Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (96 page)

She closed the car door, ducking her head from the stinging rain, and splashed toward the barn. The slick knob stalled for a moment, then turned beneath her hand. She slipped inside.

It was pitch dark, and she fumbled for a switch, trying to remember the layout. Feed room, office and bathroom were on her right and past that were the long rows of stalls. Only about ten feet through the blackness, and she’d be in the aisle with its friendly night lights.

Cautiously she edged along the wall, hand extended, still feeling for a switch. Felt nothing except the rough wall. Didn’t matter though. She’d almost reached the corner and the muted lights of the aisle.

“Should have fucking killed you.”

Her heart thrust against her ribs. She froze. Obviously a joke. Sounded like Slim, but those furious words had to be a mistake. She peeked around the corner, straining to see and blinking at the sudden light.

Slim stood in the aisle, legs jammed wide. He held a bay horse—Hunter. She recognized the colt’s expression, still imperious despite the chain twisted over the top of his tender gums. Slim poked at the horse’s left nostril with what seemed to be a wire with a light on the side.

Uncertain, she backed against the wall, nervously tucking her wet hair behind her ears. Nobody else was around this time of night so whatever Slim was doing, he clearly believed he could doctor the colt alone.

Or else he didn’t want anyone to see.

The thought crept into her brain, unwelcome and chilling. She backed up, legs stiff as she fumbled along the wall, silently retracing her steps. Finally the door handle poked her back. She scooted outside and retreated to the security of her warm car. Hit central lock and sank against the seat.

One thing was certain. She did not want to walk into the barn now. The purse would be safe until morning. But if she didn’t return with it, Martha was bound to fret.

A drop of water trickled down her forehead. Maybe she could wait for Slim to leave and then grab it. However, if he saw her car, he’d wonder why she was sitting alone in the dark. And probably he was just checking Hunter’s runny nose. Yesterday there had been discharge, and today there’d definitely been a rotten smell. If he was looking for infection, she should offer to help or at least make her presence known. But she’d enter through the front door. Let him know she was coming.

Yes, that’s exactly what she’d do. Slim probably wasn’t doing anything wrong, and besides, she was tired of tiptoeing around men.

Pumping up her resolve, she started the car and circled to the front. Parked beside the wide doors and made a show of backing up. Slow, awkward, slow. Made sure Slim could see her flashing red lights. But her heart didn’t slow; in fact, it raced. Probably caused by the cold rain but she prudently slipped the phone in her pocket before unlocking the car door and entering the barn.

“Hello,” she called, hating the tentative squeak in her voice. “Anyone here?”

Slim materialized in the aisle, his voice gruff. “Yeah. What’cha doing here so late?”

“Martha forgot her purse. Did you see it?”

“No.” He immediately turned helpful. “Where’d she leave it?”

“On the hay by one of the stalls. Hunter’s, I think,” she added impulsively, watching his expression.

“I haven’t been by his stall,” Slim said, averting his head. “Just dropped in to check Lyric. Make sure she doesn’t escape again.”

Becky shoved her hands in her pocket, disturbed by his blatant lie. The feel of her phone was reassuring, and she forced a tight smile. “Okay, I’ll go look.” She stepped past him, forcing her feet to walk nonchalantly down the aisle.

Horses stuck their heads over stall doors, acting the same as they had a few hours ago, but now the barn felt creepy. And Slim’s shadowing steps made the back of her neck prickle. Whatever he’d done to Hunter, he obviously didn’t want anyone to know. He’d waited until the barn staff had left, had even lied about being near Hunter’s stall. Her legs turned cold, clumsy, and when Lyric greeted her with a soft nicker, she paused, grateful for the excuse to quit walking.

“There it is.” Slim pointed at the purse lying on the hay bales between Lyric and Echo’s stalls. “Thought you said it was by Hunter?”

“I can’t tell the horses apart.” She shrugged and grabbed the purse, tucking it beneath her arm. “Where’s Hunter again?”

“Further down.”

She scanned the aisle, her gaze swinging toward the back entrance. The area that she’d been standing in was definitely shadowed. No way Slim could have seen her. And the sound of the rain had surely muffled her car.

“Why is Hunter the only horse to have his halter on?” she asked, careful to keep her voice casual.

