Searching for Beautiful

by Jennifer Probst

  She sniffed haughtily, even though the compliment was nice. She batted her lashes coquettishly. "I don't know nothin' 'bout betting on no horses, Mr. Wolfe."

  He looked up as if annoyed she'd broken his concentration. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way."

  "What's the hard way?"

  "I educate you on narrowing down the field until you decide what horse is best for you. We calculate speed ratings. Check breeding, trainers, jockeys. Look at their past performance. See if they dropped in class. Glance at the odds. Then make an overall pick using all that information."

  She shuddered. A root canal sounded more fun than that. "What's the easy way?"

  "You look at the names and numbers and bet on your favorite."

  "Sold. The easy way it is. Give me the form." His suffering sigh told her he was disappointed in her choice but she didn't care. She certainly didn't have to worry about her weight anymore, so while he took his time gathering all the useless information, she'd make her way through the food carts.

  Gen glanced down at the list of horses. Disappointed Dreamer. The inner bell rang and she stabbed her finger at lucky number four. "That's the one."

  "Umm, yeah. Not a great choice. Let me show you how to read the stats. This column shows his past races, and he hasn't won a race since April. Looked promising, but something must have happened and he's been dropping ever since. These are the speed numbers. None of the handicappers picked him even to show."

  "I don't care. What type of bet do I do?"

  "I would highly suggest a few bucks on show. You can do win, place, or show. Win is first, place is first or second, and show means he can come in first, second, or third. Odds are twenty to one, so it's a long shot. The morning line favorite is going off at three to one."

  He spread open the page and showed her the numbers. "See, number one is the favorite because he won his last three races. This is the one to beat. Want to throw a few bucks on him so you get the feel of the win?"

  A dark cloud settled over her. Winning was always so important to David. Be the best. Be graceful with the ones you defeat, but make sure you come out ahead. She was so sick and tired of trying to be that person, just like poor Disappointed Dreamer probably was trying to keep up with the stupid number one horse. Maybe his trainer wouldn't let him run his own race. Maybe he wouldn't be first all the time, but at least he'd keep his head high because he tried his best. Well, forget number one and his victories. She was done with betting on favorites.

  Gen practically spit out the words. "Screw number one. I want the four horse. Give me money."

  Wolfe cocked his head and studied her. His lips tugged in a grin, but he just nodded and reached into his pocket to slide a twenty at her. "Here you go." She scooped up the bill and kept her hand out. "What?"

  "I want more."

  "More? Sweetheart, twenty bucks on a long shot is plenty--you're just gonna lose it. I'll give you more later." He reached over for the lemonade and took a sip.

  She shook her head hard. "I want to bet one hundred dollars on him to win."

  Wolfe choked. Gen waited patiently. "Are you nuts?"

  "Are you a multimillionaire, Wolfe?" He lapsed into silence. "Just what I thought. I'll give you your ten percent bookie fee, but right now I want a hundred. Oh, and an extra twenty for snacks."

  He reached back into his wallet, peeled off the bills, and handed them over to her. Damn, he was grumpy when he didn't get his way. "Thanks. I'll be back."

  "I need to show you how to place a bet!"

  "I see a line up over there. You finish tracking your statistics, I'll figure it out. See ya."

  She walked away, feeling an odd buzz in her veins. Like she had an instinct something big was going to happen. Gen waited her turn and eavesdropped on a bunch of different conversations, finally narrowing in on a group of three guys arguing over the race.

  "The only reason you're betting the four is because you got dumped, man. Don't let her take your money, too."

  "Yeah, there's plenty of hot women around you can sleep with this weekend. Just forget about her. Pick number one and get a win."

  The dumpee looked generally miserable. Shaggy blond hair, ruddy cheeks, stubble, and clothes a bit wrinkled told her he was indulging in the breakup blues. Poor guy. His friends flanked him on either side, beer in hand, trying to do the manly thing by insulting him enough so he was happy. Men were an odd gender she didn't think she'd ever figure out. They were young, probably college age, and seemed more intent on looking around for hot women than horses.

  The dumpee sighed. "Who cares if I win if I really lost?"

