“He seems to genuinely think you’d be happier in a retirement home.”
“Few things about Ted are genuine.” Martha grabbed her hairbrush and passed it to Becky. “And I’m perfectly happy here, especially when you tell me about the horses. How did you make out with Slim and Dino?”
“Neither of them quit. And Dino is entering Echo in a race on Friday.”
“Friday?” Martha frowned. “But that can’t be a stakes race. They’re always on the weekend.”
Becky’s fingers tightened around the brush. “Dino says she needs the race, and it will put her back on schedule. I thought it sounded fine.”
“I suppose it’s okay. Malcolm preferred his good horses run in top races, but he always followed his trainer’s advice. That’s why he only hired the best.”
“And Dino’s the best?” Becky brushed Martha’s thin hair, trying to keep her voice casual, didn’t want Martha to know the mere mention of Dino’s name made her insides turn buttery.
“He’s one of the best in Texas,” Martha said. “Had his own racing stable before working for a famous trainer in New York. They won the Derby with Strike A Pose—remember when Malcolm and I went to Louisville? Dino moved back last summer. Malcolm said Dino’s ex-wife ended up with his ranch, and he wants it back.” She shook her head. “Apparently it was a nasty divorce, but I still think he’s a doll.”
Becky made a sound deep in her throat. She didn’t consider Dino a doll, more as a big hunk of a cowboy—a heartbreaking hunk.
“And no sense pretending you don’t agree.” Martha twisted, studying Becky’s face in the mirror. “I’ve seen the way you look at him. Just remember, he’s fine for starters but definitely not husband material.”
“I’m eager to see the main course, if he’s only a starter,” Becky managed.
Martha’s bracelets jangled as she patted Becky’s hand. “You know what I mean. It’s fine to use Dino for a little fun, but he’s a cowboy. No, we want someone different for you, a businessman like Malcolm. But first we have to pull you out of that shell. Help you forget the bad things that make you want to hide.”
Becky tried to laugh it off, but Martha squeezed her hand with such understanding her throat thickened. The clock ticked loudly in the abrupt silence.
“Nothing bad happened,” she finally managed. “And I’m not hiding. At least, not any more. You’ve helped me so much.” An irritating itch bothered the back of her eyes, and she couldn’t stop blinking. Impulsively she leaned forward and kissed Martha’s lined cheek. “Gosh, I love you.”
“And I love you,” Martha said, “but don’t cry. I detest crying.”
Becky swiped the corners of her eyes. “I’m not crying.” But her throat felt tight and her eyes were all prickly and even though she hadn’t cried since she was eight, it seemed today she was perilously close. “Look.” She grabbed the Racing Form Dino had sent. “There’s a good picture of Malcolm here, along with a summary of his breed-to-race program. Dino thought you’d like it.”
“What a thoughtful man.” Martha grabbed the Form, slipped on her glasses and studied the page. “Malcolm looks handsome. He would have been thrilled with this coverage. I’ll bring it along for our dinner with Ted.”
Martha looked so vitalized by the article, it was ludicrous to think she wanted to sell. “Did you hire any surveyors lately?” Becky asked impulsively. “There’s a white van doing work on the estate. It drove past the barn today.”
Martha didn’t look up, still absorbed in the article. “Maybe someone was lost.” She jabbed at the page with her finger. “It says here Malcolm had a discerning eye when it came to conformation and was very stringent with bloodlines.”
“Yes,” Becky said. “I was in Malcolm’s office looking for Lyric’s file and saw he rejected a nice mare because of a habitual stumble. I didn’t even know that kind of problem could be passed on.”
Martha’s face clouded. “He worried so much about the riders. That tragedy with Slim’s daughter was devastating. I remember the race. One minute Lyric and Jill were in front, the next on the ground.”
“Did someone else cause the wreck? Or did Lyric just stumble?”
Martha rubbed her forehead. “I can’t remember. There was a video—Malcolm watched it over and over—although I’ve never wanted to see the replay. Maybe you should though, since you’re riding Lyric now.” A smile softened her face. “It might make you think twice before galloping off and trying to catch Dino.”
