“Becky’s here on business,” Dino said, shooting Shane a warning frown. “Conrad business.”
“And it will be my business to escort Ms. Becky to the races.” Shane tipped his cowboy hat with an exaggerated flourish, stepped forward and offered his arm.
Dino watched in amusement, remembering how she shied away from physical contact, much like a spooked horse. It had been days before he could even touch her elbow. Shane’s flirting might work on the backstretch girls but it wasn’t going to do anything for a cautious girl like Becky. She needed groundwork, a lot of trust, and certainly wasn’t ready to cuddle up to any guy. No doubt, she’d choose to stay in the office with him, and that was just fine. He didn’t mind making time. In fact, he was glad she was tagging around with him.
He leaned back in his chair, propped his boots on the desk and waited for her polite excuse. But she rose, linked an arm through Shane’s and his jaw dropped when the pair waltzed across his office floor and out the door.
Chapter Twelve
Becky propped her elbows on the rail as the gleaming horses entered the paddock for race one. This was way better than being stuck high up in an owner’s box. Here she could get close and really see the animals. It would be much easier to pick a winner.
The first horse was beautiful, a well-muscled bay with a white blaze and cocky attitude. Looked like a good bet.
But then number two pranced past, a compact chestnut chomping at the bit, clearly eager to run. He didn’t look like a horse anyone should bet against.
She flipped open her program. The race was short, only six furlongs, so maybe the second horse would be the better bet. But her interest leaped to number three when he strutted past, close enough to touch, a white-faced bay with rippling muscles and a haughty expression.
The horse had a groom on each side, and he wasn’t as nicely built as the first two but something about his eye grabbed her attention. Supreme confidence. That was it—the same look Dino had—as though he had no doubt everyone would love him. This horse wasn’t wasting any energy, unlike the chestnut. He strode past with a free-striding walk, his swishing black tail the only sign of impatience.
The crowd murmured as the number four horse jigged past, shaking his head and fighting his handler. Already a white lather coated his neck and glistened between his muscled hindquarters. Not a good sign. She grabbed her pen, preparing to draw a line through that entry, but paused when she saw his race history. Even though he was over-excited, he’d won or placed in his last five races. No way could she toss him.
“See any you like?” Shane asked.
“Every single one.” A frustrated sigh punctuated her words.
“Don’t decide anything yet. The favorites are eight and eleven, just walking in now.”
She rubbed her forehead. This was much easier when she only had to bet on Martha’s horse. Each runner here looked better than the last. It was impossible to pick only one.
“Guess it’s easiest to bet on the nicest name,” she said in dismay.
Shane chuckled. “That’s one method. But in the kitchen earlier we talked about the top four. So you already have it narrowed down on paper.”
“So you’re saying don’t look at the other horses?”
“I’m saying it’s best to focus on the four you know can win. Not the ones that catch your eye in the paddock.”
She nodded, grateful for the tip. Shane was a nice guy. His hat was almost as rakish as Dino’s, and he shared that cowboy charm. Her brain didn’t fog when he touched her though, so it was easier to think. When he grinned, his mouth looped in an endearing smile which she suspected drew a fair share of feminine attention.
She was amazed more single women didn’t come to the track. It was the perfect hangout with gorgeous horses and rugged men. What more could a girl want? And she was enjoying herself way more than on the occasions she’d been dragged to Martha’s elite skybox. Of course, the new clothes helped.
“Oh, no.” She glanced down in dismay. “I forgot to change and my clothes are still in Slim’s truck.”
Shane gave her a quick appraisal, followed by an approving wink. “I think you look just fine.”
“But Martha insisted I dress up in case we won. Guess it doesn’t matter now that Echo is scratched. I won’t have to go for a picture.” She turned, scanning the trainers in the saddling enclosure, sparked by an idea. “Maybe that’s another way to bet? Wouldn’t the trainer who expects to win be dressed the nicest?”
Shane’s chuckle drew the attention of the sun-glassed man standing on her right.