  His friends groaned in horror at the emotion. "Ah shit, I can't hear this all weekend. We're here to have fun, dude. Make some money. Drink. Get lucky."

  Gen couldn't help it. She tapped one of them on the shoulder. "Excuse me, but I think the four is gonna win."

  All three of them checked her out, and it seemed she passed the test. The dumpee's companions gave her broad, welcoming grins. "Hey, that's great. This is Ed, I'm Tom, and this here is Steve."

  "Hi, I'm Gen." She focused on Ed. "I'm sorry about your girlfriend."

  The other two winced, but Ed nodded. "Thanks. It sucks. We've been together for two years but she fell in love with some actor in her class. He's got bad teeth but she didn't care. Said he was exciting and artistic."

  She clucked in sympathy. "If she didn't appreciate you, it's better this happened now. But I know that won't make you feel better. You're lucky to have awesome friends to try and help."

  Tom and Steve puffed up. "Why don't you hang with us and watch the race? We're going up to the rail. Did you come with your girlfriends?" They looked around hopefully.

  "No, sorry. Can you help me though? What do I say to put a hundred bucks on number four to win?"

  "Whoa, you really like four, huh?" Tom asked.

  "Yeah. I'm tired of the cool horses winning all the time. I think he has a shot."

  Ed gave a small grin. "Me, too. I'm sticking with my bet."

  Steve shrugged. "Your money. I'm taking the one. Gen, when you get to the booth, say you want race one, a hundred dollars to win on the four horse. Got it?"

  "Thanks. I got a feeling."

  The Black Eyed Peas song played in her brain as she got her ticket. Wolfe wasn't at the picnic table so she decided to go to the rail with the guys. They were really nice to her, joking around and flirty in an innocent type of way. Had she ever felt that young? Lately, at only twenty-six years old, she felt as if she'd aged a hundred years. It was nice to relax in the hot sun and pretend she had no other cares in the world except winning on a horse.

  She clutched her ticket and peered over the gate, cursing her wimpy five feet. Before she realized, Steve hauled her up and onto his shoulders. A squeal escaped her mouth. "I'm too heavy for you. Ah!" She frantically gripped at his shoulders for balance while the guys broke into laughter. The people surrounding them gave a cheer.

  "Are you kidding? You're light as a feather. See, now you can see the horses."

  Gen relaxed a bit. He was right. It was actually kind of cool; she'd never been on a guy's shoulders before. The stream of horses pranced in front, bodies gleaming, heads tossing, and then were guided into their separate gates. All of a sudden, there was a buzz and the announcer screamed over the speakers, "And they're off!"

  She never knew a race could be so long. She never knew a race could be so short. The horses flew around the track at a rapid pace, dirt flying up from their hooves, jockeys leaning over, the pace punishing and brutal as they fought each other for space.

  Disappointed Dreamer was dead last. The number one horse--Rapid Rose--held the lead, keeping tight to the rail. The crowd screamed different names out loud, gazes pinned to the field of ten, and slowly, ever so slowly, the number four began to inch his way toward the middle.

  The scarlet uniform stood out boldly among the jockeys. Head tucked, legs a blur, the rider made up ground in rapid time, and they neared
the finish line. Other horses dropped one by one, with Rapid Rose still holding the lead, but Disappointed Dreamer hit his stride and closed in so fast Gen couldn't believe it was possible.

  She yelled so loud her throat hurt, and Steve bounced up and down, so she grasped his head to make sure she didn't topple. And then number four was neck and neck with number one, and they battled for two long, long seconds.

  Disappointed Dreamer crossed the finish line a few noses ahead.

  Steve reached up and easily plucked her from his shoulders. The moment her feet hit the ground she danced like a crazy person. Her heart raced and her palms sweat and raw adrenaline pumped through her system. The photo finish was quickly resolved. It was official.

  "Holy crap, you made over two grand!" Tom said, shaking his head. "What a race."

  "We won, we won," she screeched, hugging Ed. "I told you I had a feeling."

  Suddenly, a cold voice broke through the revelry, making her stop and freeze.

  "What the hell is going on?"

  She jerked around and stared into a pair of icy blue eyes.

  Uh-oh. Now she had another feeling.