“It shouldn’t be.” Slim walked toward Hunter’s stall. “Damn Cody forgot to take it off. I’ll get it.”

Hunter flattened his ears and struck at the stall door as they approached, the noise so sharp, she flinched. His ears pinned and his eyes rimmed with white.

“He looks mad,” she said. “Usually he just ignores people.”

Slim’s gaze sharpened on her face. “Thought you couldn’t tell the horses apart?”

“I can’t,” she said. “I’ve just never seen any of these beautiful animals so angry.” She edged away from Hunter’s teeth, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the unpleasant smell. Besides, Slim was still staring and it seemed a good time to skedaddle. She focused on a brown spot on the left side of his forehead, just below the rim of his cowboy hat, relieved to avoid his squinty eyes. “Glad I found the purse. Martha’s waiting so guess I’ll see you tomorrow. What time does Stephanie gallop?”

“Late. Nine-thirty. Dino wants to watch too.” Resentment flashed across his face, but she didn’t want to stay and analyze. She just wanted to leave.

She backed up, nodding every step, then turned and rushed down the endless aisle, away from Hunter. Away from Slim. Everything was fine. No need to hurry. But she felt Slim’s narrowed gaze pinned to her back and by the time she reached the door, she was almost running.

Chapter Nine

Dino adjusted the speaker on his truck phone as he finished rattling off instructions to Shane. “Soak his foot and have the farrier put on some bar shoes. Horse can walk the shedrow for the next few days.”

He cut the connection and concentrated on the flowing traffic, satisfied with the morning training. He’d left Lone Star earlier than usual so he could whip down to Conrad’s and watch Echo work. And if Becky dropped by, he’d have time to give her a quick lesson.

Judging from her bareback ride, she had good balance but it was probably safest if she stayed in the paddock. Lyric hadn’t raced for several years and was often cantankerous. However, there was no reason why staff shouldn’t enjoy a retired horse. It’d be good for the mare, and Becky needed a break from her boring life in Martha’s mausoleum. He’d already glimpsed the personality she kept under careful wrap, and there was a lot more spirit there than he’d originally guessed.

Martha had been keen on Becky riding too, although she wouldn’t tolerate any accidents. “Becky’s much more than my nurse,” she’d said, “and I won’t be happy if she’s not around to cater to me.”

Selfish old harridan, he thought with affection. At first he’d considered the flamboyant Martha and self-effacing Becky to be an unlikely pair, but Becky definitely had a spicy side. Getting to know her was like peeling an onion. He had an abrupt image of peeling clothes and shook his head in disgust. She already thought he was a sex addict, and although he didn’t usually give a rat’s ass about people’s opinions, he did care about Becky’s.

He drove onto the luxurious Conrad estate, past the shimmering lake and along the tree-lined drive. The south road led to the broodmare barn, and the north curved to the race barn. The grounds were always impeccable. It was apparent there was no lack of groundskeepers. The race stable employed six workers, including Stephanie and Slim, but they only concentrated on the racehorses; the broodmares and grounds were someone else’s responsibility.

“Shit!” He rounded a corner and jammed on his brakes, flinging up a spray of gravel and almost clipping a man draped over a tripod.

“Sorry. Didn’t expect any cars. We’re almost through,” the man called from the middle of the road. “One more minute.”

Dino nodded and checked his watch. Nine-thirty. Of course, Slim would wait, but Dino hated to upset a training schedule. And lately Slim had been prickly. Obviously he missed Malcolm, probably more than Dino did.

The surveyor made a last adjustment, gave an apologetic wave and dragged his equipment over to a white panel van.

Dino lowered his window as he edged past. “Road work?”

“Just a cost estimate. They’re widening the road for a golf course.”

Dino jammed against the seat, shocked into silence. A golf course. Jesus. But it made sense. Vast property, lots of water, close to the city—probably more profitable than racing horses. But his stomach jerked in protest, and seconds later his shock morphed into anger.

Martha had assured him she wasn’t selling, at least until after the Lone Star meet. He’d assumed there’d be plenty of opportunity to earn his bonus. Had even turned down another job offer, mainly because of her assurance as well as his promise to Malcolm. Big mistake. He rubbed his knuckles, fighting the urge to drive his fist into the steering wheel.