“That’s a new theory,” the stranger said. “I usually bet on speed, breeding and jockey-trainer percentages, but I go to the races a lot and have to admit I’ve never seen that trainer in a suit before.”
“That’s Old Spud.” Shane leaned forward, nodding. “You’re right. Spud doesn’t usually dress like that. I’m shocked he even owns a suit.”
Becky ran her finger down the program. The number six horse was a gray she and Shane had discounted earlier, but the fact that the trainer didn’t often dress up must mean something. She smiled at both Shane and the helpful stranger. “That’s my horse then. And I like his name, Liverpool Lou. Plus he’s gray and has that winning look.”
“Don’t know about the winning look,” Shane said. “He hasn’t won in six tries although he’s dropped in class and his breeding is top notch. I saw his dam run. Pretty good mare. She was a gray too.”
“Yeah, I remember that horse.” The man on her right shoved his mirrored sunglasses higher on his nose. “Won some black type races. I was here when she leaped the fallen horse and won from way back. Three jockeys went down that day.”
“Yeah. One of the jocks was Jill Barrett,” Shane said. “Damn shame.”
Becky glanced at the gray horse being saddled. So the gray’s mother had raced against Lyric. Had also been involved in Jill’s accident. Maybe even caused it. A chill ran down her neck and despite the warm sun, she shivered. Everything in the horse world seemed intertwined.
Shane turned from the stranger and lightly touched her shoulder. “Want to go up to Mrs. Conrad’s box or watch from the rail?”
“The rail,” she said quickly. She’d never had this much fun at the races. Everyone in this section was so nice.
The stranger with the sunglasses had been shuffled sideways by a stocky man in a striped shirt who gave an apologetic smile as he squeezed in beside her. “How’s the four horse look?” he asked. “My cousin said if the horse was calm in the paddock, he’d be a cinch to win.”
“He’s pretty lathered up,” she admitted.
The man sighed. “Thanks. That’s all I wanted to know.”
“You’re observant,” Shane said. “I don’t even remember the four horse.” They both looked across to where the saddled horses awaited their jockeys. “Let’s get our bets down and find a good spot to watch.”
The pari-mutuel line moved fast, and Becky made her bet and tucked her ticket into her back pocket. Six dollars to win on Liverpool Lou, the six horse. She’d never bet in her life, and although the minimum wager was two dollars and she was usually very prudent, six dollars on number six sounded lucky.
Shane pressed a plastic glass in her hand and gave a boyish grin. “I know your type is used to champagne but here in the cheap seats, we prefer beer.”
Her type? She’d never been slotted as the champagne type, doubted many men even bothered to slot her, and she gave Shane a grateful smile before taking a sip. The beer was cold and foamy and surprisingly good. She hadn’t had a beer since she was sixteen, when one of the other foster kids had sneaked a case into the basement.
“The beer company is giving away souvenir hats so I grabbed you one. Thought it might fit if you stuck your hair out the hole in the back—you know, like girls do. But maybe you don’t like hats? Or the color?”
He looked so uncertain she quickly took the ball cap. The caption read ‘Cold Beer, Hot Fillies’ and she jammed her ha
ir under the pink cap just like Stephanie did. “Thanks, Shane. It’s perfect.” She tilted her head, smiling and feeling unusually jaunty.
He stared for a long second. “You look real pretty,” he finally said. “Think I’ll grab us a couple more beer.”
Becky adjusted her hat, smiling as she watched him ease past a short lady with an oversized purse. A handsome cowboy had just told her she looked pretty. Yes, this was definitely a great place to hang out.
She tilted her head, letting the sun kiss her face, and resolved to bring Martha down to the rail once her health improved. Clearly, it was more fun here than perched in an owner’s box, isolated from the action. Easy to maneuver too.
The horses paraded past the grandstand and her number six horse remained cool, calm and confident. It seemed she’d picked well even though the gray’s odds were ten to one—much higher than the popular Conrad horses which were usually sent off as heavy favorites. Obviously not many bettors followed her dress-up theory.
