Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (122 page)

Becky’s expression shadowed, and he regretted mentioning Ted. The man was an asshole, circling like a vulture, and his association with Slim was worrisome.

“No,” she said, “Ted definitely isn’t happy when Martha talks about giving away horses. But it’s not fair that Slim gets nothing, especially with a high-needs daughter. By the way—” her words came in a rush, “Martha asked that Slim be able to stay in his house until he finds another job.”

“Absolutely not. I don’t trust Slim near the horses. Or with you. He’s already fired. I told him to be out by the weekend.”

“But she wants him to stay. Slim was Malcolm’s most loyal employee.”

“Maybe. But we both know Slim isn’t loyal to her.” Dino kept his voice level. “If you explain the situation, she’ll understand that he has to go.”

“But I can’t tell her that. She’d be shattered.”

Dino swallowed his frustration. News of Slim’s treachery certainly wouldn’t improve Martha’s health, but the truth was the truth. “I don’t want him around here. I can’t prove it, not yet, but there’s something rotten going on.”

“But you have the surveillance. Echo runs tomorrow, and all the other good horses are stabled at Lone Star. There’s really not much he can do. Not anymore. Please, Dino. I don’t want Martha upset. I couldn’t stand it if something happened to her.”

A fat tear rolled down her cheek.
Fuck
! He leaned over Hank’s shoulder and wiped it away but another took its place. “Goddammit, don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying.” She twisted from his touch, swiping at her face. “I only wish you’d consider people for a change. Not just your precious ranch.”

He jerked upright, feeling like he’d been sucker punched. It was always that way with women. Open up a bit, tell them something personal and they’d throw it in your face. She didn’t understand how much he wanted his ranch, had probably never lived anywhere longer than a few years.

The silence between them turned brittle, accentuated by the horses’ steady breathing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way,” she finally said. “Of course you want your ranch, but I want Martha to live another twenty years. And I’m worried about her reaction. She’s accepted that you don’t want Slim as a foreman but she wants him to stay here until he finds another job. I think she feels a little guilty…and maybe for good reason.”

Dino dragged a hand over his jaw. If only Slim had come clean today. He’d badgered him this morning, trying to make him admit he’d cut the stirrup leather, that he’d sponged Hunter, even let Lyric loose, but the man had remained stubbornly silent. His expression though, when pushed about his relationship with Ted, was chilling. Since neither of the two men would benefit from the plummeting value of Martha’s horses, it seemed any sabotage was purely vindictive. In his book that was even worse.

“Becky,” he said, using his most reasonable tone, “it’s not safe to let Slim stay. And it’s not my job to think beyond that. I’m not here to worry about Martha’s reaction.” She shot him such a reproachful look, he flinched. “I didn’t mean it like that. Of course I worry about her. Just not the way you do.”

Hank pranced and jigged, acting like he wanted to run, and it took a moment to settle him back to a walk. Dino blew out a sigh, trying to relax his body, trying to hide his frustration from both her and the horse. But Becky’s back was now ramrod stiff and it looked like someone had shoved a pole up her ass. Any hope of a recreational pit stop now seemed wildly optimistic.

Lyric was happy though, prancing beside Hank. Becky’s breasts bounced with each of the mare’s steps, and her jeans accentuated her shapely rear. It was a simple matter to mentally strip her. However, she shot him a glower as though sensing what he was doing, and he averted his head.

“We’re still on for dinner, right?” he asked, his voice slightly husky.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Once I tell Martha you kicked Slim out, she’ll probably need my company. No, I expect to be busy tonight.”

“That’s not playing fair.” He pulled his hat off and swiped his forehead with the back of his arm. It wouldn’t kill him not to see her tonight. A day. A week. He could wait. Goddammit though, he wanted her now.

He adjusted himself in the saddle, annoyed at his erection, hoping she wouldn’t notice. Wished she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Next time he’d have to do better. Damn but he hoped there was a next time.

He shoved his hat back on, adjusted it to the correct angle, and glanced longingly at the oak tree. Drew in a big breath. “Guess I can get a watchman. It’s Martha’s money. Maybe Slim can stay for a week or two.”

“Until he finds a new job.”

“A new job then.” He sighed. “But I liked it better when you didn’t have quite so much to say.” However, the grateful way she looked at him made his chest swell.

