water dripping from both the beer and
Clint’s hand.
    Treven could almost taste another ice cold pilsner slipping
down his throat, but he shook his head. He needed to get home and get some work
done. “Thanks, but I should get moving. The horses don’t breed themselves.”
    Clint laughed as he opened the beer then ran his wet fingers
through his short blond hair. “Not in this day and age, they don’t.”
    The dozen thoroughbreds Treven owned and/or stabled on his
property three miles away kept him busy and in property-tax and vet-bill money,
but he had to work his ass off twelve to sixteen hours a day, most days.
    “Ms. Delta Pennington.” The announcer’s voice blared from
the speakers. “Our southern belle in the number thirteen car has taken third
place from Randy Vinter, and is moving up fast to challenge Beau Trudeaux for
second.”
    Treven had gotten a peek at the lovely Ms. Delta as she’d
inspected her car before the race. With her sunglasses on, he couldn’t see her
trademark eyes, but her brown hair touched her shoulders in thick layers, and
those sexy bangs blew around her forehead. She’d looked at him for long
moments, nodded, then moved on.
    Delta being the first woman to compete on this new track,
Treven hoped she’d take first, or at least one of the top positions. He liked
that she went after her passion in a male-centered world like stock car racing.
    Treven stood. “I’m gonna make my way out.” He needed to
cross the oval to get to the parking lot where emergency responders left their
vehicles. “See you next weekend.”
    “Next weekend, not before.” Clint responded, his blue eyes
going serious.
    Treven got moving, his boots kicking up dust as he strode
across the newly-planted grass. The Wild Oak volunteer firefighters kept good
karma coming their way by never admitting there might be another chance to see
each other—like a fire at a local home or business.
    The race cars circled the track for the second-from-last
lap. As he walked, Treven rolled down the sleeves on his blue denim shirt and
buttoned them, figuring he’d stop and pick up a few dozen bales of hay on his
way home.
    Nearing the oval, he slowed and waited, not stupid enough to
cross the track until the race was over.
    “Oh, lordy, look at that!” The announcer’s voice squeaked.
    Treven swiveled his head as a car spun into the infield
about fifty yards from him. He prepared to bolt one way or the other, but the
dark blue car with yellow lettering slid to a stop.
    Then exploded.
    “Fuck!” He ran toward it as flames shot out the side
windows.
    Screams came from the stands and the infield.
    “Aw, folks.” The announcer shouted. “That’s Delta Pennington’s
car.”
    Sirens blared and in his peripheral vision, Treven saw
people running toward him, but no one was near enough to help.
    He was on his own.
    He threw off his hat as he skidded around the front of the
vehicle, ran to the driver’s window, and heard choking coming from inside.
    She was still alive, but engulfed in flames.
    He didn’t have gloves with him, not the ones he’d been
wearing earlier when he was on duty, nor the ones he’d be using for hay later.
Nothing to cover his bare hands or his face.
    Taking a deep