all roads lead to you

by Probst, Jennifer

  Aidan retreated from the scene to stand beside her. “What just happened?” he asked. “He hates goats. We tried Mike and Molly from the Bakers’ farm, remember? Whenever they came near, he threw a temper tantrum.”

  Harper studied horse and goat eating together peacefully and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said faintly. “Did he think he was a chicken? Or a new animal breed?”

  Elmo strode toward them from the barn with Owen trailing behind. “They friends?” Elmo asked with a jerk of his head.

  Harper let out an exasperated breath. “Owen! I told you not to leave the Captain alone!”

  The kid’s cheeks reddened. “Sorry, I had to go the bathroom. It’s gated, with plenty of room, and the dogs were fine with him. What happened?”

  “That.” She jerked her thumb at the scene before her. “But it could have gone very differently. Sorry, Elmo, I should’ve told you the goat was fragile. I didn’t trust Phoenix with him.”

  Elmo popped a sunflower seed in his mouth and chewed. “Why not? Wounded souls recognize one another. I take break now.” Elmo disappeared, still munching on seeds.

  Owen turned to face them. “I’m really sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to slack off.”

  She softened. “It’s okay, I can’t expect you to watch a goat twenty-four seven. It worked out for a reason. They were destined to meet. Maybe they can both help each other’s anxiety.” She studied the pair. “We could bring Captain Hoof to Saratoga with us. That way I don’t have to worry about someone watching him.”

  “Hey, I’ll do anything to get him out of that ridiculous chicken suit,” Aidan said.

  “Sorry, Irish. I don’t think we’ll be getting rid of that anytime soon.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I can’t believe we’re here.”

  She looked out at the scene before her. The freshly raked dirt of the track curved in a large, graceful arc, sandwiched between lush green grass and white fences. The scoreboard lit up in neon with the entries, odds, and calculated prices of the possible wins based on current odds. The early afternoon was clear, bright, and hot, but the breeze cut down the humidity and brought crowds to the rail, to get as close as possible and watch the horses charge over the finish line. People squeezed together, drinking lemonade and draft beer, eating hot dogs and pretzels, and clutching rolled racing forms. Pencils were tucked behind ears, and discussions regarding the current crop of picks for the upcoming race were loud and lively.

  Harper breathed in the energy and glory of the moment. Nerves twisted in her belly and batted like butterfly wings. “Want a beer?” Aidan asked her. Today, he wore a gray hat threaded with purple, slanted low on his head. His short-sleeve button-down shirt was a dark purple. Jeans and boots completed the outfit, making him look masculine and virile. He walked the track like he owned it, cutting a path in the crowds with an easy power that made her mouth dry. This was his world, and she loved being introduced to the behind-the-scenes of one of the most famous tracks, where American Pharoah and Secretariat and Cigar once ran.

  Harper shook her head. “No, I’m too nervous. After. When we celebrate.”

  He nodded. “When we celebrate. Let’s get back to the stables. It’s almost time.”

  They’d taken a quick break to walk the front grounds and mix with the crowds. Right now, Phoenix was going off at 45–1, but most of the horses were unknowns, looking to begin competing for future gold. Harper couldn’t care less what anyone thought her horse was worth on a bet. Today was important to test not only his stamina, but his thirst for competition. Some horses naturally had competition in their blood. Others, even though they had speed, just couldn’t kick it to the next level in a drive to win.

  Weeks of training had gotten them this far. Now it was time to test the racetrack waters.

  When they reached the stables, a different excitement buzzed in the air. One of jockeys and owners, horses and companions, with last-moment nerves, commands, and disasters waiting to unfold. There had already been one scratch for a young filly who bruised her foot. Elmo was dressed in his silks, the white and bright robin’s-egg blue reminiscent of the inn’s colors. Harper had been able to register the colors and sketched design of the inn with the Jockey Club, and they were set for future races. The jockey’s features seemed cold and distant, but Aidan informed her that was his game face to transition into racing.

