Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3)

by Bev Pettersen

  Becky’s face flamed. He didn’t realize he was still holding her hand, but his touch made her skin tingle. “Don’t I have to sit in the owner’s box?” she asked.

  “Not if you don’t want to.” He dropped his hand, turned his attention to the cook and rattled off a slew of Spanish. Said something that made the cook laugh, then turned back to her. “You can watch from the rail with me. I only go up to the box for Martha.”

  “Okay.” Her chest warmed with relief. She wouldn’t have to listen to stiff conversation by status-conscious people; she’d be able to get close to the horses. And she’d be with Dino. Suddenly Saturday seemed a very long wait.

  “The rail it is then,” he said. “And if we win, it’s easier to walk to the winner’s circle.”

  She nodded happily, not even trying to flatten her smile. “How many of Martha’s horses are running?”

  “Two. Echo, the filly you saw galloping yesterday, is in the feature race. There’s also a cheaper allowance horse running. Not a homebred.” Someone called a greeting and he waved, then glanced back at her. “We’ll haul in the morning of the race. Echo gets worked up when she’s away, and Malcolm always wanted her to sleep at home.”

  “I can understand that,” she said. “Sleeping in a strange place would make me edgy too.”

  “Luckily some girls don’t mind.” He grinned as he passed the cashier some crumpled bills.

  There was no doubt what he meant, and she waited for a jolt of discomfort. Surprisingly it didn’t come. Her mind felt sharp too, not tangled with anxiety. Odd. Sexual innuendoes by men who looked and talked like Dino usually turned her into a mute rock.

  She placed some napkins on the tray, waiting while he talked with the cashier. He was nice to everyone. Really nice too, no cheesy smile or fake interest. He actually wanted that cashier to have a nice day.

  He carried the tray to a table. She quickly added some milk to her coffee and followed. After a childhood of bare necessities, she’d always appreciated food, and everything here smelled wonderful. Probably had been a year since she’d enjoyed a big breakfast—Martha was on such a strict diet that green tea and dark bread were standard fare.

  She sat down, taking a moment to savor her heaping plate—the fluffy eggs, crisp bacon and toast soaked in butter. White bread too, not a grain in sight.

  Dino generously laced his eggs with salsa. “Nice to see you know how to eat. I usually feel like a pig around women.”

  “I hear you are,” she said, then froze in horror, shocked by her impulsive words. She, who was never impulsive. Please, God. Maybe he didn’t hear me.

  But he stopped dumping salsa on his eggs and his eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” she mumbled, pretending absorption in the packet of strawberry jam. “Want any jam?”

  “What did you say?” he repeated.

  His voice lowered and she shot a quick look at his face. He wore his tough look now, the one that had made Ted quail, and she wanted to sink through the floor.

  “I believe you called me a pig,” he said softly. “I’d like to know what you mean.”

  Her chest tightened but oddly the wave of panic she’d expected didn’t come. He wouldn’t hurt her, and it wasn’t just because they were in a public place. She still felt comfortable with him even though she’d obviously annoyed him. But how could she admit she was bothered by Stephanie, Angie, and even the spike-haired woman at the next table who eyed him like he was an item on the menu?

  “I’m really sorry.” She took a nervous sip of coffee. “Actually what I meant was that I’m a food pig and I can’t wait to eat.” She picked up her toast, unable to meet his eyes. “Gosh, this looks good. It’s been a while since I had a real breakfast.”

  “Martha’s rich as Croesus and doesn’t feed you?”

  She nodded eagerly, glad they were on a safer topic. “I live in her house. It’s only fair I eat and drink the same food.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I doubt Martha drinks a bottle of wine every night.”

  “I only drank a lot because Ted was there,” she admitted. “He makes me nervous.”

  “But I don’t? And I’m the pig?”

  She blew out a sigh. He was a smart guy and obviously wasn’t easily distracted. “Well, there are all kinds,” she said, her mind scrambling.

  “Like what?” His hand covered hers.