“Actually we’ve already raced and I beat him.”
“He must not have been trying. Dino is a heck of rider.” Martha’s voice turned sly. “So he rode with you again?”
“He won’t let Lyric and me out of the paddock unless someone is with us.” Becky brushed the sparse hair near Martha’s forehead. She’d believed she’d won fairly, but maybe he had been holding Hank back. How embarrassing. The realization that he hadn’t even been trying left her deflated—and eager for a rematch.
Her strokes turned vigorous as she imagined her next race against Dino. But first she needed to improve. Needed to gather tips from someone who knew racing. Someone she trusted. Someone who loved to give advice. “Can you tell me the best way to make a horse run faster?” she asked.
“Trainers have been trying to figure that out for years.” Martha winced and reached up, softening Becky’s brush hand. “But I certainly have some suggestions.”
Chapter Sixteen
Martha presided over the elegant dinner with gracious assurance. The last time Becky had eaten in the formal dining room, Ted sat at the head and she and Dino had been subjected to his unrelenting boorishness. It wasn’t like that tonight. With Martha in fine spirits, Ted was relatively subdued, the conversation almost dull. It would have been nice to have had a fourth dinner guest, one who would have been happy to talk horses—Dino, for example.
She sneaked another peek at her watch, trying to imagine what he was doing now. Probably eating with whomever he’d invited out in her place, although perhaps they’d ordered a pizza and stayed in, and were actually doing…well, whatever he chose to do.
“You look a bit flushed, dear,” Martha said. “Are you feeling well?”
“Fine.” Becky pushed thoughts of Dino from her head. “This shrimp is delicious.”
“Actually it’s rather tough.” Ted looked down his nose at the plate, the lines around his mouth furrowing in disapproval. “I’ll tell Jocelyn to have a word with the cook. Do you work in the kitchen as well, Becky?”
Becky focused on his narrow forehead. She still had trouble looking into his pale eyes, but Martha’s forehead trick was effective. He’d made a few disparaging comments earlier, seeming determined to remind Martha that Becky was staff, but it was surprisingly easy to keep him in check simply by following Martha’s suggestion.
“No, I’m just a nurse,” she said, focusing on the wrinkle below his receding hairline.
“Actually Becky’s much more than a nurse,” Martha said. “She also oversees the horses for me, and it’s been delightful hearing about them from a fresh angle. I’m more optimistic about the race season now than I was two weeks ago.”
Ted’s displeasure blasted in waves, but Becky kept her gaze riveted on his forehead. Three wrinkles now above eyebrows that deepened when he frowned, and at this moment they resembled crevices.
“So you have experience with horses?” His voice chilled. “I assume your family was in the business?”
“No. My parents turned me over to the State when I was eight,” she said. “We didn’t have horses.” Or a dog or cat or even a hamster, but Ted’s expression showed he got the picture.
“Becky was raised in foster homes,” Martha said. “Was it five homes, dear?”
“Six.” Becky didn’t want to look at Ted’s boring forehead any longer and took another sip of the lovely white wine which was every bit as tasty as the shrimp.
Martha nodded. “Yes, she made her way with perseverance and bravery. Finished her n
ursing diploma, worked in a rehab center then found her way here where she’s become like a daughter.”
Becky grabbed her napkin and covered her twitching mouth. Ted glared with open hostility, and she knew if she looked at Martha she wouldn’t be able to control her giggle. He never caught on when Martha was playing him. Had spent so little time with his aunt, he wasn’t aware of her iron will and somewhat perverse sense of humor. Martha had been manipulative all night, even pulling out the Daily Racing Form and pretending she just noticed the glowing praise about Malcolm’s breeding program.
“We have a family dinner every Sunday,” Martha continued in a saccharine tone. “Maybe next month, you’ll be able to join Becky and me.”
Ouch. Becky peeked across the table, almost feeling sorry for Ted. He simply was no match for Martha when she was in form.
“And maybe we’ll have Dino and Slim join us as well,” Martha added. “I understand you all got along well the last time you dined here.”