  “He seems to be calm,” she said, rubbing under the horse’s chin. Resplendent with the same bright colors as Elmo, his black coat gleamed and showed off lean muscles, the reward of all the hard weeks of work. She peered into his eyes, noting the bright awareness and the charged energy that buzzed around him. Almost as if he knew what was about to happen and was getting into the same mode as Elmo.

  “He did well with the trip,” Aidan said. “So did the Captain.”

  The goat was currently resting in Phoenix’s stall, tired from the bustling activity, his chicken costume securely around his body. From the moment they shared hay, the horse and goat had been inseparable. Phoenix allowed the goat into his stall, where they happily rested and snoozed together. They played in the pasture, and the horse had even reluctantly decided to allow Wheezy and Bolt to join in on the games. A new, more peaceful energy seemed to settle around the horse when Captain Hoof was around.

  Harper believed in fate, and God, and prayer, and knew there were no coincidences. Captain Hoof had been sent to them for a reason. They had been meant to be healed by each other, and it was another reason why she loved her job so damn much.

  “It’s time,” Aidan said.

  Elmo saddled up, nodding at her, and they began to fall in line to walk the horses down the historic path to the track. “I’ll meet you by the stands,” Aidan told her. “The handler takes Elmo and Phoenix down for now.”

  Her throat tight, she pressed a kiss to the horse’s nose. “Good luck,” she whispered in his ear. She said the same thing to Elmo and headed to her seat.

  The minutes seemed to crawl as she waited for Aidan to join her. She peered through binoculars until she spotted Phoenix walking in a line of horses, toward the starting gate. Her heart galloped in her chest. Moments later, the scent of spice and Irish Spring soap rose to her nostrils. Aidan’s hard body pressed against hers, and his hand reached out to squeeze her fingers. She tilted her head to look at him. His eyes shone with a rock-steadiness and warmth that allowed her to take a shaky breath. “Does this get any less nerve racking?” she asked, reluctant to let go of his hand.

  “No,” he said. “But you get used to it. And honestly, once that excitement fades and you’re too burnt out to enjoy the show, it’s time to quit.”

  “Makes sense.”

  The horses were guided to the gate, and one by one, they were locked in. Phoenix had drawn post number four, which wasn’t terrible, but they’d been hoping for an outside post. He was able to make up the speed, but the crowds and getting boxed in were the real trouble. Of course, Harper had better get used to luck being a factor in the long game anyway. Better to experience it early so it wasn’t a surprise.

  The final horse was loaded. The gate snapped closed.

  Harper held her breath.

  The shriek of the alarm boomed in the air. Ten gates flew open.

  “And they’re off!” the announcer shouted.

  The six-furlong race seemed to take centuries as she watched Phoenix break cleanly from the gate. They’d discussed their strategy multiple times, all agreeing to let the horse get toward the front, then settle into the pace depending on the front-runner. They didn’t want him to burn out too quick so he could save some juice for the final stretch.

  Phoenix tore ahead, and multiple horses fell back, giving him the space he needed. Glacier Pike got to the front and squeezed alongside Tom Tom, leaving Phoenix to settle into close third.

  “He’s in the perfect position,” Aidan said.

  The three horses stayed at the front through the first corner turn and into the second. Phoenix bega
n to edge closer to the front-runner, Glacier Pike, and Tom Tom shifted over so Phoenix was sandwiched in between both horses. Hooves pounded in furious pursuit of the finish line. Dirt flew, people screamed, and the announcer boomed loudly over the speaker.

  Her focus narrowed to Phoenix, his physical grace and beauty mesmerizing when he was at full power.

  Suddenly, the cavalry charge pounded up behind them, the closers making their final run for the win. Phoenix held the lead, but as the final turn came around, Glacier Pike and Tom Tom hovered close, pulling Phoenix’s focus from the finish line.

  Harper watched the scene unfold in slow motion.

  The horse began to slow, drifting, as if confused, and Tom Tom and Glacier Pike began to pull ahead. The closers threatened, and she watched Elmo try to spur the horse on, knowing he had plenty left in the tank. Instead of speeding up, Phoenix slowed even more, as if his hooves were stuck in mud rather than dry dirt. A rush of horses came up from behind and whooshed past him.

