Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (45 page)

Someone raked the aisle while a short rider in a dented helmet and fringed chaps cleaned leather. Similar activities took place in the adjoining barns, and her worries eased. This didn’t seem very hard.

“Eight weeks of this. It’ll be a cinch,” she murmured, reaching back and feeling Buddy’s chest. She didn’t know a horse’s normal respiration rate but was an expert on cooling down human athletes and guessed animals involved the same general principles. Already she could see from Buddy’s flanks that his breathing had steadied.

Maria motioned her toward an assortment of wash sponges. “You have to hold him for his bath. Since Trish left, Buddy doesn’t have a groom, so I’ve been stuck with the extra work.” She gave a long-suffering sigh, but Jessica sensed Maria was really a helpful soul.

“Thanks for showing me around,” Jessica said. “Buddy’s a nice horse.” She scratched him on the shoulder while Maria sloshed soapy water over his chest, saturating the air with the smell of sweat, horsehair and lavender.

“Yeah, he’s a dream compared to the others.” Maria’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “Boss is sure starting you out easy.”

“Boss is Mark?” Jessica asked as she helped rinse the dripping suds from Buddy’s back.

“Of course. I thought you knew him?”

“Just met him this morning,” Jessica said, “but I’m broke and really need the job.”

Maria’s round face filled with empathy. “Yeah, he’s one of the best-paying trainers around, but he doesn’t tolerate mistakes. Strange he’d hire someone so green.”

“You can tell I’m green?”

Maria smiled as she rescued Buddy’s lead shank from the muddy ground. “Everyone can tell. And dangling equipment is dangerous. Boss will skin your ass if he sees that.” She sobered, and worry lines fanned her eyes as she checked over her shoulder. “I think, for job security, you better come with me to the kitchen for a chat.”

Ten minutes later, they were seated in the track kitchen, a dining area vastly different from the elegant clubhouse Jessica remembered. It was merely a clapboard hut stuffed with linoleum tables and air thick with kitchen grease. But the shouts to Maria were warm and welcoming, and the cafeteria line efficient.

Jessica took a cautious bite of the fried egg sandwich Maria recommended. For years, her breakfast had consisted of a protein smoothie, but eggs seemed the popular backside fare and anything that gave her more time with Maria was worth forcing down.

“Listen up, kid.” Maria propped her elbows on the table and leaned closer. “There’s a strict pecking order here, from lowly hot walkers to grooms, exercise riders and jockeys. Way at the top are trainers. Obey them like they’re God. We’re lucky because Mark is one of the decent ones, and he’s getting better runners every month. He’s good to his horses and won’t expect you to sleep with him. In fact, sex and alcohol are prohibited in his barn.”

Jessica coughed, almost choking on her food.

“Don’t worry,” Maria said. “Plenty of girls are fighting to be Trish’s replacement.”

“Who’s Trish?” Jessica wiped her mouth and took another bite of the egg sandwich. It really was delicious, much better than her tedious shakes.

Maria snorted. “The reigning backstretch beauty. Sucks up to all the trainers, only works for the top stables, a real snob.”

Jessica shrugged and glanced around the bustling room, more interested in the people she could see. “So the little people with whips stuck in their pockets are exercise riders?”

“Yeah. All they do is ride. Some are working toward their jockey licenses, but most are too tall or too heavy.”

“What about the owners? Where do they fit?”

Maria sniffed. “The trainer deals with them. The fancy owners don’t come around unless it’s to meet for dinner. They only think of their horse on race day.”

Jessica hid a finger of guilt. Obviously her grandfather fell in that category. They hadn’t visited the backside on her last visit, and she hadn’t thought about where the horses went before and after the race. She did remember the trainer though, a creaky, white-haired man who thumped his cane and swore at the jockey. Mark was vastly different from that man—so calm, so muscled, so…hunky.

Heat swept her face, and she shoved aside improper thoughts of her new boss. “Thanks for giving me the scoop. So what do we do after breakfast?”

“No races or yard sales today, so we nap.”

“Nap?” Jessica smiled. “I believe I’m going to like it here.”

Mark leaned over his desk as he flipped through the Keeneland auction catalogue. Several yearlings drew his interest, well-bred but not fashionable enough to attract big bidders from the Middle East. Still, they’d be pricey, and unfortunately only one of his owners had expressed any interest in the sale: Edward T. Boone.