“That is so nice of you, Dino.”

“Against my better judgment though. And you’re not playing fair.” He tried to look pissed but he liked making her happy. “You really want Slim around?” he asked. “Might be months before he can find another job. I’m damn well not giving him a reference.”

“Martha will, though. And Slim’s a good horseman. He must have some connections.”

Dino gave a grudging nod. Slim would pop up somewhere; he just hoped it was far away from Conrad’s. Far away from Becky.

“So,” she continued brightly, “do you want to race to the tree? Go with our original bet?”

“Sure,” he said quickly. “But make sure you don’t veer to the stream. Horses tend to want to run the easiest route—” He stopped. “What are you doing?”

“Shortening my stirrups to proper race length.”

He watched in consternation as she cranked her stirrups then crouched over Lyric’s neck. She flashed him a challenging smile. “Ready to run, cowboy?”

He shook his head, secretly impressed at how quickly she’d adjusted her tack. “No, that’s too dangerous. I’m not racing if you ride like that.”

“Ready, set, go!” she said.

Lyric catapulted forward.

“Goddammit, stop.”

Hank charged after them, unwilling to be left behind, and Dino, still cursing, gave the gelding his head. Becky and Lyric were already ten lengths in front, her little butt waving in his face. She really was race riding and if he didn’t get Hank moving, she was going to kick his ass. Unbefuckinglievable. He shook the reins and whistled at Hank.

She shouldn’t be riding so damn fast, he thought, even as he urged Hank for more speed. Martha would be livid, and horses could stumble.
Jesus
. Fear swept him. He abruptly sat back, hauling Hank into a lope as he remembered the details he’d dug up about Lyric.

Stumblekins, they’d called her. A jockey death trap. He barely breathed until the streaking pair safely reached the crest, his heart continuing its painful jackhammer even when she slowed Lyric and triumphantly circled the oak tree.

He trotted Hank the remaining distance, tightlipped and tense, unable to shake his churning fear. Nothing had happened. Lyric hadn’t stumbled. Becky was okay.

She waved her arm, grinning in jubilation. “I’ve been practicing. Both Martha and Stephanie gave me tips and I really wanted to show—”

“Goddammit!” he hollered, still twenty feet away. “That was fucking stupid. What the hell were you thinking?”

Her smile faded, the color draining from her cheeks.

“If you’re going to race like an idiot, you’ll have to stay in the ring,” he snapped. “Now get off and lead that mare back. She’s hot and winded and doesn’t deserve such an irresponsible rider.”

He yanked Hank around and headed back to the ranch, still smoldering. Goddammit. Stumblekins. Well, he’d make sure she never rode Lyric again now that she fancied herself a jockey. That mare wasn’t safe for fast work. Stephanie should have known better. And Becky.

She’d watched the video of Jill’s final race. What would have prompted her to run like that? She’d mentioned she’d been practicing but he’d pictured a half-assed canter, had never imagined she’d have the guts to go that fast. Lyric was an experienced racehorse and wouldn’t need much encouragement.

With Becky’s shortened stirrups and forward seat, no wonder the mare had flattened out and beaten Hank. And they had beaten him, fair and square. He and Hank never would have caught the smoking pair.

He shot a reluctant glance over his shoulder. Becky had a mutinous look on her face, although Lyric looked pleased with the turn of events. The sun was hot, and the horse was happy to be riderless with a chance to grab bites of grass.

What a fuck-up. He squared his shoulders and cursed.

***

The best thing about leading, instead of riding, was that it gave plenty of time to observe one’s horse. Lyric’s gray cheek was right next to Becky’s shoulder, and she could watch the mare’s expressive eye, her long ears as they flicked at a darting rabbit. Yes, it was much better to stare at Lyric than at the asshole in front of her.

Her eyes stung, and she shot another glare at Dino’s stiff back as he rode down the hill. He hadn’t looked back, not once, his broad shoulders set in a rigid line. A lump climbed her throat. She swallowed, forcing it down, unwilling to admit how much his anger hurt.

All she’d wanted was to show him how much she’d improved. She’d never intended to put Lyric at risk; in fact, the mare was barely winded. She flattened the back of her hand against Lyric’s chest—not even hot. There was no reason she had to walk home, leading her horse like a chastised kid.

