Giving Chase (A Racing Romance) (Aspen Valley Series #2)

by Hannah Hooton

  ‘No, I’m sure it’ll all be fine,’ the girl replied and a pang of envy shot through Frankie. Why couldn’t she be as fearless as this girl obviously was?

  ‘Yes, I’m sure it will be,’ she agreed as the girl exited the bathroom. She nodded at herself and squared her shoulders. ‘It’ll all be fine.’

  *

  Pep talk complete, Frankie’s freshly-gained confidence made a nimble exit as, following the girl out into the pub, she caught sight of Rhys Bradford ordering a drink. A black biker’s helmet perched on the bar counter beside him like a sinister disembodied head. She wavered, wondering whether she could hide in the loos until Jack arrived. Too late, Rhys looked up and saw her teetering in the shadows. Frankie let out a strangled chuckle as his gaze flittered over her then carried onto to survey the rest of the pub.

  He didn’t even recognise her! Not even six hours ago he’d been effing and blinding at her and now he didn’t even have the decency to recognise her! Frankie stopped herself in the midst of her indignation.

  Why did she want him to recognise her? She didn’t want him to recognise her. Well, maybe when they were working alongside one another every day it wouldn’t be so flattering, but right now didn’t matter, surely?

  Frankie beamed and walked across to the bar. Right now, with her straight blonde hair falling about her shoulders and a pretty midi dress making her look more feminine than the mud-splattered jockey silks and helmet had earlier, being unrecognisable to Rhys Bradford suited her just fine. She even afforded herself a leisurely appraisal of her future work colleague. He was dressed in hip-hugging charcoal jeans and his dark hair curled over the collar of his black biker’s jacket, looking like Darth Vader’s evil son.

  A pity, she thought as she ordered her drink. He would be rather attractive if he wasn’t so arrogant. As it was, one could practically skydive off his ego.

  Frankie was just paying Joey, the ponytailed barman, when she heard the pub’s main door clatter closed. She took a deep breath before turning around. Some sixth sense which, through evolution, employees have developed to know when their bosses sneak up on them, told her Jack Carmichael had just entered the Golden Miller. She set a confident smile on her face and looked round.

  Jack was helping a pretty auburn-haired young woman out of her red coat by the door. His machismo and her petite femininity made them a perfect match. His striking blue eyes travelled around the pub.

  The smile she had ready for him froze when his gaze passed her by.

  Okay, maybe this being unrecognisable in a dress wasn’t such a bonus anymore.

  She was just about to call out to him when Jack recognised someone he did know.

  ‘Ah, Rhys,’ he said, walking across to the bar with his hand placed protectively in the small of his partner’s back. ‘Wasn’t expecting to see you here. How are you feeling after your fall?’

  Standing ten feet away, Frankie opened her mouth and shut it again. How was she meant to announce her existence now?

  ‘No lasting harm,’ Rhys shrugged. ‘Just annoying really. I reckon we would’ve won that race if Elsie Dee hadn’t been hampered.’

  Frankie sucked in her breath and clamped down on her bottom lip to keep herself from interrupting. The audacity of him! Elsie Dee had hampered her!

  ‘Well, she’s still fresh,’ Jack replied. ‘We can have another crack in a couple of weeks’ time. Can I get you a drink?’

  Rhys motioned to his orange juice and shook his head.

  ‘Let me. What are you and Pippa having?’

  ‘We were going to get a bottle and go sit in the restaurant. We’re meant to be meeting up with our new amateur, Francesca Cooper—’ He paused for another fruitless glance around the pub. ‘But she doesn’t appear to be here yet.’

  Frankie realised this should be her cue, but the stiffening in Rhys’s posture made her hesitate.

  ‘Frankie Cooper? The mad thing that brought us down earlier?’ Rhys sounded almost panicked. ‘Wait, she mentioned something, but I thought—I thought she was just being delusional.’

  Frankie couldn’t help herself. She gave a bark of laughter which, in the relative quiet of the sparsely-populated pub, sounded a lot louder than she’d anticipated. She covered her mouth with both her hands, feeling an embarrassed warmth tingle her cheeks.

  Rhys, Jack and Pippa all looked at her in astonishment.

  Frankie haltingly opened her hands to reveal her face. Recognition flooded through Rhys’s and Jack’s expressions.

