Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash

by Bev Pettersen

  Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash

  By

  Bev Pettersen

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2012 Bev Pettersen

  Digital ISBN: 978-0-9876717-7-6

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or a portion thereof, in any form. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people and horses, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art design: Hot Damn Designs

  Editors: Pat Thomas & Rhonda Helms

  http://www.bevpettersen.com

  DEDICATION

  To Barb, Becky and John, the best siblings in the world. Love you!

  Chapter One

  It wasn’t stealing. But Jenna peeked over her shoulder as she fingered a bag of horse vitamins, aware Wally didn’t want anyone to see. She slipped the precious supplements into her backpack, along with a tube of dewormer. Her little pony needed all the help he could get.

  Her phone buzzed, making her jump. She noted the Philadelphia number and eagerly flipped it open. “Hi, Em,” she said. “How are classes?”

  “Fine. Other than biology, the spring semester’s a cinch. But I need more money. When are you getting paid?”

  “Hopefully today. And I’ll transfer it right away.” Jenna rubbed her warm forehead and forced a smile, determined to match Em’s carefree spirit.

  “Thanks, sis,” Em said. “You’re the best. How’s Peanut?”

  “His hair is falling out but good vitamins help.” Jenna dropped a guilty glance on the bulging backpack. “Today he even trotted a couple steps.”

  “Good to hear.” Laughter bubbled in the background and Emily’s voice drifted. “Look. I gotta go.”

  “Wait—” But a harsh beep replaced her voice. Jenna slowly pocketed the phone. She understood college courses were demanding, but it would be nice if Em would visit some weekend.

  Wally Turner, manager of Three Brooks Equine Center, poked his balding head into the feed room. “There you are.” His gaze drifted over her pack, and his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “Keep that bag shut. And if you drop by my office on the way out, I’ll give you the rest of your overtime in cash.”

  “Great.” She blew out her relief. “I’ll be right along. I told Frances I’d sweep for her. This place needs a cleaning.” She grabbed a broom, wishing their longtime receptionist did something more than crossword puzzles.

  “No worries. It’s another week before the new people arrive.” But the lines around Wally’s mouth deepened, and it was clear he was worried. Little wonder. The Center had just experienced a messy buyout, and the incoming owners had a history of ruthlessly culling management.

  She swept every inch of the tiles, grimacing at the stubborn clumps of gum mingled with the spilled grain. Fortunately Wally planned a cleanup. However, she had bigger problems than a messy workplace. She dumped the waste into an overflowing garbage bin and detoured to pick up her pay.

  The extra money was a blessing. Wally had definitely thrown a lifeline by offering cash for massaging additional horses. She didn’t want to agonize about her sparse checking account, but Em’s living expenses seemed to be skyrocketing.

  Wally’s door was shut when she arrived, his voice droning incomprehensibly through the office wall. His closed door always meant stay out, so she dropped her loaded pack on the floor and flexed her stiff shoulder.

  Other than a hang-up about office privacy, Wally was usually lenient and it would be no problem to duck out early, send Em the money and still have time to massage Peanut. Of course, that was assuming her shoulder held up. Massage was physical work, doubly hard since she was trying to learn a more traditional technique. She’d found a new library book on equine therapy, but was stuck on page thirty-eight and so far hadn’t learned much of value. Her mom had taught her more than anything she’d ever found in a book.

  The door slammed at the far end of the aisle and a workman stalked in, dented hard hat clamped under his arm. The construction crew had been working nonstop, rushing to build a storage shed for the new owners. Occasionally they ducked into the air-conditioned Center to grab a drink from the pop machine. But this man didn’t stop for a drink.

  His stride was long and forceful. Metal-toed boots pounded the concrete then quieted on the rubber mats. Sweat-stained shirt, eyes as dark as his hair, and heading this way. She straightened, prepared to defend her spot in line.

  “Wally Turner in there?” Impatience roughened his words and he barely looked at her. A bit of a surprise. Men were usually a sucker for long legs and blond hair, and often just a smile had been enough to extricate her from a tight spot. A smile wasn’t going to work with this man though. Clearly he liked to bulldoze.

  “Yes.” She squared her shoulders. “But I’m also waiting—”

  His scowl jerked from Wally’s door to her face, cutting off her words with the force of his displeasure. The female exercise riders had been detouring past the construction site all week, smiling and flirting with the crew, but it was doubtful they’d sent many jokes this guy’s way. There was something hard about him, the same ruthless element that had emanated from her father’s cellmates.

  He dismissed her as though inconsequential, the muscles in his arm bunching as he reached for the door. However, she was accustomed to fighting for every inch and had certainly faced much tougher men.

  Lifting her chin, she squeezed between him and the door. “Sorry but you’ll have to wait your turn.”

  The scowl deepened as he loomed above her. His annoyance mixed with the smell of freshly cut lumber, something piney that was actually quite pleasant. She was tall but he was taller, and for an instant her attention was riveted to his big workman’s body. Damn, she hated when that happened. She quickly snapped her attention back to his face.

