Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3)

by Bev Pettersen

  Dino rubbed his temple then rose and yanked open the cupboards. Coffee. The man might make more sense after coffee. But based on his ramblings, Becky was right—Jill and Slim had been promised part ownership of Lyric. What a mess.

  He added water to the machine and walked across the room to grab a mug, almost tripping over a meowing cat.

  Slim raised his head, displaying a drunk’s sudden belligerence. “She’s the only horse I ever let loose. Never would have done that to any of the others.”

  Dino’s hands fisted. He stalked closer, realizing Slim was no longer talking about a long-lost pony.

  “Wanna hit me? Come on. I deserve it.” Slim waved at his face but the gesture left him unbalanced, and he knocked the table instead. He looked at Dino, seemed to absorb his disgust, and his aggression faded as quickly as it had arisen. “I ain’t proud of all this. Worked hard, made my name, going to keep that at least.”

  “Aw, fuck, Slim. You need a lawyer.” Dino paced around the kitchen, his movements jerky. He’d suspected Slim had left Lyric’s stall open, but having it confirmed shocked him. The man was a horseman, for crissakes. He shook his head in disbelief. “You hate the mare that much?”

  Slim groaned and covered his face.

  Dino flung open the cupboard. Clearly Slim was contrite, but he would have to get his head straightened before he was allowed near horses again, and Dino was too revolted to even look at him. “Got any more liquor?” He banged open the cupboards, checking every shelf, searching for a hidden stash.

  “Ain’t going to drink anymore,” Slim said. “Too late for that.”

  “When I come back tomorrow night, I want you sober. We have to find you a place to live, somewhere to work, a doctor.” Dino squeezed his eyes shut. Martha’s insistence that Slim be allowed to stay on the grounds was now even more troubling. He wanted the man gone today.

  “I’m sorry, Dino.” Slim’s hands muffled his voice. “You’re a good man. Just in the wrong place.”

  Dino poured a cup of black coffee and slammed it on the table, but Slim’s head lolled forward, his eyelids lowering.

  “I’ll talk to you after the race tomorrow,” Dino snapped. “Stay out of the barn. Away from the horses. Away from people. And sober up. You’re lucky if the police don’t get involved.” He checked one last cupboard but found no more rum, dumped some food in the dish for the yowling cat and stomped out the door.

  He stalked back to the barn, shaking his head at Slim’s ramblings about shooting Lyric. One thing was clear. Whether the mare’s faults were real or imagined, no way was anyone riding her again. If Becky was hurt, he’d never forgive himself.

  Some of his concern eased when he saw Cody camped in front of Echo’s stall, which meant Lyric, stabled in the adjoining stall, was also protected.

  “Want a little break?” he asked

  “Sure, boss.” Cody reached under his folding chair and pulled out a greasy brown bag. “I want to heat up some leftover pork for supper.”

  “Okay. Do it now. And grab anything else you want from the kitchen. I don’t want you leaving this spot again tonight.”

  “Sure.” Cody gave a good-natured grin. “Don’t know what I’m watching for though. Only people around were you and Slim.”

  “Slim? How long was he here?”

  “Only a minute,” Cody said. “He was in the office. Paid back the ten bucks he owed me. Told me I was a good groom. I know you said he doesn’t work here anymore but…”

  “The barn’s off limits. He knows that.” Dino checked Echo’s stall. The filly looked back, eyes bright and eager. “She looks fine though,” he added, his tension easing.

  “He didn’t do anything. I swear it, boss. Just wanted to pay me back my money.”

  “Okay. Heat up your supper. I’ll watch her for a bit.”

  “Sure thing.” Cody walked down the aisle, shaking his head as Lyric stretched over her door, threatening to bite. “That mare is damn saucy,” he called over his shoulder.

  “She doesn’t like many people,” Dino said. Only Becky. Lyric had liked her from the first day. Maybe the mare had sensed her depth. But what person would have guessed such an appealing woman hid behind that prickly surface? He rubbed his jaw, trying to remember when they’d first met.