  ‘Surprise!’ she squeaked.

  *

  Jack gave a disconcerted cough.

  ‘Frankie, er… hello. Sorry, I didn’t see you there.’ He strode over and she took his outstretched hand. She tried not to wince as his fingers crushed hers.

  ‘It’s the dress. It works as an invisibility cloak,’ she said. ‘Nice to see you again.’

  ‘Likewise.’ Still holding her hand, he drew her over to the rest of the party. ‘Frankie, I’d like you to meet Pippa, my fiancée. And I believe you might have already met Rhys, Aspen Valley’s first jockey.’

  ‘We’ve crossed paths,’ Frankie said with a wicked smile. ‘Hi Pippa. Rhys.’

  Rhys glared at her with undisguised dislike. His black eyes glinted, sending a shiver up her spine.

  ‘Right, well, shall we get a table?’ Jack suggested, looking from Frankie to Pippa. ‘Rhys, would you like to join us?’

  Rhys dragged his eyes away from Frankie to address their boss.

  ‘Thanks, but I won’t. I’m meeting someone.’

  With Jack gesturing towards the restaurant tables, Frankie shot Rhys a grin as she passed by him.

  ‘Nice to bump into you again.’

  Rhys cocked an eyebrow and nodded curtly. Just you wait, his expression read.

  *

  Their passage towards the tables was punctuated by excited gasps from Pippa.

  ‘Oh, look, Jack!’ she exclaimed, clutching his arm and pointing at the far wall. ‘They’ve got my paintings up. There’s the one of Aspen Valley and there’s that one of Helensvale from the top of the hill.’

  ‘Pippa’s an artist,’ Jack explained. He pulled out a seat for Pippa as they reached a vacant table, but she wasn’t paying any attention.

  ‘Look! There’s Emmie and Billy!’

  Frankie looked towards where Pippa was pointing. The pregnant girl she’d met in the bathroom was sitting with a young man a few tables away.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Jack muttered. ‘Is the whole of Aspen Valley here tonight?’

  ‘I must go say hi.’ Pippa looked apologetically at Frankie. ‘I’m sorry. Will you excuse me for a minute?’

  ‘Of course,’ Frankie replied. ‘Take your time.’

  With Pippa clattering across the stone floors in her heels, Frankie took her seat opposite Jack.

  ‘She looks a bit above riding weight to be working at Aspen Valley,’ she said, nodding towards Emmie.

  Jack shrugged.

  ‘For now. Emmie was one of my best work riders until she got pregnant. Lucky for you she did. The new job of amateur was hers originally. She’s been working as my secretary for the past five months.’

  Frankie again thought how fearless Emmie had seemed in the Ladies.

  ‘Brave girl,’ she commented.

  Jack’s mouth twitched into a smile.

  ‘I’m not that much a tyrant to work for.’

  Frankie gasped.

  ‘Oh no! I didn’t mean that. I just meant she looks so young and now about to be a parent…’ Her voice trailed away, but she was relieved when Jack chuckled.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m just teasing.’

  She smiled.

  ‘I’m really grateful for the opportunity you’ve given me. Riding for you and being a part of Aspen Valley is something I’ve only ever dreamed of.’

  ‘You’re a talented rider. It must run in the family. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that I’d given the job to your brother. Then…’ This time it was Jack’s turn to
trail off. He swallowed uneasily. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up.’

  For a moment Frankie struggled to draw breath. She looked down, letting her fringe mask her eyes. Slowly, the iron clasp around her chest loosened. When she looked up at Jack’s awkward expression, she was composed once more. On the outside at least.

  ‘It’s okay. It’s been five years now, believe it or not. Almost to the day. Still feels like it happened yesterday though sometimes, doesn’t it?’

  Jack ducked his head in surprise.

  ‘Five years already? God, yes. I suppose it must be. Rhys has been with us for five Cheltenhams, if you include last season.’

  Frankie grinned. When life seemed to go by at a hurricane pace, she also kept track of the years by Cheltenham Festivals. She recalled as a child her mother once asking her and her brother, Seth, if they knew how many seasons there were in a year and what they were called. Nine-year-old Seth had shouted, ‘Yes! I know! I know! There’s two: the flat season and the jumps season!’