She’d never seen him so angry. Martha had said all trainers were intensely competitive, but she hadn’t cheated or anything. Maybe she had grabbed a tiny head start, miniscule really, but the count had been fair. Maybe he couldn’t stand to be beaten. Or perhaps he didn’t want to lose the bet they’d made and thereby limit his range of women.

The bet. That must be it—the only thing that could have caused such a reaction. She stumbled over the uneven grass, trying to ignore the painful rubbing of her heels, the sweat beading on her neck, the crack in her heart.

Dino abruptly turned Hank and faced her, his expression shaded beneath his cowboy hat. She squared her shoulders, trying not to limp although she definitely would have worn thicker socks if she’d known there’d be a three-mile hike.

“Feet sore?”

“Nope.” She patted Lyric’s neck, comforted by the mare’s presence.

“It’s getting hot.” He leaned down and took Lyric’s reins. “Come on up on Hank.”

“No, thanks.” She ignored his extended hand. “I’m happy to walk. Wouldn’t want to be an irresponsible rider.”

“Look, I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I’m sorry.”

Sorry? He was sorry. Her head swiveled. In her experience, men rarely apologized. He even looked sorry, although he still had that stern look, which was rather disconcerting when directed at her. Like it was now.

“Lyric doesn’t seem hot,” she said. “Why don’t I just get back on?”

“No!”

His vehemence startled her, and she stepped back. Even Lyric jumped, her eyes flashing a worried white.

“That mare isn’t safe, not for galloping.” His voice gentled. “I don’t want you riding her again. You can ride back with me.”

She gaped. Realized her mouth was open and forced it shut. So that’s what this was about. He wasn’t resentful about the bet at all, just worried. Weird but kind of neat, and now her throat filled with an entirely different kind of lump.

He mistook her silence. “All right then. You can still ride Lyric but only in the paddock. I’ll find you another horse to gallop on the trails. You saw Jill’s fall. You must have some sense.”

His voice roughened but this time it didn’t bother her, not a bit. She even let him take her hand and swing her behind his saddle and onto Hank’s back. “Hold tight,” he said, switching Lyric’s reins and leading the mare with one hand.

Even though she didn’t need to hold on, not at Hank’s ambulatory walk, she looped both hands around Dino’s waist. This was better anyway. She pressed her cheek against his back, absorbing his familiar smell. “We did beat you though,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he said. “You won.”

And then it was quiet, except for the thud of horses’ hooves, the rhythmic motion of Hank’s hindquarters and the occasional swish of Lyric’s tail. A hawk circled lazily but other than that, they were utterly alone. Odd, how five minutes ago she was deep in despair and now felt buoyant, perfectly at peace.

Her hands drifted along the ridge of his flat stomach. She slid her fingers between the buttonholes, feeling his warm skin, the smattering of crisp hair.

“I was so fucking scared, honey,” he whispered, squeezing her hand.

“But Lyric feels surefooted when she gallops. I didn’t really think something like that could happen to me.” He immediately tensed and she soothingly stroked his hard abs.

“There’s a good reason Malcolm wouldn’t breed that mare,” he said, “but I shouldn’t have lost my temper…a little lower please.” He tugged her hand downward.

“I thought you were angry because of our bet.” She obligingly stroked the bulge in his jeans. “That you’d be bored without your usual variety of women.”

He shook his head. “Clearly that isn’t going to be a problem.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” she said.

***

“Put ten dollars to win on Echo,” Stephanie said, her voice barely audible. “If I had more money, I’d bet more. And thanks for the flowers. The card said from Martha, but I sensed your influence.”

“Does your arm hurt a lot?” Becky switched the phone to her other ear, straining to hear Stephanie’s reply.

“Not bad. I sleep a lot. Drop by on Monday. And then you can tell me about Echo’s race.” Her voice strengthened, and for a moment she sounded like the old Stephanie. “Who galloped her today?”

“Someone called Tracey. Dark hair, nice smile. But I didn’t meet her.”

“She’s okay, but Hunter would make mincemeat out of her. That girl needs to pump weights. I hope Slim used a ring bit.”

“Dino looked after the gallop.”

“Where was Slim?”

“Guess he was busy somewhere.” Becky’s voice trailed off. Right after their ride, Dino had headed to Slim’s house. By now, Slim would know he didn’t have to move. Thanks to Martha’s largesse, he’d have ample time to job search.