  He hoped she hadn’t been around when he’d been sleeping with Greta. He wasn’t sure why that made him uneasy but he felt vaguely stupid, like when he overlooked a promising filly in the sale ring. Not that any rival trainer was about to waltz in and scoop up Becky. She didn’t get off the property much, and her time was devoted to Martha. Lyric. Him.

  A smile creased his face. Not a bad setup really. He had her to himself, safely kept, and it didn’t seem like they’d tire of each other any time soon. He scratched Echo beneath her jaw and blew out a sigh, liking the fact that Becky was far removed from the casual alliances that often sullied track life. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Laura.

  The chime of his cell phone startled Echo, and he stepped back and dug in his pocket. “Yeah.”

  “Big day tomorrow?” Laura’s saccharine-sweet voice filled the phone.

  “Well, speak of the devil. I was just thinking of you. How soon can you and lover boy move out?”

  Her voice rose. “If you had stayed home a little, it wouldn’t have happened.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “I just wanted to make you jealous.” She stopped. “What did you say?”

  “Sorry I couldn’t make you happy. How soon can you move out?”

  She was silent for a moment. “Two weeks after I have my money,” she said. “And this is the absolute last extension. I’m sick of living in the boonies.”

  You didn’t have to live there. But he clamped his mouth shut knowing they’d each slung enough mud. Too many times. “I’ll call after the race,” he said.

  “What is this big race tomorrow? The one you’re sure you’ll win?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, suddenly superstitious. “I’ll call you in the evening.” But he couldn’t keep the longing from his voice. “Christ, it’ll be nice to get home.”

  “Maybe not so nice. The barn roof is leaking, and the north fence blew down. Place is falling apart.”

  He chuckled but didn’t bother to reply. Finally, it seemed, her barbs no longer hurt. “Talk to you tomorrow, Laura, and…thanks.” He closed the phone.

  Cody ambled down the aisle, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand and carrying a Coke in the other. A fresh grease stain marked the center of his shirt. He dropped into the chair with a grunt. “Man, those porkers are delicious. Got a few more ribs if you want to try some. Left over from my sister’s wedding.”

  “Thanks but I’m going out for dinner.” Dino tilted his watch. Just enough time to shower and change. “I’ll check back before Becky and I leave, and again at midnight.”

  “So Becky will be with you? Is she coming by the barn?” Cody rubbed vigorously at his shirt, suddenly worried about the grease stain.

  Dino’s eyes narrowed. Cody was about Becky’s age; it made sense that the two were friends. Cody always seemed to be hanging around when she groomed Lyric too. He’d noticed them talking when he’d completed Tracey’s paperwork. The camera in the office was actually rather convenient. “You married, Cody?” he asked abruptly.

  “Not yet. Looking though.”

  “You want to get married?” Dino couldn’t keep the incredulity from his voice.

  “Sure, if I can find a nice girl. Someone who likes football and horses. Big tits wouldn’t hurt either.” He reached in his pocket, unwrapped a stick of gum and shoved it in his mouth.

  Dino didn’t think Becky liked football, but he didn’t want to take any chances either. He folded his arms and stepped forward, pasting on his gravest expression. “Did Slim tell you about the new dating rules we implemented last week?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The tie was too much. Dino tossed it over the chair then rifled through his closet, loo
king for a sports jacket. Becky probably didn’t own a cocktail dress, and he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. Quite possibly she’d show up in jeans, although lately her clothes had changed. Tighter, colorful, sexy. Maybe she’d wear those tight black jeans and white shirt that dipped really low.

  His hand stilled over a hanger. Sometimes he wished she’d return to her baggy clothes. It had always meant trouble when Laura dressed up. Not that he was going to open himself up to a woman again. God, no. He liked to make them happy, not turn them all sour like he’d done with his wife.

  He just wanted to give Becky a nice night. Her face had glowed when she spoke of Martha’s favorite restaurant. But maybe he’d better dress down too. Jeans, white shirt, jacket. He could leave the jacket in the truck if she wore casual clothes. The restaurant might not like it but the hell with them.

