Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (101 page)

She wandered to the wall and studied the win pictures. Martha and Malcolm grinned back at her, along with Dino and a group of well-dressed strangers. The caption read:
Echo Beach, Lassie Juvenile Stakes, $100,000 purse
.

Echo looked energetic in this picture. Her head was high even after running seven furlongs, and she bore little resemblance to the horse that had just stumbled off the trailer. Dino obviously had reason to be concerned.

Becky peered out the door. Slim was leaning over Echo’s stall, intent on something, but she couldn’t see Dino. A scrawled note was tacked to the office door. ‘No coffee or pop in aisle.’ She left her cup and walked toward Echo’s stall.

Dino had his ear pressed to Echo’s stomach but straightened and gave Becky a reassuring smile before turning to Slim. “Gut sounds normal. No temp. She eat up this morning?”

“Yeah. Licked the feed tub clean. Like I said, she was fine when she walked on the trailer.”

“We’ll leave her alone for an hour and re-assess, but I don’t like what I’m seeing.” Dino rubbed the back of his neck, his voice troubled. “Might have to scratch.”

“Scratch?” Becky’s voice rose in dismay. “You mean she won’t run?”

“Not unless she’s feeling a hundred percent,” Dino said.

“But Martha will be disappointed.”

“We’re all disappointed.” His authoritative tone invited no argument, reminding her that he was accustomed to making tough decisions. “Shane’s finishing up the set and joining us in the kitchen. Come on. I’ll buy you both breakfast.”

“Can’t.” Slim jammed his hands in his pockets and turned away. “Gotta make some phone calls. See some people.”

Dino nodded and turned to the red-haired groom. “Don’t leave this mare alone, Red. Not for one minute. I want to know everything she does.”

“Sure, boss.” The groom brandished a wrinkled notepad. “She won’t fart without me writing it down.”

“Good. And tell Shane to meet us at the kitchen.” Dino glanced at Becky, his voice lightening. “Let’s go then. Been looking forward to breakfast with you.”

He was looking forward to breakfast with her? ‘Me too,’ she wanted to say. But her tongue felt awkward.

“I’m eager to see if you can eat as much as last time,” he added.

Her happiness flattened, replaced by a rush of disappointment. She wasn’t as slim as the women he was accustomed to, and she did love food, but it was demoralizing that her healthy appetite was what drew his attention.

“Maybe if you didn’t hang out with so many skinny riders, you’d realize how normal people eat,” she said.

“Relax. I’m kidding you.” And his warm eyes did look teasing. “Want to drive or walk?”

“Walk. I like seeing all the barns.”

“Good. I like that too.” His smile was so infectious, her disappointment slid away. They stepped from the barn and into the slanting sun. She slipped on her sunglasses and walked beside him, enjoying his commentary on the other barns and horses.

A gray filly was entered in the same race as Echo. They lingered, watching as a groom led her around the sandy tow ring.

“That horse is sure feeling good,” Becky said as the gray squealed and kicked out in a series of playful bucks.

“Yeah.” Dino gave a rueful sigh and turned away. “How did Echo really look when you left Conrad’s? Were you there when Slim loaded?”

“Yes, and she was full of energy. It was Chippy who was quiet.”

“Odd,” Dino said. “Chippy loves traveling. Can’t run very fast, but sure thinks he can. You positive it was Chippy, not Echo?”

Becky frowned as she pictured the horses. It had been dark, and she wasn’t quite certain she could tell them apart. “Pretty sure.” But she wrinkled her nose, wishing she could be more help. Dino was definitely worried about the filly’s condition. “Maybe Echo just needs a strong coffee.”

Dino chuckled. “Coffee tests.”

She blinked in confusion. “Slim said the same thing. What does that mean?”

“After a race, the winner and a random horse have to give a urine sample. Ten drops of coffee and a horse will test positive for a stimulant.”

“What happens then?”

“Trainer’s in big shit.” Dino took her elbow and guided her up the walk to the kitchen. “And that’s never good, so Echo has to get on the muscle without any help from me.”

His hand was large and warm and as usual, just the touch made her stomach do funny flips. “I see,” she said, determined to keep talking intelligently even though her body had turned traitor. “What does ‘on the muscle’ mean?”

“Hot to trot. How a horse should look before a race. How Lyric felt right before we galloped up the hill.”

