Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (121 page)

Cody was still holding Echo, and she glanced longingly past him at her car. She could leave a message. Go now, make it easier. Dino didn’t want any entanglements and, of course, neither did she. Her feelings wouldn’t be bruised just because he didn’t have time for a trail ride on the morning after.

“Mr. Anders asked me to groom and saddle Hank, but I didn’t get Lyric ready,” Cody said. “He thought you’d want to do that yourself.”

She swung around, propelled by such relief she couldn’t stop beaming. He still wanted to ride.

“He asked me to clean Lyric’s feet for you though,” Cody added. “She’s touchy about her hind end. Pushy around the door too.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Becky said, still smiling. “I don’t need any help.”

“You sure? I’d be glad to help.” Cody’s gaze drifted over her chest and she edged back a step. The new T-shirt dipped lower than usual, but Martha had assured her it was perfect. Still, she wasn’t comfortable with form-fitting clothes and the way men looked at her. Except for Dino. She was quite comfortable with all the ways he looked.

“No, thanks. I’m fine.” She smiled and headed into the barn, eager to brush Lyric. It was ironic that earlier the grooms had been indifferent, but now when she didn’t need any help, they were attentive. All because of a haircut and some new clothes—another thing about which Martha had been absolutely correct.

“Well, I’ll be close by,” Cody called. “Holler if you need me.”

She waved and bounced down the aisle. Tried not to look at the security cam but wondered if Dino watched and fought a rush of self-consciousness. Of course, there was always the chance he was busy with the new rider—going over schedules, signing waivers and employment contracts. Or maybe they were just enjoying a chat and coffee, getting to know each other. Maybe they were getting really close.

Stop it
. She shoved open Lyric’s stall door. Obviously she couldn’t worry about every single girl. She wouldn’t have worried yesterday, before she slept with him, before she had expectations. Besides, she’d already noticed that most of the time it was the girls who flirted with him. He was merely nice to everyone, just like he’d been nice to her, back when she’d been invisible.

God, she must have been a pain. It was uncomfortable when Slim didn’t talk or smile, and that was exactly how she’d been. No wonder people hadn’t been friendly.

She was so preoccupied, Lyric almost escaped, pinning her ears when Becky pulled the door shut.

“Oh, stop.” Becky slapped Lyric’s chest, forcing the mare back. “I know you’re bluffing.” She picked up the hoof pick, determined to banish Dino from her thoughts, at least for five minutes. Besides, Lyric wasn’t the type of horse one should daydream around. It was doubtful she’d kick without reason, but she did have a spiteful streak along with an extremely sensitive spot on her belly.

Lyric’s soulful eyes darkened with reproach but she lifted both front feet, standing stock-still even though she wasn’t tied.

Becky moved to her hindquarters, careful not to touch her flank, and the mare obediently lifted her hind leg. “You’re a good girl,” Becky said softly before moving around her rump and cleaning the remaining foot.

The mare blew out a resigned sigh, ears flicking back and forth, but otherwise remained motionless while Becky brushed her sleek coat. Obviously she preferred not to be tied, or maybe it was Slim’s kicking that had made her belly so sensitive. Or maybe she just didn’t like men.

Footsteps sounded. Becky moved to the front of Lyric’s stall and glanced over the door. Must be Tracey. The dark-haired woman was tiny, attractive and walked with athletic grace. Friendly too. She nodded and smiled at Becky. The whip sticking from her back pocket gave a jaunty air. Becky’s heart sank as Tracey sauntered down the aisle and disappeared into the sunlight.

Lyric gave Becky an impatient nudge, obviously not as impressed with the new rider.

“You’re right. I can’t worry about every one of them, past, present and future,” Becky muttered, resuming her brushing.

“If you’re talking to me, you’re going to have to speak up,” a familiar voice drawled.

She wheeled, heart thumping. Dino leaned over the stall door, eyes enigmatic. Obviously he’d shaved; the rakish morning stubble was gone although his skin was still dark with its perpetual tan. His mouth curved in a sexy smile, and his jaw hinted of aftershave.

She licked her lips.

His eyes darkened and he opened the door. Swooped in and covered her mouth with a hungry kiss. He tasted of coffee and aroused male and when he finally raised his head, his breathing was ragged. “Damn, I got it bad.” He buried his face in her hair before checking the aisle and reluctantly backing away. “We’re still on for dinner tonight, right?”