Ted’s eyebrow rose. “I’ve only met Dino Anders. Never met Slim.”
“Of course.” Martha gave a dismissive wave of her hand, but her voice lowered. “Sometimes I forget little details like that.” She glanced at Becky and for the first time that evening, looked slightly uncertain.
An hour later, Ted was gone, the wine bottle was empty and they were safely ensconced in Martha’s room.
“You were wonderful, Martha.”
Martha smirked as she settled against the pillows. “If that young man thinks he can rush me out before I’m ready, he can think again. Did you see his face? I thought he was going to have a heart attack. Better him than me,” she added darkly. “I do think his frequent visits are over. Don’t know what his hurry is but he’ll have to wait until I’m dead before he can waltz in here and take up residence. He’s as manipulative as his mother.”
“You did lay the family thing on a bit thick. Ted’s going to hate me.” Becky smiled, her fingers unusually clumsy as she lost count of the pills for the second time. Wine always had that effect.
“He doesn’t even notice you.” Martha yawned. “But I meant what I said about how I enjoy your company. Malcolm was always the horse authority, and it’s nice to be the expert for a change. You’re an excellent listener.” She fussed with her covers. “Now hurry up with my medicine and let me get some sleep. And tell that night nurse not to stare at me in the dark. She gives me the willies.”
Becky tucked the sheet around Martha’s shoulders, noting her eyelids had already lowered. Lately she’d been dozing every three or four hours, so this had been a long stretch without a nap. Becky waited until the night nurse arrived then wandered back to her bedroom, restless and too revved to sleep.
The wine left her energized, although it didn’t matter if she stayed up late. There was no need to go to the barn early tomorrow. In fact, she was going to make sure she avoided the horses until Dino and Slim finished their meeting. Although then she wouldn’t see Dino and possibly catch a glimpse of whatever woman had stayed the night.
Then again, maybe he didn’t invite his ladies overnight if he had early-morning meetings. Or maybe they brought their own car and drove themselves home. Or maybe he was actually alone. Her mind flipped through the various scenarios until curiosity propelled her to the closet.
She rifled over hangers until she found a pair of dark pants. Tugged them on, struggling to keep her balance as she hopped on one leg. Perhaps she was a tiny bit tipsy. It was hard to remember how many glasses she’d had; she’d been too entertained by Martha.
She giggled, remembering how Martha had so effectively put Ted in his place. It was unlikely the man would be dropping by anytime soon. He’d pretended interest when Martha said Echo was running Friday—even asked some questions—but it was apparent what he really wanted was for the horses to be sold.
Well, look at that.
She paused, staring at her reflection in the mirror—black sweatshirt and pants, like a mysterious Ninja ready for night maneuvers. It’d be possible to go anywhere unseen, dressed like this. She wasn’t curious about Dino and his unknown date, not at all, but she had promised Lyric some treats after today’s ride. And since she was dressed in black, she could easily wander around without disturbing a soul.
Some lush clover grew very close to Dino’s guesthouse, clover Lyric would love. Yes, indeed, she really should take Lyric some of that lush clover.
She scooped up a black scarf and slipped out of the house and into the car. Grinning, she pointed the Mercedes in the direction of the barn. The car was quiet, a perfect spy car; she could barely hear its purring engine. On impulse, she switched off the headlights. What fun, the most she’d had in a long time, the same heady feeling she’d experienced when sneaking out at camp.
She knew where to park so no one could see and eased up to the back door of the barn. It was a longer walk to the guesthouse, but she could cut down the aisle and give some carrots to Lyric. And to Echo as well, although she certainly wasn’t going to hold them. Slow eaters like Echo were a bit irritating when you had other things on your mind.
She opened the back door, feeling her way through the darkened corner, to the muted aisle lights around the corner. It seemed ages since her first night visit when Slim had been working with Hunter. Thanks to Martha, she’d learned so much.
A few horses poked hopeful heads over the doors, and she hid the carrots beneath the waistband of her pants, feeling guilty she hadn’t brought enough for all.
“No treats, see?” She waved her empty hands.