She glanced around, searching for the gray’s trainer and his unusual suit. Jerked in surprise when she spotted Slim leaning on the rail, less than ten feet away. He had his phone clamped to his ear and didn’t notice her. “Nothing else I can do.” His voice rose. “Filly’s been scratched.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling like an eavesdropper but conversely straining to hear.
“Maybe she’s too tired,” Slim said. “Hard to judge. Didn’t expect the scratch.” His voice rose in agitation. “No way.”
Cursing, he snapped the phone shut. A teenager on her left shot a curious look at Slim but Becky kept her head averted and pretended to watch the horses warm up. Obviously he’d been talking to someone about Echo. Not Dino or Martha. He’d never talk to them in that tone.
“Big lineup,” Shane said, yanking back her attention. “Hats are all gone too.” He handed her another frothy beer. “Hey, Slim,” Shane called. “Did the vet scratch?”
Slim jerked around, staring at them for a moment. “Yeah.” His gaze flickered over Becky. “So there’s no sense hanging around here. I’m going to haul the horses home after the third race. Meet me at the shedrow then, Becky.”
“But the feature race is the seventh,” Shane said. “And the eighth race will be good too. A horse Dino once trained is the favorite. You two should stay for the afternoon. Let me buy you a beer, Slim.”
“Can’t,” Slim said. “Got horses to feed.”
“But whoever was going to feed when we planned to stay for Echo’s race can still feed,” she said impulsively. “So there’s no need to rush back.”
“That’s right.” Shane gave an enthusiastic nod.
Slim stared at Becky, ignoring Shane. “Unless Dino tells me to stay, I’m leaving after the third. So you best be ready.”
Becky flushed and took another sip of beer, wishing Slim wasn’t quite so difficult. It seemed a shame to leave after three races, although if Martha didn’t have any horses running, there was no real reason to stay.
Shane gave her a commiserating look and rolled his eyes. She dipped her face in the beer, hiding her expression. However the cold beer tickled her nose, and she could feel a giggle bubbling in her chest. And then she did laugh—partly at Shane, partly at Slim, but mainly because it was a great day at the track.
***
Dino watched Red lead a strutting Chippy into the saddling enclosure to join the horses entered in race three. Red nodded approvingly. “Chippy’s on the muscle today, boss. He dragged me over here.”
“Good.” Dino rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease his tension. A win in a claiming race wouldn’t compensate for Echo’s scratch but might help Martha’s outlook, enough to keep her stable intact a bit longer.
Still troubled, he scanned the spectators ringing the paddock, searching for Chippy’s owner—owner’s rep actually. But Becky and Shane weren’t in sight. Maybe they’d decided to watch from Martha’s box, or maybe Becky didn’t really care about watching a low-level claimer.
He turned back, greeting the valet as Red guided Chippy into his slot to be saddled. Chippy pawed when Dino placed the saddle on his back, always a good sign for this particular gelding. Chippy didn’t have much speed but never lost for lack of try.
Sometimes inexpensive animals had bigger hearts than their more regally bred counterparts. Until a horse’s first race, it was always a mystery what was inside, kind of like a woman you were just getting to know. Sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, things didn’t work out.
He sighed, trying to shake his odd melancholy. Still, events seemed to be tilting the wrong way. First there was Hunter’s shocking loss and the despicable sponging, then Echo’s scratch, and soon he’d have to admit to Laura that he still didn’t have the money. Maybe she was right, and he wasn’t good enough to make a living as a trainer.
At least Shane looked happy, the way he always looked when parading around with a new woman. He glanced past Shane in abrupt concern, searching for Becky’s familiar long hair. Was she in the clubhouse? Shane shouldn’t have deserted her. She wasn’t comfortable with Martha’s friends, and Dino wanted her to have fun, not hide behind that aloof pretense.
And if Martha hadn’t invited other guests to the box, Becky would have to sit alone, sipping wine with only a waiter for company. He stared up at the boxes, trying to spot her. Shane was still smiling as he pulled a pink-capped girl into the paddock—a spot reserved for owners and trainers. Dino fought a flare of irritation and jabbed his thumb at the sign, ‘Paddock entry restricted.’ Frowned again at Shane and the girl beside him.
