Searching for Beautiful

by Jennifer Probst

  He watched as she lost the next three races in a row and he picked up a couple of wins. Finally. Her crowd began to disperse as the magic disappeared and she was left with her original crew.

  His phone convulsed like it was possessed. Wolfe scrolled through the text messages and voice mails, which were getting more frantic, and knew he didn't have much more time to hide her. Kate would get into the car and track them down. Alexa would call Sawyer, who'd tell Julietta, and then he'd be in trouble. His gut said she needed one more day to process before he took her back. So he bought the precious time by texting to a dozen people that she was fine and they'd be returning tomorrow. Then turned off his phone.

  Screw it.

  Wolfe glanced at the field for race nine. What a mess. A dozen horses, most of which hadn't raced before, and the odds were all over the place. He wouldn't even trust the Clocker Lawton tip sheet on this one, so Wolfe decided to scrap it. He tossed his form and his empty bottle, then headed toward Gen.

  "One last bet, or are you ready? You did great today."

  Gen looked up. There was an odd light in her eyes he recognized well. Sheer determination, fierce will, and stubborn pride.

  It was pure nightmare.

  Suddenly his heart began to thump. "Gen, what are you thinking?"

  She smiled. Even Steve and Tom looked a little cowed by her. "Last race. Last shot. Number six."

  He glanced at the monitor: fifteen to one. Not good in this mix-up, but at this point she couldn't lose much, right? "What's the name?"

  "Phoenix Rising."

  He swallowed. Yeah, this could be bad. Especially if she took it as some kind of sign. Wolfe forced a laugh. "Sweetheart, these horses have never run before. You had some beginner's luck, but placing a bet on a name is fun, not practical. Let's take your winnings, get a steak dinner, and call it a day."

  "I have three words for you, Wolfe."

  He tried not to panic, but he already recognized the craziness. She had a stubborn streak that rivaled no other. If you told Gen no, she only got more determined to prove herself. He remembered when he joked and said she'd never be able to pull an A on her Italian final back at NYU. She was a science wiz, but sucked at languages, so he'd had a field day teasing her while almost flunking her family's second language. What did she do?

  Immersed herself in Italian for a week and refused to speak English in the house. Then scored an A on the exam.

  She was scary.

  "What three words?"

  Gen smiled. "Let it ride."

  Ed looked worried but slowly nodded. "It's the only thing left to do. The only move left. If this horse wins, it'll be a sign."

  Wolfe stared. "What sign?"

  "A sign I wasn't meant for my girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. If Phoenix wins, it means I'll rise from the ashes and find a new love."

  Steve groaned. "That's the stupidest thing I ever heard, bro. It's a horse. Not some kind of screwed-up analogy of your love life!"

  Wolfe almost lost it, but Gen nodded as if she agreed and believed he was sane. "Ed, I completely agree. But we need to make a statement to the universe. Let's bet it all."

  Ed clasped her hand as if they were married and had just asked the bank for a mortgage. "Yes. Let's do it."

  "Are you nuts?" Tom yelled. "People only do that in the movies. We need the money for gas and food and stuff!"

  Ed shook his head. "This is bigger than that, man. You're gonna have to back me on this."

  Wolfe came out of his trance and shook his head. "Hell, no, you've both lost it. Names of the horses mean nothing when it comes to winning a race. You'll only be disappointed and more depressed. Walk away on a high note. I mean it, let's go."

  She clucked her tongue in sympathy. "I'm sorry you don't understand, but I need to do this. If I take the risk and believe, something wonderful will happen. It's time to watch the Phoenix rise from the ashes. Come on, Ed."

  Wolfe watched her walk away with his mouth half-open. What had just happened? When had he lost control of her and this whole nutty day?

  Steve cleared his throat. "Damn. We'll be fronting him all weekend."

  "What the hell does a phoenix have to do with a horse?" Tom asked.

  "It's an analogy of rebirth," Wolfe said. "The phoenix is destroyed and rises above the ashes."

  "Did Gen break up with someone, too?" Tom asked.

  Wolfe didn't answer. Ah crap, it had nothing to do with losing the money. He was afraid if the horse lost she would spiral back into a deep depression. She was putting way too much into a horse that had no clue it meant more to her than a race. She was looking for forgiveness. Hope.