  A pang of nostalgia hit Frankie as she remembered the exuberant boy she had hero-worshipped. She was saved by the reappearance of Pippa.

  ‘I’m back,’ she grinned, slipping into her seat beside Jack. ‘He hasn’t been giving you too much of a hard time, has he?’

  Jack looked offended at the suggestion.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You were a right grump at the start of the evening because of your car—’

  ‘It’s not a car. It’s a Land Rover.’

  ‘Well, whatever it is, it’s broken.’ Pippa turned to Frankie. ‘That’s why we were late this evening. Jack’s Land Rover wouldn’t start so we had to come in my car.’

  ‘I still think we should have persevered. It was probably just a loose connection somewhere. Whatever condition it’s in, it’s probably more reliable than yours.’

  Frankie watched in envious wonder at the couple arguing good-naturedly with each other. Despite the occasional insult thrown, there was no malice in their tones. She noticed Pippa habitually touching the diamond ring on her finger, her thumb grazing it affectionately.

  ‘Anyway,’ Pippa said, bringing their exchange to a smooth decisive end. ‘Back to the purpose of this evening. Frankie, how long have you been a jockey?’

  ‘Well, I spent a couple of years riding in point-to-points after graduating from racing school. Then I got a job as amateur for David McKenna earlier this year but then he closed down—’ Frankie paused as she realised she’d lost half her audience.

  Pippa was looking beyond her, a frown furrowing her forehead. Frankie swivelled round. All she could see was the young couple, Emmie and Billy, sitting, eating their meals. Except…Frankie looked closer at Emmie. She didn’t look very comfortable. The girl suddenly gave a gasp and reached forward, pitching over her glass of juice and clutching her side with one hand.

  ‘Oh, God. Emmie!’ Pippa said, jumping to her feet.

  Frankie spun back around as Pippa’s chair crashed to the ground. Her eyes met Jack’s. His were wide with fear.

  ‘Oh, shit,’ he muttered.

  Chapter 3

  At a loss as to what else to do, Frankie followed Pippa and Jack over to the neighbouring table.

  ‘Emmie, are you okay?’ Pippa asked. ‘Is it time?’

  Emmie looked up, her face contorting with pain.

  ‘I think it must be.’

  ‘Already?’ Billy said.

  ‘What do you mean “already”? I’ve been carrying this baby for nearly nine months!’

  ‘I mean all of a sudden like this?’

  ‘I’ve been getting pains all day, but that one was a bugger,’ she muttered through clenched teeth.

  The ashen-faced father-to-be continued to stare at Emmie, hands still clenching his knife and fork with a chunk of roast chicken still attached. Frankie sympathised.

  ‘Okay, no need to panic,’ Pippa said, her voice wavering. ‘Let’s get you to the hospital. Billy, is your car outside?’

  Billy swallowed and dropped his knife. It fell to the floor with a clatter.

  ‘Yes, but um—’

  ‘What, Billy?’ Jack said irritably.

  ‘Well, I might have had a pint or two too many…’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ hissed Jack. ‘You’re over the limit, aren’t you?’

  ‘I didn’t think I would be driving all the way to Bristol tonight,’ Billy defended himself. ‘I thought we’d just go home afterwards…out of sight of any police.’

  ‘Ooooh!’ Emmie cried as another contraction took hold. Pippa squeezed her hand until it had passed.

  ‘That’s it,’ she soothed. She coaxed Emmie out of her chair. ‘Never mind about the car. We’ll go in mine.’

  ‘Your car?’ Jack said. ‘It’s not exactly the most reliable. We were taking a chance just driving it here from the yard.’

  ‘Well, do you have any better ideas?’

  Frankie followed Jack’s gaze back to the bar. Rhys was now sitting in the company of a flamingo-legged brunette, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding behind him.

  ‘He’s got his motorbike helmet with him,’ Pippa said, reading his thoughts. ‘I doubt whether Emmie will go for that. We’ll have to take a chance in my car.’

  ‘With all due respect, Pippa, I don’t fancy breaking down halfway to Bristol and having to give birth on the side of the A37,’ Emmie said.

  ‘Shall we call an ambulance then?’

  Emmie shook her head.

  ‘No time,’ she gasped. She clutched Pippa’s shoulder for support.

  ‘We need someone with a car who isn’t drunk then.’