  She wiggled in the chair but at least he was smiling again, as though amused by her discomfort. Unfortunately the touch of his hand sent her senses blasting into overdrive.

  “Before you eat, let’s hear it,” he added. “What kind of pig am I?”

  He’d tilted forward. She stared at his beautiful mouth but couldn’t formulate any words, and her pulse pounded so erratically beneath his thumb, he had to feel it. “A woman pig,” she squeaked.

  He stared at her for a long moment. His thumb stroked the back of her wrist and she was certain he wasn’t even aware of it. He followed her gaze, quickly released her hand and leaned back. “I like women,” he said. “Doesn’t make me a pig.” He didn’t seem annoyed or even fazed; if anything, he looked confused.

  “Guess the definition depends on numbers. Like did you sleep with more than one woman in the past month?” She smiled, surprised she was able to tease. “Maybe more than two?”

  “Eat your food,” he said, no longer meeting her eyes. And she could have sworn she’d made him blush.

  ***

  Dino strolled down the raked aisle, checking every stall, enjoying the orderly atmosphere. All the horses looked healthy, eyes and coats gleaming as they tugged at their noon hay. Good appetites meant happy horses. They’d been happy on the track too.

  Becky would only have positive things to report to Martha. She’d been surprisingly observant. Had even noticed the head-tossing gelding, something Suzy had missed. He paused and turned back to the groom who lingered in the gelding’s stall. “Suzy, vet’s coming by tomorrow,” he said. “Might be wolf teeth. Next time your horse is uncomfortable with the bit, check his mouth.”

  “Sorry, boss. I should have noticed. He was hard to bridle too.” She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and stepped up to the front of the stall. “Was that Mrs. Conrad’s granddaughter with you earlier?”

  “No, that’s Becky, her rep. She’ll be coming by the track a bit.”

  “Then the rumors are true? Conrad stable is for sale?”

  “Not yet. Not if we please Becky.”

  “Oh, we’re good then.” Suzy’s face brightened with relief. “You’re the perfect man for that job.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know.” She giggled, smoothing her T-shirt. “You’re real popular with women.”

  He scowled. First Becky. Now Suzy. Unbelievable. Since his divorce, he’d enjoyed many women, but he didn’t consider himself a hound. And he was always honest, always kept it casual and never, ever dated anyone who worked for him.

  He dragged his hand over his jaw. At least he never dated anyone like Suzy, not girls who worked directly for him. Maybe there’d been a few who worked indirectly with him. Yes, Stephanie worked for Conrad Stables, and there had been Greta and a few other nurses. But they didn’t work for him. And it had been fun for both sides. No promises, no commitment. He was careful to avoid needy or bitchy women. One disastrous marriage was quite enough.

  Suzy flashed a knowing smile, and his scowl deepened.

  “That bucket is dirty, and there’s a manure stain on your horse’s belly.” His voice flattened. “And soak his hay. You should always do that when a horse has a sore mouth.”

  She ducked her head, color climbing her neck, and he felt like he’d just scolded a puppy. But damn it, she was barely twenty. What did she know? Still, Becky had accused him of being a pig, only hours earlier, and she was plenty observant. She didn’t talk much, but he could see the wheels moving behind those intelligent brown eyes.

  She’d loosened up too and turned into a real chatterbox, at l
east around him. He’d been slightly disappointed when she left after breakfast although the prospect of her visits had originally left him resentful.

  Lyric’s night rescue must have cracked her shyness. Clearly she’d enjoyed being on the mare’s back. It was crazy she couldn’t ride regularly, especially since Martha’s manor was surrounded by horses. Actually there was no reason why she couldn’t ride Lyric. The mare was always well behaved in the paddock.

  Besides, with Echo racing in a week, he intended to spend more time at the Conrad barn. He could help Becky with the first couple of rides. Smooth her way with Slim. The man was a capable horseman but sometimes resented visitors—clearly he also felt pressure to win. It didn’t help that Ted was pushing Martha to sell. But a good race from Echo would improve everyone’s mood. Improve everyone’s finances too.