Sucked in his breath, gut slammed. The woman was Becky and without the hair to hide behind, she was stunning. He shouldn’t have let her go off with Shane. Her cheeks were all rosy too, like she’d been drinking.
“Did you two get your hands on some wine?” He crossed his arms, studying her too-bright smile.
“No wine,” she said. “Just beer.”
“Aren’t you going to clean Chippy’s feet, boss?” Red called.
“Of course.” Dino dragged his gaze off Becky’s mouth. “Give me the hoof pick.”
He checked over his shoulder, watching as Shane guided Becky into the owner’s spot. Shane was acting way too familiar with an owner’s rep. As Dino’s assistant, the guy should know better. It was always bad business to fool around with owners.
Dino’s scowl deepened. Becky’s arm was still linked through Shane’s, whose own hand was conveniently in his jean pocket. So technically Dino couldn’t yell at Shane. And he certainly couldn’t yell at Becky. Still, their closeness was disturbing.
“Going to stretch Chippy’s legs, boss?” Red asked.
“Always do,” Dino said, bending back down and stretching the horse’s front legs. At least Becky looked happy. But why was she so comfortable with Shane? He was just a kid, only twenty-four. At that age, guys had a hard time thinking of anything but sex. And Becky was so innocent. Probably far too trusting.
“Shane!” He jabbed his thumb. “Look after Chippy now. And go back with him after the race.”
“Sure, boss,” Shane said, stepping forward,
Dino strode across the grass to Becky. “Everything okay?” he asked cautiously. “You having fun?”
“Sure, I even got a new hat. First present I ever got from a guy.”
“I’m sure you’ll get lots more,” he said, unable to drag his eyes off her mouth. “Come on,” he said gruffly. “Let’s go over by the rail.”
“Aren’t we going to figure out our bets? Shane told me exactas pay the most, but I only have Chippy so I need to pick a second horse.” She wrinkled her nose, looking genuinely perplexed as she studied the trainers. He’d never noticed the smattering of freckles on her nose…its cute little tilt.
“None of those people are really dressed up,” she added. “A sports jacket and jeans are a bit ambivalent, don’t you think? Like you might win but you’re not really certain.”
“What are you talking
about?”
“That’s how I pick my horses. By how the trainers are dressed.” She blushed but patted her pocket. “It’s an excellent system. I already picked the winner in the first two races, but Shane said if I could pick the top two, I could bet the exactas and make even more money.”
“Shane’s been doing a lot of talking,” Dino said but he turned back and studied the trainers. He knew most of them, and everyone looked typical except for old Ben Mason, who usually wore a stained straw hat. Today though, Ben’s felt Stetson gleamed whitely in the sun.
Dino pulled the Racing Form from his back pocket and checked Ben’s horse, Total Surprise, number one on the program. The gelding had run against Chippy three races back and finished in the money. With this group of horses, they should both be fighting for a piece of the purse. And Ben always liked a nice hat for a win picture.
“You might check out the one horse,” Dino said. “Total Surprise.”
“Definitely not.” Becky shook her head. “That trainer isn’t a bit dressed up.”
“For Ben, he is. And he wouldn’t risk getting his best hat dirty unless he had a shot at the money.”
“See!” Her face brightened. “You do know the clothes system. Think Chippy and Total Surprise will come one, two?”
She sounded like a hardcore bettor, and he smiled at her enthusiasm. “All I know is that Chippy is feeling great, and Total Surprise is the same caliber of horse. Plus, Ben is wearing a real nice hat.”
“Okay, but which horse will come first? Shane said I have to put them in the right order or I don’t win a cent.”
“Just box them. It’ll cost you a little extra, but you’ll cover your ass.” His gaze drifted down to her rounded bottom, and he jerked his head up. “Want to watch from Martha’s box?”
Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) Page 81