Boone and his baggage. Mark sighed, sipping his coffee as he considered the leggy granddaughter. Clearly she knew nothing about horses, and her striking looks were an obvious liability. Even the disciplined Carlos had been sneaking peeks, and accidents always happened when staff was distracted.

Fortunately Maria was looking after Jessica and explaining the rules. Maybe they could keep the girl busy scrubbing buckets and coiling hoses. His main concern was that she didn’t impact the horses. They were sensitive athletes and needed a calm, orderly environment.

A shrill squeal sliced the air.
What the hell?

He jerked to his feet, painfully ramming the top of his knee against the edge of the desk. Clearly a horse was in trouble. Please, not Assets, he prayed, thinking about Boone’s other horse.

He charged down the shedrow, breaking his own rule about not running in the barn. Assets stared down the aisle, healthy, happy and merely curious about the racket coming from Trish’s old tack room, the sleeping quarters now occupied by Boone’s granddaughter.

Mark shoved the door open and burst in.

Jessica teetered on the cot, legs tangled in blankets, her face twisted with revulsion.

“Mouse!” She gestured at the far corner.

He jerked to a stop, his breath escaping in a relieved whoosh.

“Mouse,” he repeated, distracted by the way she jumped on shapely legs, making the bed protest in a cacophony of squeaks. She’d limped earlier, but there was no sign of that now, although her right knee was definitely swollen. His gaze lifted, leg analysis forgotten as bouncing breasts grabbed his attention. Damn, she was built. His irritation faded as he admired the enticing view.

“Well, can you catch it?” she asked.

He gave a guilty jerk, jamming his attention back to her face. Her expression was so desperate that his appreciation of her stunning body flipped to concern. Concern he quickly crushed.

She was an inconvenient presence at a very inconvenient time. After watching her lead Buddy, it was obvious she was useless. He dragged a hand through his hair, hating how Boone had forced him into such an awkward position. A Breeders’ Cup season, and he was forced to baby-sit a newbie. “There are always lots of mice around,” he said, trying to keep the impatience from his voice. “Difficult to control. It’s more important to keep them out of the horses’ feed. Just shake your boots in the morning, and you won’t squash them.”

“Yuck!” She shuddered, staring at the floor with renewed suspicion. “So they mainly come out at night?”

“Or when it’s quiet, and they think the room is empty.” He crossed his arms. “Look, Jessica, it’s clear you don’t belong here. Why don’t we call your grandfather and arrange for a drive home? Tomorrow I’ll take you on a tour of the backside, explain how it all works and anything else you want to know.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m just not used to mice beneath my bed. That’s all.” She clamped her mouth, and the staunch set of her chin surprised him. “I’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

Her voice was stubborn but also oddly desperate. Had her grandfather kicked her out? Surely she had better places to go than the backside of Belmont Park. She was staring at him though, and there was no mistaking the plea in those beautiful brown eyes. A deer in the headlights look he simply couldn’t resist.

He scooped her fancy jeans off the floor and tossed them to her with a resigned sigh. “Get dressed and meet me in my office. We’ll figure out something you can do.”

He stopped in front of Assets’ stall to check the colt. Two minutes later, Jessica bounded behind him.

“Quiet. Always move slow. Never scare the horses.” He thought he did a good job hiding his frustration. “This is Ambling Assets. Heard of him?”

“Don’t think so.” She spoke cautiously, as though it were some kind of test.

“He’s my big horse.” A definite understatement. The two-year-old had won several Grade 1 races and was an early favorite for the Breeders’ Cup Juvenile.

“He doesn’t seem that big.” She edged closer. “Buddy is taller.”

“Big horse is just an expression. Careful, he bites. Your grandfather owns this guy.”

“Ah.” She dodged the colt’s playful nip. “And you have to please my grandfather?”

“Exactly.”

“So I’m kind of your boss.” She gave him such a teasing smile, he grinned back.

“Guess it just means we’re stuck with one another for a bit,” he said. But his smile lingered as he studied her intelligent face. It shouldn’t be too disastrous to have her around for a week. Boone expected she’d only last a couple days. At least she’d put on a bra, although her breasts still strained against her tight shirt.