  He continued his barn check, stopping to adjust a sagging hay net and wishing Hunter had performed better. There would have been a lot less pressure if the colt had won. He was confident in his training program and accepted that horses were rarely predictable. Still, it was disconcerting that his hopes of regaining the family ranch now depended upon a flighty filly and the reports of a bashful, brown-eyed nurse.

  Chapter Eight

  “You shouldn’t have rushed back,” Martha said as Becky fluffed the pillows, propping them behind Martha’s head. “I happen to know Dino is excellent company.”

  Becky tidied the already immaculate bedside table, conscious of Martha’s probing eyes. “Yes, he’s good company but I thought you’d want to hear about your horses.”

  “Of course I do,” Martha said. “What did you think?”

  “Dino’s barn is well kept, clean and even more organized than the barn he manages here. All the horses look great. I saw five on the track today, including the two names you wrote on the list. Three wore rundown bandages. One of them has a sore mouth but they all galloped well, really well.”

  “Who has the sore mouth?”

  “The bay gelding that’s a half brother to Hunter. Dino says it’s wolf teeth and told someone called Shane to call the vet.”

  “Shane is Dino’s assistant, another nice man.” Martha reached over and squeezed Becky’s hand. “I appreciate you checking the horses, and it’s good for you to get out. You need to find a real life, especially since I won’t be around much longer.”

  Becky’s throat constricted so tightly she couldn’t speak, could only pat Martha’s hand. “You have lots more time,” she finally managed. “A little heart attack but you’re only seventy-four. You just have to be cautious. And I brought some pictures and video and on Saturday, I’m going to figure out how to place a bet for you.”

  “Video isn’t the same as being at the races.” Martha sighed in frustration. “I’m supposed to rest but it’s boring in the house. Malcolm and I used to drive around, checking the grounds before going to the track.”

  “Would you like to go for another drive around the estate?” Becky asked. “Maybe check out the pastures and the training barn? We could visit Hunter. And Lyric.”

  A smile creased Martha’s face. “You like Lyric, don’t you? Did you know Dino called half an hour ago? Suggested you be allowed to ride that mare.”

  Becky’s eyes widened. It had been a rare day of fun to leave the estate and join Dino at the track. And now he was arranging for her to ride Lyric, the most beautiful horse in the barn. She clasped her hands, trying to maintain her composure, trying to concentrate on what Martha was saying.

  “Give you a chance to ride.” Martha said. “So, do you want to ride with Dino once in a while?”

  “Ride with D-Dino?” Her voice cracked, and heat rushed to her cheeks as she stared at Martha. Not only ride beautiful Lyric but accompanied by Dino? Not by Slim. She must be hallucinating.

  “Guess you won’t have to watch me nap anymore.” Martha smiled ruefully. “I can’t think of a nicer man to go riding with. He put a smile on Greta’s face too. But do be careful, dear.”

  Becky realized she was gaping and snapped her mouth shut. She had to say something though and prayed her tone was casual enough to fool Martha. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’d never fall for anyone like Dino. I’m not his type, completely the opposite of Greta.”

  “You mumble a bit and certainly hide behind that mane of hair. But a cut and highlights would help.” Martha leaned forward, staring at Becky’s face. “Your eyebrows need shaping as well. And makeup—a lady should always wear makeup. But your bone structure is okay. And you do have lovely hands.”

  Becky smiled despite her thrust of pain. Even Martha—who liked her—thought her plain. And that was a good thing. Exactly what she wanted. It was best not to draw attention, and Lyric certainly didn’t care about her looks.

  She glanced down, ruefully waggling her fingers. At least Martha said she had good hands. For riders, those were more important than a pretty face.

  ***

  Becky stared over the lonely oval. “The track looks deserted.”

  “It is deserted,” Martha said. “Horses are trained in the morning. They’re used to a schedule. Grooms leave about eleven and return at four, but Slim is generally around.”

  “Can we take a look at Lyric?” Becky asked. “And of course Hunter and Echo too,” she added, realizing Martha was more interested in her racehorses than the retired mare.