  He frowned for a long moment then something lightened. His mouth twitched, a tiny movement, almost imperceptible, but enough to crack that ruthless expression. “Of course.” He inclined his dark head and stepped back. “It wasn’t my intention to butt in.”

  Sure it was. However, his smile definitely softened her. Wow. If he ever cut loose and actually grinned, he’d be devastatingly handsome. “I won’t be too long,” she said, rubbing her sore shoulder, trying not to stare at his lips.

  “Did you hurt yourself at work?”

  He hadn’t appeared to look at her earlier and she blinked; no one had asked about her health since her mom had died. “I’m fine. Sort of a chronic thing.” She dropped her hand, hiding the discomfort. “And I won’t be long with Wally. Just need to pick something up before I go.”

  “Leaving early?” He checked his watch and his mouth flattened.

  “Yes, but Wally doesn’t mind.”

  “Nice of him.”

  His tone was definitely disapproving and she crossed her arms. “Not much sense hanging around if the work’s done.”

  “If it’s done.” He glanced pointedly down the aisle at an abandoned wheelbarrow, still brimming with manure. A blue pitchfork leaned perilously against the wooden handles.

  “That’s not my job,” she said, surprised at the defensiveness in her voice. “I’m the masseuse.”

  “A masseuse? Of course.” His dark eyes flickered over her in a thoroughly masculine assessment, nothing lecherous, just simple approval that made her pulse kick. She swallowed and realized she’d been wrong. Ver
y wrong. The gallop girls would definitely have noticed this guy.

  “We’re one of the best therapy centers in West Virginia with massage, hydrotherapy and oxygen chambers. For horses,” she added, just in case he was a bit dense. The gorgeous ones usually were. “Are you with the construction crew?”

  “No.”

  “Looking for a job then?” she asked. “Because Three Brooks is a great place to work.” She didn’t usually babble but his sparseness with words was rather unnerving. “Wally’s nice, really easygoing.”

  “Obviously.” His gaze flickered down the dirty aisle.

  Resentment tightened her mouth. Wally wasn’t the most organized manager, but he was a family friend and genuinely loved the horses. And while it was okay for her to criticize, it wasn’t acceptable for outsiders. This man reeked of disapproval.

  He seemed like a tight-ass and probably wouldn’t be good with animals either. Compassion could usually be sensed, and there was nothing coming from him but autocratic authority. She hoped Wally didn’t like him either—in fact, she might be able to help with that.

  She unzipped her pack and groped for her keys, beaming her most magnanimous smile. “Since you’re in such a hurry, you can see Wally first. I need to drop off my pack in the car anyway. But don’t wait by the door. He prefers that visitors knock once, then walk right in.”

  “Really?” His eyebrow arched and his gaze bore into hers. Clearly he wasn’t quite as gullible as she’d hoped, and the force of those laser eyes sent her into an unexpected fumble. Her hand jerked, knocking her pack sideways, scattering the secret supplements across the floor. Shit!

  She rammed the plastic bags back into her pack, annoyed her hand trembled. At least no one was around, only this construction guy, and he wouldn’t have a clue about horse wormers. She peeked up, her breath flattening at his odd stillness. It was clear he was quite capable of drawing his own conclusions.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, so quietly she wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. Which was perfect as it was probably not a good idea to give her name.

  “Could you help me with this please?” she asked, her mind scrambling. “These supplements are past the expiry date. We’re clearing out the supply room. Getting ready for a big inventory… Never mind. I have them.”

  She jammed the last bag in her pack and hoisted it up, so desperate to escape she forgot about her sore shoulder and winced at the sharp pain. An arm flashed. The weight disappeared.

  “You shouldn’t be carrying around something that heavy.” He tossed the backpack over his shoulder with careless ease.

  “It’s okay. I’m fine.” She glanced longingly at the door. “Really.”

  “Show me your car.”

  His expression was unreadable. Maybe he had swallowed her story of expired supplements. Best to humor him. Let a man help a little and their protective instincts always kicked in. She’d pick up her money tomorrow. Em would have it by Friday. Not a big deal, just a slight change in plans.

  “This is so nice of you.” She rubbed her shoulder, pretending simple gratitude as she accompanied him down the aisle. “My shoulder is rather sore.”

  “Shouldn’t fill your pack so full.”

  The feed room is usually locked, she thought, and Wally wanted her to take the supplements before the inventory. But she nodded as though he’d imparted valuable words of wisdom. “You’re absolutely right.” She beamed another grateful smile. “Lucky for me you came along.”

  He’d opened the door, pausing to let her pass, but the corner of his mouth twitched again so she quit talking and stepped outside. Despite his solemn expression, she’d almost swear he was laughing. Her father had taught her to read faces, taught her about all the little ‘tells’ in poker—a lip twitch was a dead giveaway.

  “My car’s over there.” She gestured toward the green Neon, a mere twenty feet away. Normally the rust spots weren’t so glaring, but today it was parked beside a sleek black Audi with the shiniest wheels she’d ever seen.