  "Do you guys believe in religion or anything?" he asked.

  They both shared a look. "Umm, we went to church when we were younger. We believe in God."

  "Good. Pray hard we win. 'Cause if we don't, it's gonna be a disaster."

  GEN CLUTCHED THE TICKET in her hand and trained her gaze on the field of twelve. Number six was dark brown, with a beautiful silky mane and stocking legs. His jockey wore navy blue. When he trotted past her on the way to the gate, she noticed the spring in his step, and thought it was a good sign.

  Until he slammed his head against the gate and refused to go in.

  Wolfe's expression made her palms sweat. He looked a bit worried. He never looked like that. She was so used to him being in control of every situation, the idea he could be nervous about her losing a silly race made her wonder why she was making such a big deal of it.

  Because.

  David didn't believe in chance, or luck, or God. Once she had. After two years of being with him, she didn't know anymore. He had consistently showed her how science was a tool, how odds were calculated and coincidence was just a blip on the monitor screen that really meant nothing.

  Slowly, she'd begun to lose her sense of magic. Rationally, she realized the six horse was nothing but a target of her current heartache, an attempt to regain a mysterious emotion she believed may have died.

  Simply put, she didn't care.

  Gen needed Phoenix Rising to win.

  They finally got him loaded into the gate. A few precious seconds ticked by. The doors exploded open and they were off.

  The field was a mass of pounding legs clustered together in a tight herd. Phoenix was in the middle of the pack, holding his own but not doing spectacularly. She chewed on her lip while the guys yelled encouragement at the horse and the field rounded the first bend. Dirt flew. Ears pinned, the navy flag streamed in the air, slowly inching forward.

  From the back of the pack, the eight horse flew past the mishmash and took the lead. Damn. He was gray. She'd heard about gray horses being lucky.

  Phoenix held his own, and as they neared the second turn, the space between them closed. Ten inches. Six. Four. Three.

  Ed screamed, "Go, you motherfucker! Go!"

  Neck and neck, they neared the finish, the jockeys' whips nipping their flanks, hooves digging in, eyes fierce with the lure of victory.

  They flew over the finish line together.

  "Did he win?" Steve screamed. "Did he win?"

  "I don't know! Fuck! I don't know!" Tom moaned, pacing back and forth. The crowd muttered in excitement, all trained on the board in front, waiting for the results. Ed didn't speak, just stared at the field.

  Heart beating madly, Gen choked for breath, and then a warm, firm grip surrounded her. She looked down, and Wolfe's fingers clasped hers, as if they had always belonged there.

  Wolfe smiled. "He won."

  "How do you know?"

  Those beautiful blue eyes darkened with a whisper of something deep. "I just know."

  The word photo disappeared from the screen.

  Number six, Phoenix Rising, was posted in the first slot.

  Number eight was listed in the second.

  "We won." Ed turned toward her, pure joy skating over his face. "We won, Gen!"

  He grabbed her and spun her around, breaking the hold of Wolfe's grip. The guys whooped an
d shouted, spilling beer and pounding backs in a whirlwind of activity. When they showed the magic tickets, she came out with thirty thousand dollars and an IRS form. Ed pocketed two grand.

  She walked in a daze as the boys celebrated, talking about champagne and dinners and bar hopping. Wolfe walked beside her and stopped at the front gate. "You're coming with us, right?" Ed asked. "You're my lucky charm. Let's get some dinner and relax. Get to know one another."

  Steve and Tom stood behind, trying to be cool. Wolfe took a step back and said nothing.

  Uh-oh. She caught the interested gleam in Ed's eye and wondered how she'd once again trapped herself into hurting another man. Still, it had been an incredible day and she'd never forget him. Gen raised herself on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

  "I just broke off an engagement, Ed," she told him. "I'm a wreck. But today, for a few hours, I forgot. I had a blast and I'll never forget you, but I have to go home now."

  She waited for puppy dog eyes and a crestfallen expression. Instead, he nodded, brought her hand to his lips, and kissed her palm. "You're a hell of a woman. Thanks for today. It was a sign for me, too. Tracey wasn't for me."