  A car purred outside and he crossed to the window. Distinctive Mercedes headlights. One driver, no passengers. Good. Becky had said Martha wasn’t planning to come, but he hadn’t been sure. While he hoped she was feeling okay, he preferred Becky to himself.

  He slipped his phone and wallet in his pocket, tossed the jacket over his shoulder and stepped outside. She waved and he waved back, unable to contain his foolish grin. She was unaffected and sweet. And if the restaurant wouldn’t let them in with jeans, they’d find another spot. Didn’t matter—

  The smile slid from his face as she stepped out.

  Oh, Christ, a princess. That’s what she was, a golden princess. The sleek dress molded to her curves, making it impossible to see where the material stopped and her skin started—somewhere on her chest, just below a magnificent pearl necklace that set off the dress to perfection. He dragged his eyes off the swell of her breasts and checked out the generous length of leg.

  Gulped. Couldn’t stop staring.

  The dress wasn’t really short, slightly above her knees, but her legs had stretched, especially with those strappy, sparkly shoes. The type of fuck-me shoes Laura had always worn when she went out—dressed, perfumed and primed to flirt with anyone in pants.

  He’d never noticed before but Becky looked an awful lot like his ex-wife.

  She paused by the fender of the car. “What’s wrong?”

  “Not a thing.” He yanked on his jacket, his movements jerky. “But I have to stop by the barn. Probably have to come back early and check on Echo. Going to be a long night.”

  Hurt blanched her face, and he closed his mouth. Didn’t want to be a jerk, but Christ, he could see it now. She looked exactly like Laura—Laura who’d wanted to dine and dance, stay up late every night—the hell with horses, racing and working. The hell with wedding vows.

  “You look nice,” he added stiffly. “Maybe we’ll have time to squeeze in a few dances after dinner.”

  “I’m not much of a dancer.”

  “Neither am I.” The tightness in his jaw loosened a notch, and he pulled open his truck door. Grimaced when he saw the horse brush, the sweaty riding helmet, the hair on the leather seat. Laura had always hated his truck. “Maybe we should take your fancy car instead.” He couldn’t quite hide the edge in his voice.

  “It’s not my car. It’s Martha’s. And hair wipes off.” She waited, seemed unfazed by the condition of his truck, merely puzzled as she waited for him to step back so she could climb in.

  “Just a sec,” he said. “I have a blanket in the back, brand new. Won it last week.”

  She smiled and suddenly looked kissable, but Laura had never liked her makeup messed, so he grabbed the blanket and folded it over the seat. “There. Hop in.” He helped her up, circled to the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. The diesel engine roared to life, overly loud in the still night—something else that had always bothered Laura. She’d hated going out in the truck, had always wanted a sleek car.

  He glanced sideways, waiting for a comment, but Becky didn’t say a word. She’s not Laura, he reminded himself. They didn’t even look that similar, not really, although when Becky was dressed up she looked high-maintenance, exactly the kind of woman he’d sworn to avoid.

  And here he was, taking her out for a formal dinner when he should be thinking of Echo—watching race video, checking weather forecasts, calculating the speed on the inside and figuring out jock instructions. And he should have reminded Shane to double bed the stall for Echo tomorrow, and they really should switch the stall-walking gelding with Chippy. Echo would be calmer if she were beside a confident horse like Chippy.

  But no, on the eve of the most important race of his career, he was driving to a restaurant forty miles away and sliding into a relationship he didn’t need or want. Making the same damn mistakes all over again, with someone who would be impossible to avoid. Someone he needed to get along with. He must be nuts.

  “I’m going to be really busy tomorrow,” he said, “and over the next few weeks.” He switched from CD to radio, hoping to catch a weather forecast. “Be moving to my place soon.” He glanced sideways, checking her reaction, but she seemed unfazed by his announcement. “Depending on when Slim moves, we’ll probably put the new manager in my guesthouse,” he added.

  “Makes sense,” she said.

  Obviously she didn’t understand what he was saying, and he snapped off the twanging radio, irritated with the singer and the song. “You could always come out to my ranch and visit once in a while, but I know you want to stay close to Martha.”