He’d miscalculated. Badly. Should have left when Malcolm died but had stayed with Martha out of misguided loyalty. Maybe that’s why she’d sent Becky in her place. Maybe she was busy selling horses. Maybe Echo wasn’t even running on Saturday.

Gravel ricocheted beneath the truck as he sped up the driveway and rammed to a stop by the barn. “Horse is tacked up,” Slim called from the doorway. “Meet you at the rail.”

Stephanie appeared, perched on Echo, and the filly looked so stunning, pride momentarily replaced Dino’s frustration. Damn, but Malcolm bred good-looking horses. Too bad he wasn’t still the owner. Too bad Martha and Becky couldn’t tell the truth.

His scowl deepened as Becky emerged from the barn, obviously still pretending it was business as usual. She wore her typical baggy clothes, although today she seemed taller. Maybe it was her hair, no longer loose, but neatly captured in a ponytail, shiny and glinting beneath the sun. She was definitely the type of person who grew on you.

His scowl faded, the tension seeping from his shoulders. This shit wasn’t her fault. But why the hell was Martha foisting Becky on him, wasting everyone’s time, pretending she wanted to race even though surveyors were already hired?

Becky passed him a coffee, and he automatically nodded his thanks. Must be the nurse in her, wanting to look after everyone. And he did love a coffee by the rail, treasuring moments when he could relax and enjoy the simple beauty of a galloping horse.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling in spite of his disappointment. “I brought something that will go well with this.”

He reached into the cab and extracted a bag of cinnamon buns—something he’d picked up when he’d been in a better frame of mind. But her face lit with such delight, his mood softened. Quite likely she had no idea what Martha was planning.

“Oh, my gosh,” she said. “That’s great.”

He smiled, momentarily forgetting Martha’s treachery and his precarious employment. “There’s enough for two each and if you’re still hungry, you can have one of mine. Come on. Slim’s waiting by the rail.”

Her gaze darted to Slim, and she tugged nervously at her lower lip. “Can I talk to you in private? About Hunter?”

“Yeah, sure.” He blew out a sigh, guessing she was going to announce Martha had a buyer for the colt. “But not yet. Tell me after.” He grabbed her elbow and guided her to the rail, unwilling to hear bad news just before an important work.

“You all look like this is a party,” Slim said, eyeing the brown bag. “Got one in there for me?”

Dino passed him a cinnamon bun. “Filly looks fit. You and Stephanie have done a good job.”

Slim shrugged but his mouth curved in a rare smile, and they munched companionably beneath the rising sun. Stephanie trotted by, yelling something about bad calories, and Echo looked so eager Dino’s tension eased. It was a beautiful morning and if the filly won on Saturday, Martha might decide to race the rest of the meet. A few good races and he’d have enough for the down payment. He just needed some time.

He glanced at Becky, watching as she licked some frosting from the top of her lip. “I’d give you another,” he said, “but Lyric might complain if you weigh too much. Better save it for after your lesson.”

Her head shot up, the glow on her face momentarily stunning him. Damn, she was pretty.

“I’m riding?” she asked. “Today?”

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, still studying her face. “If you’re free. Thought I could hang around and help.”

“What about your horses at Lone Star?” Slim asked.

Dino dragged his gaze off Becky and glanced at Slim. “Shane has everything under control. He’s almost as competent as you.” He meant it as a compliment, but Slim didn’t crack a smile.

“There is something I need your help with,” Slim said slowly. “I asked the local vet to scope Hunter, but he put me off. Now I think Hunter’s got some sort of cold. He won’t let me handle him. I think he might need a round of antibiotics.”

Dino stared at the man, too shocked to hide his anger. “Goddammit! You told me the vet checked that horse?”

“Got Hunter mixed up with the other colt that ran Saturday. Just a mistake. I’m real sorry.”

Slim tugged at his hat, looking so embarrassed Dino bit back another curse. Slim rarely made a mistake. And the man was worried sick about his daughter; it was only fair to cut some slack. But if Hunter needed antibiotics, it would definitely delay his next start.

“I’ll look at Hunter after the work,” Dino said, his voice clipped. He clamped his jaw and glanced at Becky. Now that he was already pissed, he might as well get her bad news too. “What do you want to tell me about Hunter? Did Martha sell him?”

“Sell him? Of course not. I just had a question…” Her voice trailed off as she glanced at Slim.