  "And you're a hell of a man. You deserve more." Gen smiled, said good-bye to the other guys, and made her way back to the car with Wolfe. A strange lightness poured through her, as if the universe had just told her things would work out. Maybe not right away, or next week. But Phoenix Rising had won, against all the odds, and maybe there was magic in the world after all.

  "You okay?"

  She glanced toward him. He leaned back in the driver's seat, hands wrapped around the wheel. Ready to take her away from any demons following them. What would she do without him?

  "Yeah. I won more than you today."

  "You did." He started the ignition and pulled out.

  "Where are we going now?"

  "Prime rib, baby. On you. Up for it?"

  She settled back in the leather seat and grinned. "Hell, yeah."

  nine

  WOLFE KNEW EXACTLY when the guilt hit.

  They'd just ordered their meal at Mouzon House. Offering fresh farm-to-table food in an intimate setting, the place was perfect for conversation, quiet, and culinary genius. Wolfe's background in Italian dining taught him one thing. Simple didn't mean average. A five-star dish was based on quality ingredients used to showcase the flavors without a lot of fancy stuff getting in the way.

  Too bad he still couldn't cook.

  She'd been upbeat and chatty on the drive, but now a shadow passed over her features. Her shoulders slumped and she stared at her plate, lost in another world. Somewhere not as safe.

  "You missed the bread." He pushed the basket over and breathed in the scent of steamy dough and rosemary. "Rip away, I can get more."

  Gen shook her head. "No thanks. Carbs aren't smart. I shouldn't have had that pizza either last night."

  He raised a brow. "You used to plow through the whole basket, leave me with the crumbs, and have never once been overweight. Where'd you come up with that crap?"

  "David."

  The name shot like a bullet and shredded through denial. He fought the blistering anger again at the asshole's ability to make her question everything about herself--from her career, to her sex life, to her damn weight.

  He sharpened his voice. "You work out regularly. I'd also bet you're underweight now and could use some bread. Try a piece."

  A ghost of a smile passed her lips. "You're bossy."

  "That a surprise?"

  She tore off a piece and nibbled. Then closed her eyes in delight. "Oh, this is good. It's got garlic, too. Better not breathe on you later."

  He snatched up a slice and munched. "Now we'll both reek. Did he make you doubt yourself?"

  She jerked. Wolfe knew well the best way to grab a secret is the art of the surprise attack. Sawyer had taught him the move well, trying to pull information from him he'd tried to lock down inside. "No," she said softly.

  Lie.

  He didn't challenge her. Just nodded. "Good. Because if he did, that would be a major reason not to get married. Not that I'm an expert, but I think you're supposed to inspire confidence in your partner. Right?"

  "Right."

  The waiter interrupted them with the appetizer. The crawfish beignets were the specialty and had the delicious crunch and flavor as if they had been plucked straight from the lake. Damn good.

  "He's a perfectionist. Part of his talent, I guess. He's one of the most sought-after surgeons in New York. You can't blame him for wanting to be better and pushing others to do the same. Look at you and Purity. You've dedicated everything you have to making the Manhattan site a success. You even learned golf."

  "Thanks to Nate." He'd met Nate Dunkle on the course when he'd been desperate to learn the game in order to sign an important client. Though they didn't know each other, Nate gave him private lessons and taught him enough to play decently in record time and score the deal. He was now hooked up with Gen's friend Kennedy. "Who would've thought I'd enjoy hitting a little ball across a field to put it in a hole? I used to make fun of golfers and now I am one. And you're right, I'm a bit of a perfectionist in wanting to succeed and not accepting failure. Nothing wrong with it as long as you don't break the cardinal rule."

  "What rule?"

  He kept his attention on his plate to give her space. "Don't hurt people while you're doing it."

  "I don't think he meant to."

  "Intentions are noble, but if you still hurt someone, does that make it acceptable?"

  The waiter took their plates, refilled the water glasses, and disappeared. The tension between them tightened. If he ripped David apart, she'd defend him. The guilt was eating her up alive, so he'd play the game and maybe she'd come to the true realization on her own.

  "I'm a selfish bitch, Wolfe."

  "Why? Because you went with your gut rather than make the biggest mistake of your life?"