  “Yes, it would be inconvenient.”

  Inconvenient. His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. “It’s not that far,” he said perversely. “A couple hundred miles.”

  “You’re pretty sure you’ll get your ranch back?”

  “The way Echo looked this morning, she’ll win if I can just get her to the starting gate.” And he’d be pocketing his bonus four days later. Malcolm had set up an excellent accounting system, and Conrad employees were always promptly paid.

  “I really hope you get it,” her voice softened with concern, “but racing is so unpredictable.”

  He impulsively reached over and squeezed her hand. “She’ll win. Trainers know these things.” Plus, it helped that the filly’s speed figures were the highest, that she had a veteran jockey, an excellent post position and was training like a tiger. Lately she’d been super aggressive. Almost pulled Tracey’s arms off this morning. Even the track handicapper had her tagged at even money.

  But it had been a long time since someone had genuinely cared on his account; he liked the feeling. He also liked the feel of her hand in his, so soft and trusting. Reminded him of Laura when they first met, when she’d seemed so sweetly interested in racing, so supportive of his job.

  Women often pretended.

  He released her hand and punched another station on the radio. Different song, same irritation. Christ, he hoped Becky didn’t want to stay out late. It was probably just the big race tomorrow, but he was feeling itchy and the prospect of driving forty minutes to sit in a snotty restaurant suddenly had no appeal.

  He glanced sideways as they whipped past the brightly illuminated barn. “Damn!” He jerked the truck to a stop.

  “What’s wrong?” She twisted in her seat.

  “Should only be the night lights on. Echo needs her sleep.” He clicked open his door. “I’ll be right back. Cody doesn’t know the routine like Slim.”

  He stepped from the truck and walked down the aisle, automatically checking each horse. Echo’s eyes were wide and welcoming, but the watchman’s chair by her stall was conspicuously vacant—empty except for a greasy bag and a crinkled Playboy magazine.

  “Goddammit, Cody!” he hollered.

  A muffled noise leaked from the back, and he stalked down the aisle and around the corner. Paused in front of the washroom.

  “In here, boss.” Cody’s voice was weak and plaintive.

  The door was slightly ajar. Cody was down on his knees, hands splayed around the bowl, head jammed over the toilet. “Got the flu or something,” he said, leaning forward and
puking.

  Dino averted his head and backed up several steps. “When did it start?”

  “About an hour ago,” Cody managed between groans. “Feels like a knife slicing my gut.”

  “Maybe it’s those ribs. How old were they?”

  “Three, four days,” Cody said. “Never eating meat again. I want to die.”

  Dino blew out a sigh. “Guess we should go to the hospital.”

  “No, I’ll be okay.” Cody leaned further over the bowl, his voice muffled. “Just give me this fucking toilet.”

  “Oh, Cody.” Becky’s soft voice swept them. “I’ll get you some water.”

  Cody glanced up, his eyes wet. “You’re an angel. Look like one too,” he added before twisting and tightening his grip around the bowl.

  Dino squeezed the bridge of his nose as Becky and her beautiful dress disappeared into the kitchen. She didn’t look annoyed, didn’t seem worried a piece of hay might stick to her clothes. Laura would never enter a barn when she was gussied up, had always been pissed when plans were disrupted by horses.

  Becky reappeared, carrying a bottle of water and a blanket. Crouched over Cody and checked his vitals. Rose and whispered to Dino, “Looks like food poisoning. If it gets any worse, we better take him to the hospital.”

  Dino dragged a hand over his jaw. “The problem is—” He stared at the door to the aisle, not wanting to see her annoyance when he cancelled dinner. “I can’t leave Echo alone, not before the big race. Not while Slim is around.”

  “Of course you can’t.”

  She sounded so matter of fact, he jerked around, searching for signs of sarcasm, but she brushed past, intent on looking after Cody. Didn’t seem annoyed, frustrated or even disappointed that their night was a bust. She wrapped a blanket around Cody’s shivering shoulders and twisted the cap off a water bottle. Something she said made Cody laugh. A weak chuckle, but nevertheless the kid now seemed to think he might live.