She nodded, unable to speak, her body still humming from the intensity of his greeting. And she felt foolish for worrying. He wasn’t the type to fake it. When he didn’t want her, she’d know.

His hot gaze skimmed her body. “Leave Lyric’s halter on beneath the bridle. We might find a quiet spot to dismount and…rest the horses.”

***

Dino shook his head and relaxed in the saddle, shrugging off Becky’s repeated challenge to race. Stephanie had obviously given some riding tips, but there was no way she could beat him. Even though Lyric was faster than Hank, Becky didn’t have that killer instinct. Couldn’t crouch over her horse’s neck and ride for her life.

“No, I don’t want to race,” he repeated, tightening the reins, keeping Hank at a sedate walk. “Don’t want you in a bad mood for tonight,” he added, liking how she blushed.

“Losing won’t put me in a bad mood.” Her eyes widened as though shocked at such a suggestion. “I’m not at all competitive.”

He grinned at the absurd statement. Or maybe he hadn’t stopped grinning since he’d seen her this morning. She was so damn sweet, so refreshing. The sex was damn good too, and no doubt that was the reason he couldn’t stop smiling.

Or maybe it was other things, like her mouth. He loved the way she slid it over him, the feel of her beneath his hand, how she really listened when he spoke. And unlike his ex-wife, she was incapable of guile, incapable of tricks—except she erroneously thought she wasn’t competitive. Everyone wanted to win.

“Honey,” he said, “you don’t stand a chance of beating me. And it’s not fair to Hank to always hold him back.”

“So you
were
holding him back that day.” Her voice rose and Lyric tossed her head, as if sharing Becky’s indignation.

“I’ve been riding all my life,” he said. “Hard riding. I can get a hundred percent from a horse. You’re maybe working with sixty.”

“Okay, so I’m a hack rider.” But her mouth set in a stubborn line as she studied Hank. “But what percentage would Lyric need to beat him?”

“This isn’t math.” He chuckled but she looked so serious, he sobered. “At least eighty percent. Hank has a bit of run, for a short distance. But we’re not racing. In fact, we’re going to tie the horses under that big oak tree and relax. I have food in the saddlebags and some cold beer.”

And hopefully they’d relax more than a bit. Tonight seemed a long way off; he was already semi-erect remembering how her legs wrapped around his hips, the sweetness of her breasts beneath his mouth, her throaty moans.

She raised her chin. “I think you’re scared to lose. Maybe we should just go back and have a slow walk around the paddock.”

“Aw, honey.” He dragged his wistful gaze off the trees. Her nose was still stuck in the air, and her expression had definitely turned mutinous. “I don’t want to race. There are so many other fun things we could be doing.”

“But I’ve been practicing.” Her nose tilted higher. “And you don’t think I’m worthy enough to race. If I was one of your other women, you’d race in a minute.”

Oh, Christ
. He straightened, staring stiffly through Hank’s black-tipped ears. Why did they always steer the conversation around to other women? “But you’re not a jockey or an exercise rider,” he said carefully. “I don’t want you to get hurt. And I’m not in the mood for a fake race, not today.”

“It won’t be a fake race. Just a gallop to that stream over there.”

“We can’t run there. It’s full of rocks. Hard to slow down, dangerous for the horses.”

“All right.” She pounced on the opening. “We’ll just run to the big oak tree.”

Which was exactly where he wanted to end up. “Okay.”

“But we don’t dismount unless you win,” she added.

“Sure,” he repeated, hiding his smile. He’d make sure he won, just by a length or two, anything to keep her happy. It would be cooler under the trees, and he’d have her all to himself. He’d even turned off his phone.

“And if I win, you get rid of all that shampoo in your bathroom.”

He blinked. “What are you talking about?”

She wouldn’t look at him, seemingly intent on straightening Lyric’s mane. “I really thought your other women wouldn’t bother me.” Her voice was so low he could scarcely hear. “But it does. I don’t care who you have at your Lone Star apartment, but I care what you do here.”

A bead of sweat tickled his forehead, and he lifted his Stetson and wiped it off. She seemed to have an inflated opinion of his social life. He wasn’t such an ass that he would drag another woman home, although it appeared that kind of behavior at his apartment was okay. And that didn’t make sense. Either she minded or she didn’t.