  Frankie, standing in the background, drew in her breath as all eyes turned to her. Damn. Some induction this was turning out to be. She took an unsteady step backwards.

  ‘Oh no,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘But you do have a car, don’t you?’ Pippa urged.

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘And you haven’t had anything to drink, have you?’ Jack took up the plea.

  Frankie hesitated, taking in the four desperate faces before her. Billy still had his napkin tucked into his collar.

  ‘You haven’t seen my car,’ she tried one last time.

  ‘Does it have four wheels, a reliable engine and steering control?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Then that’s three things more than Pippa’s.’

  Frankie caved, at the same time wondering how they’d managed to drive to the Golden Miller with less than four wheels.

  ‘Oh, dear. Okay. It’s parked outside.’

  *

  The party exited the Golden Miller, Pippa and Billy supporting Emmie along the pavement. The first spots of rain were riding in on the cool evening breeze. Frankie reluctantly gestured towards the red and white car parked thirty feet away.

  ‘There she is.’

  A landslide of horror paled Jack’s face and his step faltered.

  ‘You drive a Mini?’

  ‘Come on, Jack,’ Pippa intervened, brushing past him. ‘Stop stalling.’

  The Mini’s indicators flashed hello as Frankie beeped the locks open. With Pippa’s help, they managed to ease Emmie into the front passenger seat. In his haste to get in the back, Billy smacked his head on the doorframe. He paused to rub his forehead.

  ‘Ow, that hurt,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Not as much as this fucking does!’ Emmie yelled from within. ‘Hurry up!’

  Billy clambered in, followed by Pippa. Jack folded himself low and somehow managed to wedge himself into the small remaining space on the backseat.

  ‘Can we go now, please?’ Emmie begged. She lent her head back and Billy comfortingly stroked her damp hair.

  ‘We’re off, don’t stress,’ Frankie said as calmly as she could. With trembling hands, she buckled herself in and gave Emmie a quick smile. ‘Where are we going then?’

  ‘Southmead Hospital,’ Billy provided.

  ‘Southmead?’ Jack said. ‘That’s the
far side of Bristol! Why the hell didn’t you choose somewhere closer?’

  ‘Because Billy was born there. Now, is there anything else you’d like to object to, Jack?’ Emmie growled.

  Reversing into the High Street, Frankie glanced at the three faces in her rearview mirror. Their shocked expressions told her Emmie wasn’t usually so forthright.

  Another contraction had Emmie grimacing in pain again and her hand shot forward to slam into the dashboard. The radio flashed into life. Bonnie Tyler’s husky voice swelled inside the compacted car as Holding Out For A Hero boomed out of the speakers. Spinning the wheel and putting her foot down, Frankie was vaguely aware of Rhys Bradford and the brunette exiting the pub as they roared by. Their disbelieving stares followed the Mini’s full-to-capacity progress down the street.

  *

  ‘Billy, are you timing the contractions?’ Pippa asked as they navigated the streets of Bristol in the drizzle.

  ‘Er, about two minutes?’

  ‘No, Billy. You can’t estimate like that,’ Pippa corrected him gently. ‘And they’re not as close as that—’

  ‘It bloody feels it!’ Emmie groaned from the front. ‘Oh God, here comes another. How far away is the hospital?’

  ‘Not far, not far,’ Frankie soothed. Despite the low traffic, it had still taken them a good half hour to reach the city and according to the Sat Nav, the hospital was another ten minutes away.

  ‘Quick! Get your watch ready, Billy,’ Pippa said as Emmie gave another groan. ‘Ready, steady, go!’

  ‘Pippa,’ Jack spoke up. ‘It’s not a race.’

  Frankie glanced at him in her mirror. His face was briefly lit by the streetlamps rushing past. He looked stressed but a lot more composed than he had half an hour ago. He had been very quiet up until this point. Frankie conceded he was probably having difficulty breathing, folded up like a contortionist as he was, let alone talking.

  ‘Ooh, this is so not comfortable,’ Emmie said with a grimace. ‘I need to… I need to…’

  Frankie shot her passenger a nervous look as she unbuckled her seatbelt and began to move around.

  ‘What? What do you need to do?’ she asked. ‘We’re nearly there. It’s okay. Come on. Just ten minutes more. What are you doing?’