  Phoenix passed the finish line in second-to-last place.

  Harper closed her eyes.

  She heard the softly muttered curse from Aidan. Disappointment crashed through her, along with a rage of doubt. Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe they’d all been wrong.

  He didn’t have the heart and soul of a true racehorse. At least, not enough to go on for the epic Triple Crown.

  They lapsed into silence while the crowds cheered and Glacier Pike pranced to the winner’s circle.

  She chewed her lip and glanced at Aidan. His profile was carved in granite. “What happened?”

  “Don’t know. But I’m going to find out. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  They’d lost.

  Aidan tried to beat back the ache of failure and focus on the problem. He’d been so damn sure this time. He’d experienced plenty of setbacks and failures from horses, but he’d never been so hopeful. Anger nipped at his nerves. It was his fault for letting everyone get in his head. He’d never been so attached and bonded with a horse, let alone an entire family.

  He’d gotten weak.

  They were back at the stables. Phoenix had been properly cooled down and settled back in his stall to munch on hay. Captain Hoof ate beside him, oblivious to the heartbreaking loss.

  Aidan barely contained the bite of his words as he addressed Elmo. “What happened out there? It was a clusterfuck. You didn’t push him enough.”

  Elmo faced him. His dark eyes were cold as he leveled his stare. “I did. Had plenty left in him but refused to give me it. Other horses looming spooked him. He got in his head. Couldn’t focus.”

  “You’re an experienced jockey. Why didn’t you touch him with the whip to focus him?”

  The jockey’s stare grew icier and matched his tone. “We agree no whip. Only hand ride. He knows my signals. He chose to ignore me.”

  Aidan spun around, rubbing his scalp, too pissed off to think straight. He knew it wasn’t Elmo’s fault. The jockey was right. He’d had the perfect position and break from the gate. Phoenix should’ve been there. His workout this morning had been blistering fast—faster than he’d ever seen before. Aidan had gotten cocky and relied on the horse’s raw natural talent to get him to the finish line.

  But Phoenix had gotten distracted.

  The overwhelming sense of failure sank onto his shoulders. He turned back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see this coming.”

  “None of us did,” Harper said firmly. She leaned against the stable door. “He’ll be better next time.”

  Aidan remained silent. So did Elmo. They both knew it could be a sign the horse wasn’t cut out for the track. He tried to remind himself it was the very first race, and there was plenty of room to grow and tweak. But the doubts were nibbling fiercely inside of him, and like a frayed cord, his confidence threatened to snap.

  Phoenix was supposed to be his big comeback.

  Aidan needed him. Needed to show he could win on his own, with his natural talent to pick the right horse. Needed to return to Ireland a champion.

  This couldn’t be all for nothing. He must be missing something—a crucial piece of the puzzle that would allow Phoenix to rise to his potential. What the hell was it?

  “I think we’re all tired,” Harper said, her husky voice soothing his ears. “Let’s take a break and get something to eat.”

  “I go eat with jockeys,” Elmo said. He gave Phoenix a pat on the head, nodded, and strode out of the barn.

  Aidan let out an irritated breath. “I acted like an asshole,” he muttered. “He didn’t deserve it.”

  Harper touched his shoulder. “We weren’t expecting this,” she said quietly. “Let’s regroup. There’s no need to rush back when we have a hotel for the night. Have dinner with me. We’ll come back to check on them later.”

  She was right. He needed to clear his head and figure out his next step. Maybe Phoenix just needed to become more familiar with the circuit. He pushed his spinning thoughts aside and tried to focus. “How does Mexican sound? The cantina in town has good food and strong tequila.”

  Her lips curved in a faint smile, but just the dim light of it soothed his soul. Gave him space inside to breathe. Usually, when he lost a race he isolated himself, picked over his mistakes, and got stinkin’ drunk. Today, he wanted her company.

  “Nothing a good taco can’t cure, Irish. Come on.”