  "No. Because I had fun today."

  His gaze locked with hers. A mixture of emotion beat from her body, gleamed in her eyes. Anger. Sadness. Shame. Frustration. She held herself stiffly, as if afraid once she let go, she'd never be able to go back.

  She was right to feel that way. He knew too well you couldn't go back.

  "When was the last time you did have fun, sweetheart?"

  The desolation on her face broke his heart. "I don't remember. But that's not a reason to dump your fiance at the altar."

  "Probably not. Which means there's a bigger reason you haven't gotten to yet."

  The waiter slid new plates in front of them. The impressive piece of Angus beef was rare, crusted with a peppercorn brandy, and placed over fried oysters. They forgot their serious conversation for a moment.

  "This is sick," she said in awe.

  "Agreed. Just a heads-up: you'll need to roll me out of here."

  "I have no problem with that."

  "Good."

  They feasted in silence. She was the only woman, besides his family, he felt comfortable eating around. Still didn't know why. When he took dates to dinner, he was never settled enough to really dig in, as if he needed to play a certain role and it might slip if he revealed too much. Probably those years in Italy around Julietta's mother, Mama Conte. Food was an analogy for emotion and the soul, she used to cite repeatedly. Both were nourishment if received with the proper respect. A pang shot through him. It'd been months since he'd visited and he missed them. But Gen was able to manage heavy conversations in between bouts of quiet that no one else had mastered. Another bond they shared.

  "I laughed today."

  Her self-disgust made him want to comfort her, but she needed tough love. "Humor is a good way to deal with heavy stuff."

  "I wasn't dealing with anything. You're not understanding or you're playing dumb, which just pisses me off. I forgot about David. Forgot I destroyed his life, left him at the altar, and ran away from my family. I was having fun. What type of person am I?"

  He clenched his f
ork and leveled his gaze. "Normal. You did the best you could at the time to deal with the situation. Doesn't that tell you something was off? Ever stop to think you were so miserable in his presence that just getting away from him made you happy? How'd he get you so twisted up?"

  "Maybe it's me. Not him. Maybe I'm screwed up."

  "Nah, I'm the one who's really messed up. You've always been the stable one in this relationship. And as for David? I think he loved the idea of who he could make you be. Not who you are. Not the woman I see sitting across the table from me."

  Her eyes widened. "Better is good. He wanted to make me better."

  "By whose standards? His?" He leaned over and stabbed his fork in the air. "There is no better when you decide to marry someone. There's just you and all your issues and bad qualities and crap. If he wanted some princess, he should've gone to fucking Disney World. Finish your steak."

  She stared at him for a while. Wolfe waited for her famous temper, or sarcastic wit, or even a torrent of tears.

  Instead, she picked up her fork and resumed eating.

  GEN FINISHED HER MEAL, trying not to lick the plate in the process, and wondered how Wolfe was able to hone in on the real issues in record time.

  Practice, maybe. Lack of social niceties. His name fit him well. Though he was civilized and the perfect businessman, there was something quite primitive lurking beneath the suit. As if rules did not apply behind the facade.

  A shiver skated down her spine.

  Was that why he hadn't found anyone to settle down with? Because there was no one who would accept his so-called baggage? Though he proudly held his man-whore card with style, the way he spoke about his family confirmed he'd flourish in a steady, loving relationship. Kate had been begging him for a while to sign up with Kinnections, but he just laughed her off. Maybe Gen should push. He deserved happiness.

  The thought of him never belonging to her again stole her breath, but she figured it was a normal emotion. There was no way his woman would feel comfortable having him hang out with his best female friend. Women didn't like that stuff. Of course, she'd experience some natural jealousy at being replaced.

  Had Wolfe felt like that with David?

  The thought startled her. Sifting back through the last year, she realized how slowly the most important people in her life had begun to fade away. When she'd try to visit her sisters, David would calmly suggest they do something as a couple and spend time alone. She tried many times to hit Mugs after her shift, but suddenly he'd call her to cover another shift, or suggest nicely that she'd been a bit slow on rounds and probably needed extra sleep. Lately, the only outings she went on revolved around him and the hospital, until a slight distance began to grow around her and the people she loved.