He’d have to review the dress code. It was hard on the guys staring at jiggling breasts all day, and owners’ wives didn’t like it much either. She clearly had a top notch set—

Something grabbed his hand, and Assets’ teeth pinched his skin. Obviously not only his staff were distracted. His smile flattened, and he wheeled away.

She followed him into his office, ballsy as an agent, wandering around and checking out his wall pictures while he rummaged through the drawers for her backside pass. He finally found it in the middle drawer behind his cache of peppermints.

“Here are your credentials,” he said. “You’ll have to stop by the office and have your picture taken. Officially you’re a groom, but I only want you handling Buddy. Dino or I will help with the poultice and wraps. If you have any other questions, ask Maria. Stay out of everyone’s way, and don’t get kicked.”

“Does this mean I get a raise?” she asked as she clipped the laminated pass on the pocket of her jeans. “Now that I’ve been promoted from hot walker to groom?”

“A raise?” He lifted an eyebrow. Couldn’t remember any of his staff ever asking for a raise.

“Well, yes, since I’m taking over Trish’s job. Her job as a groom, I mean,” she added, so quickly he wondered what the hell Maria had said.

She was breathing fast now, maybe wasn’t quite as cocky as she appeared. And she definitely knew how to stick out her lower lip. It was thicker on the bottom. Pink. Ripe.
Jesus
.

He grabbed a rubber bucket and slammed a rectal thermometer on the desk. “Naturally if you want to do a bit more—assume some of Trish’s other duties—that’ll be fine. Maybe I can consider a raise. Ten horses. By the way, Trish always used gloves.”

She backed up a step, her nose wrinkling as she absorbed the implications of the thermometer, the tail clip, the brown-crusted string. “Actually,” she said, “let’s forget the raise for now. And maybe it’s best if I only groom Buddy.”

He nodded gravely. “Good call.” But he was smiling as she fled the office, and it was another full minute before he turned his attention back to the Keeneland sale catalogue.

Chapter Three

Jessica forced herself from the cocoon of blankets and tried to shake off her bleariness, a definite result of sleep deprivation. Mice had scurried beneath the cot all night, and the prospect of a furry body joining her beneath the covers had been too horrifying to allow any sleep.

But it was four a.m., and already voices leaked from the aisle. Horses nickered, buckets rattled and a challenging day loomed. She’d already decided that instead of napping later she would find a store and buy some much-needed mousetraps.

Mark was wrong. There was absolutely no reason to tolerate mice, and she’d never be able to sleep with rodents rustling three feet from her head. At least he’d made her a groom and not a hot walker; she didn’t want to be at the bottom of any organization, no matter how temporary her position.

She tugged on her jeans, wincing at the stab of pain in her knee. It had ballooned up during the night even though her grandfather’s doctor had drained the fluid only two days earlier. A warm bath always helped, but the rusty showers across the road didn’t have tubs.

Yawning, she limped into the aisle. The lights were on, but it was black outside and the air crisp. Figures drifted from the shadows, exchanging a series of grunts and terse greetings.

No one paid her any attention, so she wandered down to Buddy’s stall. It was filthy. So was the horse. Straw clung to his mane and tail, and manure stains streaked his belly.

“Morning,” Maria called, gesturing at a giant whiteboard. “Better get to work. Buddy is scheduled to go out with the second set.”

Riders with boots, helmets and safety vests gathered around the board, reading out names and making comments.

“Boss put me on Jed today. Man, I hate that horse,” someone said.

Jessica scanned the aisle but didn’t see Mark. It seemed everything happened fast in the morning so she rushed across the road to the bathroom, washed her face and tied her hair in a ponytail. She cast a longing look at the shower but hurried back.

Already five horses were saddled and in the aisle where grooms legged riders onto their backs. She checked the board. Except for her, each groom cared for three horses, five exercise riders worked the sets, and five hot walkers cooled out the horses when they returned to the barn. It appeared grooms cleaned the stalls while the horses were ridden. It was also clear she’d been assigned much less than any other worker. She squelched her spike of guilt. At least she was up and working long before the trainer.

“Hurry up, kid,” Maria said as she brushed past with a loaded wheelbarrow. “Tie Buddy to the wall and get him ready. Boss will have your skinny ass if you mess up his schedule.”