He released her elbow, pulled open the door and thankfully her brain cleared. “I see,” she said. “Well, it seemed Echo was on the muscle this morning, and Chippy wasn’t. But Slim had to tell me the horses’ names. All I know about Echo is that she eats carrots slowly.”

“I never thought of Echo as a slow eater,” Dino chuckled, “but maybe she is, compared to some ladies I know.”

She jabbed him in the ribs. He didn’t seem to notice, and she rubbed her elbow. Clearly that jab hurt her more than it hurt him. He was rock-hard, like one of his conditioned Thoroughbreds. Probably had one of those washboard stomachs, conveniently designed for women to rub their fingers over, the type of stomach she’d never experienced before, had never even touched—

“You have a wistful look,” he said, still smiling. “Thinking of pancakes?”

“You guessed it,” she said, but a hot flush climbed her cheeks.

***

Dino shook his head as he checked the dozing filly. “You mean she’s been lying down the whole time?”

“Yeah, boss, but she’s not sick or in distress.” Red flipped open his notebook. “Vitals are good. She’s just dog-tired.”

Dino yanked his Stetson lower, hiding his expression. He trained a few laid-back horses who could nap through any commotion, but Echo wasn’t one of them. Normally she’d be pacing the stall, primed and eager to run. Once she’d even jumped over her door. Her excessive energy was one of the reasons he and Malcolm had never stabled her at Lone Star. Obviously she wasn’t in any shape to race today.

Damn, this sucked. Martha needed the race, needed the encouragement a win would give, but a bad race from a classy filly like Echo would be worse. And it certainly wouldn’t help the horse and whatever health issues she was fighting.

He blew out a reluctant sigh. “We’ll have to scratch. Call me when the vet comes. Are Becky and Shane back from the kitchen yet?”

“Haven’t seen them,” Red said.

Dino sighed again and stalked from the barn. Slim was slouched in his pickup, oblivious to events. Dino rapped his knuckles on the window. The man twisted, fumbling with his cell. He said something in the phone then cut the connection and opened the door.

“You look guilty,” Dino said. “Must be hitting on my ex-wife.”

“I don’t even know your ex,” Slim said, scrambling from the cab.

“Slim, I’m messing with you.” Dino shook his head in exasperation. The man was so uptight, he seemed ready to explode. Didn’t seem to be sleeping either. His eyes were baggy and his jeans sagged. “Just wanted to let you know I’m scratching Echo,” Dino added mildly.

“What! You can’t scratch her.”

Dino stiffened, surprised by the man’s passion. Usually Slim was taciturn, but now he was downright animated. “Wouldn’t be fair to run,” Dino said. “She’s been lying down for the last couple hours. That’s not normal. Not for her.”

“The filly’s fine.” Slim slammed his truck door. “And the old lady really needs the win.”

“Martha,” Dino automatically corrected. “And I thought you of all people would be glad to scratch. Safer for the horse, safer for the jock. ”

“No one ever worried about Jill.” Bitterness laced Slim’s voice, and he jammed his phone in his back pocket.

“I know you’re worried about paying for your daughter’s care,” Dino said. “But if we have a few good races, Martha will hang on. Maybe she won’t sell at all. And it’s better to scratch than have a bad race.”

“Doesn’t matter what we do. We all know she’s going to sell. Especially with that nurse poking around. Running back and spreading stories.”

Dino flexed his hands but couldn’t control the tightness of his voice. “Please refer to our employer as Martha. And the nurse’s name is Becky who, by the way, supports what we’re doing. She’s potentially one of our biggest allies. We have to be nice to her.”

“Yeah, well, I still don’t think you should scratch.”

“Then it’s good you’re not the one in charge.” Dino’s jaw hardened. He twisted, pausing when he saw Becky only ten feet away, coffee cup gripped in her hand. Her eyes were a stormy brown, and she looked disappointed, almost hurt.

“You heard?” he asked. “We’re going to scratch.”

She nodded, stiff with disapproval, a stark contrast to the lady he’d earlier shared breakfast with, the lady who’d gaily devoured a stack of syrup-soaked pancakes. He liked her smile way better than that closed stick-up-the-ass expression. And since she’d seemed to really care for the horses it was disappointing she’d still want to race Echo.

“Sorry you made a wasted trip.” He crossed his arms, surprised her reaction bothered him. Owners and their reps were an odd bunch. He’d thought she’d approve of the scratch. Report favorably to Martha. But now it appeared her interest in the horses’ health wasn’t totally genuine.