  “I own this place,” Martha said. “We can do whatever we want. But park close to the front door or else drive around to the side entrance. I don’t want to walk far, and those clouds look like rain.”

  Becky edged the car close to the front door. She supported Martha as she inched from her seat, and they entered the barn at a sedate pace. The aisle was spotless but empty. Horses poked heads over their stall guards, studying them with hopeful interest.

  “That looks new.” Martha pointed to a shiny snap that reinforced the bolt on Lyric’s stall. “She escaped once last year and almost caused a highway accident. Malcolm said she’s a magnet for trouble. I’m glad Slim is being careful.”

  Becky averted her head. She hadn’t told Martha about the mare’s latest escapade, deciding it would only cause unnecessary worry. It was unfortunate that Lyric—the horse most likely to head to the highway—had managed to get loose, but tragedy had been averted.

  Lyric nickered and Becky stepped closer, pleased the mare remembered her. “I’m going to ride you, beautiful,” she murmured. “I’ll brush you and learn how to wrap your legs, and maybe you won’t want to run away.”

  “Let’s visit another stall. Lyric nips.” Martha gestured impatiently. “Echo and Hunter are our best horses. I pray Echo runs well on Saturday.”

  Becky gave Lyric an apologetic pat then supported Martha’s elbow as they shuffled to Echo’s stall. The filly nudged Martha’s hand, clearly anticipating a treat.

  “Malcolm and I always brought peppermints.” Martha’s sad smile twisted at Becky’s chest. “We used to visit them everyday, just the two of us. Such fun.” She propped her purse on top of a hay bale and shuffled through the contents, finally extracting two pink mints which the filly deftly lifted from her hand. “Please win on Saturday, girl. Help justify this place. Ted promised he’d help look after things, but his insistence on selling is wearisome.”

  Becky’s throat tightened. Martha sounded so vulnerable; the heart attack she’d suffered following Malcolm’s death had definitely changed her psyche. Ted shouldn’t be pushing her so hard. He never would have dared if Malcolm were alive…or if Martha was her usual domineering self. Becky knew she was only a nurse, knew it was safer not to get involved, but she’d never been able to turn away from someone in need.

  “From now on,” anger thickened Becky’s voice, “I’m going to speak up when Ted is pushy. I won’t be quiet.”

  Martha gave a wan smile and continued down the aisle, seeming to be amused by Becky’s impulsive declaration. They both knew her habit was to duck confrontation.

  Hunter stuck his head out, not deigning
to look at them, but instead staring over their heads. That horse didn’t duck from anything. Despite losing on Saturday—losing badly—he clearly considered himself king of the barn.

  He didn’t smell like a king though. Becky wrinkled her nose, distracted by the odor. “He looks good, but he doesn’t smell like the other horses,” she said.

  “I don’t notice anything,” Martha said. “Probably he’s on a different type of feed.”

  Becky didn’t say anything more, just took Martha’s arm and helped her shuffle down the aisle. But she didn’t think the smell clinging to Hunter was feed related. It reeked like something bad, something rotten.

  ***

  “I’m sorry, Ted.” Becky gripped the phone, enunciating clearly into the mouthpiece. “Martha has retired for the evening. She won’t be able to see you until Sunday either, the day after the race. You’re welcome to leave any documents with Jocelyn. But as you noted, Martha needs rest. That’s why her bedroom is now off-limits to everyone but medical staff.”

  Becky moved the phone six inches from her head, enjoying Martha’s delighted smile as they both listened to Ted rant about overstepping nurses and their fragile job security.

  Once he slowed, Becky pressed the phone back to her ear, recalling Dino’s rationale. “Actually my job is to look after your aunt,” she said. “I regret you don’t approve but she pays my salary, not you. See you on Sunday.” She snapped the phone shut, blew out a big breath and sank into the closest chair.

  “Well done. Surprisingly well done.” Martha settled against the pillows with a complacent smile. “Thank you. He won’t be able to complain after Echo wins on Sunday. You were quite brave. I know that was difficult for you.”