  She was in trouble.

  eight

  IF THERE WAS one thing he lived as his motto, it was "Be cool."

  Not much rattled him anymore. After a brutal past and hard journey to get where he was, Wolfe decided he was pretty much done with all those highs and lows of emotion. That's why he did better with women for the short term. He didn't have a jealous bone in his body. And he might get a bit irritated at work, but nothing really moved him to show actual anger.

  Until now.

  He was about to pound on Pretty Boy's face and he had no idea why.

  She'd been on his fucking shoulders. With her crotch jammed in his neck. The tight threesome seemed quite enchanted with her win--not to mention he was a bit amazed at the four horse himself--but it was the expression on her face that made him want to go apeshit.

  Happy. For the first time in a long time, she looked happy.

  And it wasn't because of him.

  Now, where had that weird stuff come from? Wolfe narrowed his gaze as the college dudes looked at each other nervously and took a step back. Before David, Wolfe had been known to double-date with Gen and speak briefly about their other relationships. They'd agreed on the rules beforehand. No crazy sex stories. Sure, he liked to tease her, but they were usually made up to get a rise out of her. They stuck with minor details, some emotion, and a lot of humor. After David, she began to clam up fast, and he'd lost her within the year. It hurt, and he was pissed, but he kept telling himself if she was happy, it was his duty to swallow the disappointment. He just usually . . . missed her. But not in an unkempt, raw type of way.

  Right now? Yeah, not so much.

  He had no time to ponder or question the strange mess bubbling up inside. Gen rolled her eyes. "Wolfe, you're scaring them." She jerked her head toward him and spoke to her crew. "Wolfe's not my boyfriend, just a friend. You're not gonna get body slammed. This is Ed, Tom, and Steve."

  The dudes relaxed and tried to do that friendly bonding ritual, but he remained cold. Gen was vulnerable, and he wasn't about to have her played by some guys on a weekend to get laid. One of the guys raised a hand but didn't come forward. "Hey. Nice to meet you."

  Gen's navy blue eyes actually sparkled. Damn, she was pretty. He'd forgotten the old Gen and her bubbly personality. She loved practical jokes, bawdy humor and having fun. A pang pierced him deep. He'd really lost her these past two years. Only now he was beginning to realize she had just been a ghost of her former self.

  "Got nervous when I couldn't find you. Thanks for keeping an eye on her." He nodded at the guys and motioned her forward. "Let's cash that ticket of yours."

  She bounced toward him, grabbed his hand, and spoke to her admirers. "Ed also won, so we should go together. Hey, why don't you join us? Wolfe got a picnic table, and you can help me with the next race."

  Irritation flowed freely, but their enthusiastic reply cut him off.

  "Thanks, that sounds great!" Ed announced.

  Steve and Tom heartily agreed. "Maybe some of your beginner's luck will rub off on us."

  Wolfe remained silent as they headed to the ticket counter and collected their winnings. Seemed like Ed and Gen had bonded, since they both did a little dance with their money in hand. How sweet.

  Suddenly she pressed two bills into his palm. "Here you go. Two hundred dollars, ten percent for the loan. I don't think I'll need any more money from you today, so thanks."

  Uh-oh.

  In seconds, the mood chilled. Three guys gazed at him as if he was the scum of the earth.

  "You made her pay interest?" Ed asked. "I thought you guys were friends."

  He refused to shift his feet. "Just a joke."

  Gen laughed. "Yeah, right! You never joke about money--you probably would've sicced a loan shark on me."

  Shit. Tom fisted his hands, and Steve practically spit in disgust. "That's lame, man," Tom said. "Ed was short this week so I lent him money. No interest though. But I guess friendship means different things to different people."

  Gen shrugged it off, completely clueless to the pissing contest currently going on in her honor. "Nah, it's okay. Millionaires are kinda tight with their money anyway."

  Steve choked. "You're a millionaire?"

  Double shit. This was going nowhere. Wolfe glared, giving Steve the intimidating look he saved for his business meetings. "Forget it, I'm not explaining. Gen and I go way back."

  "I bet." Ed glared, not the least bit intimidated, and hooked his arm through Gen's. "Come on, I'll buy you a hot dog."

  "But I won more money than you."