“No women at Conrad’s place?” He forced a careless chuckle. “That’s a wasted bet. There won’t be any other women. Not while I’m seeing you.”

“But what’s your definition of seeing someone?”

Definition?
Christ. Why did women have to dissect something that was supposed to be fun? Pain throbbed behind his temple, and a tight smile cut his face. A mockingbird sang, emphasizing the quiet. He had the urge to kick Hank into a lope and escape over the hill.

But she was staring at him, taut as a bird dog on a trail. “I don’t have definitions,” he said. “I only know I’m not getting married again and I’m not looking for a permanent relationship. If that’s enough for a woman, we go from there.”

“But where is there to go? How can you not want a home? Someone to love?”

She looked so puzzled, the pounding in his head slowed. Of course, he wanted a home, and after Echo won tomorrow, he’d buy back his ranch. But someone to love wasn’t critical. Laura’s cheating had left him soured, and racing had enough challenges to keep him occupied.

He yanked his hat lower and flicked his reins to the other side of Hank’s neck. She still stared, her eyes wide and curious. He didn’t want to disappoint her, didn’t want her to expect something he couldn’t give, but it wouldn’t hurt to open up a bit. Generally he avoided talk about his busted marriage, but she had a concrete core of loyalty that he appreciated.

“Seeing my wife unhappy hurt like hell,” he said, “but I couldn’t give up training. That’s my job and I love it. She kept bugging me to quit. I couldn’t provide what she wanted so she found it with another man…a few other men.” His jaw tightened but he kept talking. “Some trainers are big enough to balance family and job. Big enough to make sacrifices. I’m not one of them.”

“Maybe your marriage would have worked if you two lived closer to the track.”

“We tried. Didn’t matter.” His mouth lifted in a wry smile. Many nights he’d dropped over to the barn to check on a sick horse or just to share a beer with the boys. Laura had often gone to bed livid. And then she’d just gone to someone else’s bed.

He shrugged. “When my parents retired, we bought their ranch hoping it would help. Laura was a barrel racer, and I thought she’d enjoy riding again. We had a few quarter horses but by then, she’d lost all interest. Preferred city life. She’s still living at the ranch though, waiting for me to buy her out.”

“I’m sorry,” Becky said.

“Well, I’m not.” He yanked his hat lower. “Horses are easier. And it helps knowing I’m going to own the place soon. It’s a distance from Lone Star but I’ll make it work. Pick up a nice mare or two. I’ve got a breeding right to Hunter after he’s retired.”

“So Malcolm
did
make side deals on breeding?” Becky’s voice rose. “Do you have it in writing? Because Slim didn’t, and I think he and Jill were supposed to get a broodmare.”

Dino relaxed, settling deeper in the saddle. Anything was better than talk of relationships and the number of shampoo bottles beneath the sink. He hadn’t looked under there in ages, didn’t realize women noticed stuff like that. He’d thought it weird they all left their junk in his bathroom, but it simply hadn’t mattered. “I don’t know much about Slim’s side deals with Malcolm,” he said, “but unfortunately if Slim didn’t get it in writing, there’s not much you can do about it.”

“I might show the file to Martha though.” Becky’s voice turned thoughtful. “It’s pretty clear Malcolm intended to give Slim a share of Lyric but was so upset about Jill’s accident, he didn’t want the mare bred. According to Slim, Malcolm was going to substitute Echo.”

There it was again, her complete generosity of spirit. He hid his skepticism but considered Slim an idiot for not having the clause added to his contract, and he’d never ever met Jill. Unlike Becky, he didn’t get all warm and fuzzy over strangers, no matter how sad their life story. And Slim’s claim to Lyric seemed a mite shaky.

He sighed. Of course, Slim might be telling the truth or at least believed it to be the truth. Malcolm had been in vigorous health, his heart attack totally unexpected. Slim would have trusted him completely. Probably thought they had plenty of time to flesh out a deal.

But life had changed on a dime. Now Martha’s health was in a tailspin and the very existence of Conrad Stable in jeopardy.

Which was the pits for Becky. She was devoted to Martha and obviously considered the estate her home—her desire for security no doubt the result of a rocky childhood.

“You should start thinking of yourself instead of worrying about Slim,” he said. “And I doubt Ted is going to like anyone chipping away at his inheritance. Echo’s worth millions—only a drop in the Conrad bucket, but he won’t want to give her away.”