Lyric wasn’t fooled and nickered impatiently. Becky opened the stall door and slipped in, pulling out three carrots and enjoying the mare’s eagerness as she gobbled them up. Nothing was ever slow about this horse.
Lyric nuzzled at her chest, wanting more, but Becky gently pushed her head away. “That’s all, sweetie. I only have four, and we should save at least one for your buddy.”
She fastened the stall door and stepped in with Echo. Pulled out the carrot and held it in her hand, resigned to at least a three-minute wait. The filly opened her mouth, grabbed it, and the carrot vanished.
Crunch, crunch.
Becky blinked. This made no sense. But the carrot was really gone and Echo sniffed for more. Tonight, the filly was an even faster eater than Lyric. But the last time she’d been offered one, she’d been tentative, nibbling like she’d never seen a carrot.
Nibbling like Chippy after his race.
She rubbed her forehead, struggling to separate the two horses. She’d fed Echo in the stall the night before the race but not Chippy who had been on the hot walker. And Chippy had been calling from the dark, like a horse who hated to be alone. Calling like Echo.
She braced against the wall, staggered by suspicions. Slim knew she couldn’t tell the two chestnuts apart. Maybe it had been Echo on the hot walker and Chippy in Echo’s stall. Forced exercise would explain the filly’s exhaustion on race day.
She shook her head, struggling to remember, but the details remained hazy. And even if Slim had switched horses, it still didn’t make sense. He’d been the one who was adamant about Echo racing. What an asshole.
Anger swept her. She rushed from the stall and headed for Slim’s house. A few lights glowed so clearly he was awake. Squaring her shoulders, she cut through the dark, stumbling once but walking more evenly as her vision adjusted.
Gravel shifted beneath her feet, a solitary sound in the still night, reminding her that she was very much alone. Her steps dragged as she approached the guesthouse. She wasn’t doing anything wrong—shouldn’t feel so reluctant. Merely intended to ask a few questions. But she stooped and picked some clover, practicing what she would say, aware she was stalling. Slim could get very belligerent when put on the defensive.
Sucking in a resolute breath, she continued toward his house, uncertain if she should go to the front or the back. The house was the same general layout as Dino’s but lacked a porch. Light glowed from a back window, probably the ki
tchen, but the front lights were off.
She circled toward the back door. Stepped into inky blackness and painfully rammed her knee into the bumper of a car. Not a truck so obviously a visitor’s. She groaned, wondering if Slim also slept with someone on staff. Wouldn’t that be ironic; Dino, at least, was up front about it.
Obviously it wasn’t a good time to knock on Slim’s door. Not unless the visitor left soon.
Curious, she placed her palm over the hood. Still warm. The front had a distinctive Mercedes emblem. Her throat went dry. Ted drove a Mercedes.
She inched back, hugging the shadows. Her hands were clammy and she wiped them on her pants. Couldn’t be Ted. He didn’t even know Slim. If she wasn’t such a coward she could find out. Just creep up to the window and look in.
But her heart kicked and tension cramped her stomach. She glanced over her shoulder. The barn was only two hundred yards away, and Dino’s house was just beyond it. Out of sight, but not too far.
She drew in a shaky breath, edged to the side of the house and flattened against the wall. No voices. The windows must be shut. She’d have to move a little closer. No big deal.
She wanted to move but her legs refused to leave the sanctuary of the wall, and the fifteen feet between the wall and lighted window stretched like a football field. Her heart pounded and all she could do was hug the wall.
She sensed movement. A door clicked.
“It’ll be done,” Slim said.
“Make sure.”
Ted’s voice. Unmistakable. She squeezed her eyes shut, afraid her gaze might draw his attention when he walked to his car.
She kept her eyes clenched shut even as his headlights slashed the darkness, hitting the back of the house. Felt their brightness and cringed as rough wood pricked through her thin shirt. Gravel crunched. She pried her eyes open.
The car was still moving. Hadn’t stopped. She sighed with relief as the lights turned along the driveway and down the road. Her top lip tasted salty. She wanted to wipe her damp forehead but knew Slim lingered by the door. Feared he’d sense her movement.
Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) Page 85