  She offered her hand. He stared at it for a moment, surprised by the gesture, then tangled her fingers within his.

  And things felt . . . right.

  The cantina was dark and cool. The margaritas were heavily spiced with jalapeño, offering a stinging bite that soothed his wounds temporarily. The crunch of the tacos paired well with the shredded pork and black beans, and he attacked his third with zeal, as if eating like a champion could eventually make him win like one.

  He felt her stare on him in the shadows. He fell into silence, into his old patterns of going deep to analyze every motion and decision that could have made a difference in the race. Doubts assailed him, pushing him to wonder if, for the very first time in his life, he was wrong about a horse.

  “Do you always torture yourself like this?” she asked brusquely, leaning forward.

  His gaze snapped to hers. “I don’t like to lose,” he said. “You hired me to win. Not fumble spectacularly at the first challenge. And if you’re in this for the right reasons, you should be pissed, too.”

  “Oh, I’m pissed, all right.” Stubborn fury burned from those sea-glass eyes, sucking him into a twist of hunger and fascination. “Because I think you forgot our long game here. I did hire you to lose, Irish. I’d rather you lose spectacularly now before we face some of the most talented horses in the world at the Derby.”

  He frowned. “Look, I know you’re not used to this. But when a horse with that kind of speed can’t cross the finish line before poor closers, we have a problem.”

  “Did you think it was going to be easy?” she challenged, tipping her chin up. “Did you think this was some type of movie where you waltz in and start winning from the get-go? That Phoenix was magically going to beat all of his issues because he suddenly became friends with a goat? Or because he had stellar workouts in the safety of his own farm? Because if you did, I may have hired the wrong trainer.”

  He blew out a breath and challenged her back. “I’m trying to be real with you. If I don’t figure this shit out, we’re done. We’ve been working our asses off for months, and I—”

  “Expected more?”

  He muttered a curse. “Yeah. I expected more.”

  Her features softened. She took a long sip of her margarita, nibbled on a chip, and regarded him with a hard stare. “Well, we didn’t get more. He has another race coming up here in a few weeks. We have time to retrain and identify the problem. I still believe in him. Do you?”

  He rubbed his head and gave a short nod. “Of course.”

  “Good. Remember what you said after you saved Captain Hoof? You told me you don
’t quit when things get hard. And you don’t toss away people or animals because they’re not easy. You still believe it?”

  A chuckle rose up from his chest and escaped. She remembered his exact damn words. Where had she come from? How was she able to rip the same emotions from him and spin it so he understood? He was a cranky son of a bitch when he failed, but she didn’t seem to care, and she wasn’t intimidated by his temper or distance. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Good, then we’re on the same page. Let’s get the bill and go back to the hotel. We need some sleep before we regroup tomorrow. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  He got the bill, paid, and walked back to the Hilton. He walked her politely to the door and watched her use the key card to open it. “Hey, Irish.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I still believe in you, too. I hope you haven’t lost faith in what you do, because without it, we’ll never win.”

  Then she stepped into the room and shut the door softly behind her.

  Aidan closed his eyes. Pressed his forehead to the door and wondered what he’d do if she opened it up, invited him in, and offered to ease the doubts and pain of the day with her sweet mouth and generous heart.

  Smothering a groan, he gritted his teeth and backed away.

  Then went to his own room, alone.

  A week later, Aidan watched with frustration as Phoenix took the last turn and slowed down rather than speed up. The other three horses barely had enough run in them to threaten, but Phoenix was so distracted by their movements, it was almost as if he wanted them to catch up.

  To prove he could win? Or did he simply not care enough to push?

  Phoenix finally crossed the finish line, but his time was so poor, a dozen horses in a normal race would’ve blown by him.

  This wasn’t working.

  He shot a look at Harper. She watched the field, biting down on that lower lip, a concerned frown marring her brow. If Aidan couldn’t figure out the horse’s real problem, the racing season would be over before it even began. Phoenix was fine one-on-one, but the moment he joined a group of horses, he became anxious and unresponsive to Elmo’s signals.