  "Score another race and you buy the beer."

  "Deal. Coming, Wolfe?"

  "Yeah. Coming." He trailed behind the chattering group and wondered how the day could get worse.

  THREE HOURS LATER, WOLFE realized he shouldn't have asked such a question to the universe.

  He sat alone, racing form in his lap, and watched the growing crowd at the picnic table. Mostly men. Surrounding Gen. Not sure how it had happened.

  She'd won race two with another long shot on Magic Dude. He'd followed her to the rail, watched another of his horses lose, but managed to keep her off Ed's shoulders. Or Tom's. Or whoever the hell they were.

  Somehow, in all her excitement, she had managed to recruit two new followers. One with a military cut and roving eyes, the other his skinny sidekick, who looked harmless. Wolfe already knew it was impossible to win three races in a row on raw luck, so he stuck to his original plan. He picked Hammering Halo at three to one, since they were racing on turf and the horse had the best grass trainer in history.

  Gen scored again on a ten-to-one shot.

  After that, time blurred. The men pegged her to have a magic touch, and every time she stood on line to place a bet, more people followed her back to the table. The latest recruits had some girls in it, but they seemed more interested in Gen's ability to attract all the single men at the racetrack.

  He tried to control his temper and be happy she was finally eating again. Seemed Ed and she had become close foodie buddies, plowing their way through fish tacos, hot dogs, beer, and pretzels.

  He'd never been good at speaking with strangers or making friends. Wolfe fought off the urge to grab her and go home, where it was just them and they could settle back into a quiet conversation and general teasing. But he also realized she was distracted, and the moment she left the track she'd remember the shitstorm she'd left behind. He couldn't stand the idea of the sadness leaking back into her eyes, or the disappearance of her smile, which always squeezed his heart and made him happy. No. He'd just keep an eye on her and try to enjoy her excitement.

  Ed whispered something in her ear. Gen tilted her head up, laughing. His arm came around her shoulders and he pulled her in for a fast, hard hug, strangely more intimate than a full mouth-to-mouth kiss. WTF?

  Wolfe jumped up.
"Time to go!" he declared loudly.

  All gazes turned toward him.

  Gen blinked. "We're only on race four. What's up?"

  Everyone kept staring. He hadn't been this off-kilter in years. "Figured you'd be tired and we'd head home early?"

  Ed piped up. "She can't leave when she's on a roll! Doesn't that mess with juju or something?"

  "I think that's baseball, dude," Steve said. "If you wanna head out, we'll make sure she gets home safe."

  Wolfe's voice iced. "Don't think so. Gen doesn't leave my sight. Get it?"

  Gen gave a sigh. "You're losing, aren't you? Are you getting cranky?"

  For God's sake, he suddenly felt like a toddler. "No, I'm not losing. Listen, if you want to stay, that's fine. Just didn't want you to lose all your money."

  She gave a blinding grin with perfect white teeth. The woman could do a Trident commercial. "Not gonna happen. I'm rich today!"

  The crowd closed back in on her, getting her take on the fourth race, and he went back to his picnic table. Alone. Just the way he liked it. No interruptions or distractions.

  Cool.

  He lost the next two. Gen won. So did everyone else, since half of the park realized she was on a blessed run and wanted a piece of the action. He left to get a beer, and when he came back, she'd officially lost race six. Sad faces surrounded her, so he went to check if they were packing up for the day. About time. He'd never heard of anyone with such a long winning streak.

  "Sorry, sweetheart. Happens to all of us eventually."

  Ed patted her shoulder. "We'll get the next one."

  Gen was already studying the form in front of her, leafing to the next race. "I had a bad feeling about the last one. Should've held back. My skin is tickling again, so I think we can do this."

  Wolfe put up his hands in surrender. "Your call. Let me know. I'm here if you have any questions."

  She was already back to ignoring him, seemingly entranced by the field of six running in the next race. Wolfe went back to his table, caught between amusement and irritation at how quickly he'd been replaced at the track. Seemed to be a pattern. She was finally out of David's clutches, and had now recruited a whole new batch of men to be her friends. Seemed she gave them a hell of a lot more attention than she had given him these past two years.

  The spiteful thought made his temper even darker.