“The trip wasn’t a waste,” she said. “I can still watch Chippy.”

“Yeah, race three. Only a claimer though.”

“Chippy doesn’t know that. I imagine he’ll be happy if he wins.”

“Yeah, he probably will.” He studied her cautiously, uncomfortable with the bite in her voice. Lately, she’d dropped that aloof air and he liked it. He didn’t want her mad, and he especially didn’t want her mad at him. “There’s no choice here but to scratch,” he added. “Martha might give you some grief, but I can call and explain.”

“It’s okay. Shane already told me something must be wrong. That Echo is usually hyper at the track.”

“Which is why she shouldn’t run. But maybe you can still enjoy a few races.”

She nodded but her voice remained cool. “After you left the kitchen, Shane and I walked around the backside and went over the
Racing Form
. He gave me lots of betting tips. Told me what to look for.”

“Yeah. You two were gone awhile.” Dino checked his watch, surprised at his irritation. He’d asked Shane to show her around but hadn’t expected them to buddy up for half the morning, and clearly her mood had drastically altered. Shane was a born flirt. Maybe he’d come on too strong. “Shane is going to be busy with Chippy now,” he said evenly. “Want to watch the race from the rail or should we go up to Martha’s box?”

“Dino!”

Danielle rushed toward him with a reporter’s single-minded zeal, camera man tagging behind. “Heard a rumor you might scratch,” she called.

Amazing how she could sniff out stories. And how willing she was to take advantage. He crossed his arms and forced a polite nod. Didn’t want to give her any encouragement. She’d cornered him at the bar a few nights ago but her ruthlessness turned him off. Her type always had an agenda, and they tended to turn nasty when things didn’t pan out.

“I have to consult with the owner now.” He edged toward the barn. “We’re still deciding.”

“Okay but talk to me first.” Danielle flashed him a confident smile. “And I’ll buy the drinks next time.”

“Sure,” he said, keen to get back to the privacy of his office where he could call Martha. “You two coming?” He glanced back at Becky and Slim.

But neither of them moved. They stared at Danielle as though mesmerized.

Dino paused. The reporter was gorgeous and always impeccably dressed, but surely they could see she was poison. He definitely didn’t want her chatting them up, wheedling out information. So far though, she hadn’t acknowledged their presence, had even turned her back as though they were inconsequential.

The sides of his mouth twitched. If she knew Slim and Becky were from Conrad’s, she’d be all over them, including them in her lethal charm. They didn’t need that. He didn’t want Becky even breathing the same air as Danielle.

Protectiveness filled him. He cupped Becky’s elbow and herded her toward the barn. “We need to call Martha before she hears the scratch on the news,” he whispered. “I’ll talk to Danielle later.”

“I’m sure you will,” Becky said, her tone flat.

He scanned her face. As usual, her chestnut hair was loose, partially hiding her expression, and he fought the impulse to tuck it behind her ear. She was so cute when she wore a ponytail, when she showed her face. Why had he ever thought her plain?

“What I mean is,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “we have to watch what we say around that kind of reporter, that kind of paper. They’re more interested in gossip than horse racing. They like trouble. And that’s the last thing Martha needs. Just leave Danielle to me.”

“Of course,” she muttered.

He realized he was still holding her elbow even though they were safely in the barn. Reluctantly, he lowered his hand. “Look. I just don’t want her to badger you or Slim about the Conrad operation.”

Becky rolled her eyes. “She didn’t seem interested in badgering me. Or Slim. Just poor little you.”

“That’s because she doesn’t know who you or Slim are. And quite frankly, I don’t like her badgering.” He winked. “Let’s hide in the office.”

He checked over his shoulder for Slim, but the man wasn’t in the shedrow so he closed the office door and pulled out a chair for Becky. “I’ll call Martha now. How’s she feeling?”

“Tired, a little apathetic.” Becky sat down, her voice thickening. “Hard to get her to eat.”

It was clear she doted on Martha, clear they shared much more than a working relationship. “How long have you worked for her?” he asked, still holding his phone.

“Three years.”

“I’ve been with Conrad’s almost a year but don’t remember seeing you much.”

“Maybe you didn’t notice me.” She stared at him with level eyes. “Another nurse, Greta, worked weekends and she enjoyed going to the races.”

He yanked his hat lower, remembering the nubile Greta and some other things she’d enjoyed. “Were you around when Slim’s daughter had her accident?” he asked, keen to change the subject.