  “That’s the visitors’ lot,” he said. “Thought you worked here?”

  “I do, but everyone parks where they want. No big deal.” Although no one ever took her customary space, next to Wally’s, the second closest slot to the door.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the construction crew, anticipating their usual good-natured waves and catcalls. They were all oddly subdued so she inserted her key. The Neon’s tiny trunk creaked open.

  A bag of empty cans needed to be pushed aside, and it was a relief when he finally maneuvered the pack of supplements between the blue bag and her spare tire. Usually she was fairly cool with this type of thing, but today she felt jumpy. Hesitant even.

  “So that’s it? Nothing else to load up?” He paused, one big hand on the trunk, watching her with an odd expression.

  “Yes, that’s all. Thanks.” He seemed to be lingering so she reached out and slammed the trunk, hit by a rush of regret. He was rather nice in an uptight way, even gallant enough to load her car. Yet she’d deliberately fed him misinformation. And he might need a job as much as she did.

  “Actually Wally’s been a little stressed lately.” She retreated around the fender to the driver’s side. “Maybe it is best to wait until his door opens. But he’s planning a big inventory and cleanup so needs to hire some muscle. I really hope you get the job.”

  His eyes hooded as she slid behind the wheel. He didn’t seem the indecisive type, but he definitely appeared to be thinking now. “All right,” he finally said, as though settling something with himself. “Anything else I should know?”

  “No. That should do it. Although it does help if you like horses. And maybe smile a little more.” She grinned, turned her key and the engine sputtered to life. “Better hurry before someone else gets in line. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. And you can help me…load more things.”

  He smiled then, a real smile that made her hands squeeze the steering wheel, and part of her fervently hoped he would land that job.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Jenna, Jenna Murphy.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jenna.”

  The raw promise in his voice jolted her more than the Neon’s aging clutch, and the little car bucked twice as it rolled from the parking lot. Definitely a cocky guy. But oh, so cool.

  She was still smiling as she sped down the winding driveway, her heart thumping a tad faster than normal. Her gaze drifted to the rearview mirror and she blew out a sigh, inexplicably disappointed to see he’d already vanished.

  Chapter Two

  “Vitamins, glucosamine, flax. Nothing but the best for you,” Jenna said as she moved her hands over Peanut’s hindquarters, concentrating on the large gluteal muscles at the top of his rump. The pony stretched his shaggy neck, as usual loving his massage.

  A pity Thoroughbreds weren’t as tiny as Peanut. It was easier to work on a pony, less than twenty minutes for the little guy, and his massage didn’t leave her shoulder throbbing.

  She gave Peanut an affectionate pat then led him across the driveway to graze. Technically the grass on the other side belonged to Three Brooks but it hadn’t been harvested in years, and it saved on buying hay. In better times, her chief worry had been that Peanut might overeat, but now his teeth were worn and his tattered coat hung in chunks. The poor fellow used to be a good-looking pony.

  She returned to her sun-dried yard, trying not to look at the ragged shingles hanging from the trailer’s roof. Peanut was showing his age, so was her home. Last year Emily had helped her patch a portion of the roof. They should have fixed it all.

  A diesel pickup rumbled over the hill. She shot an anxious look over her shoulder, relaxing as the big vehicle slowed fifty yards out. Wally. A couple of the maintenance men for the Three Brooks mansion drove too fast, but Wally knew to watch out for wandering ponies.

  He lowered the window with a wry smile. The fading sun emphasized the deep lines bracketing his mouth. “I need a beer, Jenna.” />
  It was getting late and her shoulder ached, but Wally looked even more drained. Besides, it probably wasn’t beer he wanted but conversation. Sometimes she thought him lonelier than she was, if that were possible.

  She nodded a welcome, slipped into the kitchen and grabbed a couple cold beers. By the time she stepped outside, Wally was stretched on the porch swing. Flies buzzed over the brook but thankfully stayed off the cooler porch. They didn’t seem to bother Peanut who chewed contentedly, swishing his tail and looking like a pygmy in the tall grass.

  “Talk to Emily lately?” Wally asked, his gaze fixed on Peanut.

  “Today, just for a minute.”

  “She should get a part-time job. Her college support is wearing you down.”

  Jenna waited a beat, trying to control her annoyance. Wally was like an uncle, but he was always much too critical of Em.

  “I don’t want her worrying about money,” Jenna finally said. “Not while she’s studying. She’s barely twenty.”

  “You’re only six years older. Look at you.”

  Jenna leaned her head against the swing. Yeah, look at me. A crumbling trailer, an ancient pony and a sister who no longer needed her. She felt old, alone and rather scared. But at least one of the Murphy girls was going to college.

  Wally tilted the bottle. Glug, glug. He swiped his mouth and glanced longingly over his shoulder. “Got another beer in there?”

  So much for studying her massage book; Wally seemed really down. She rose, clicked open the screen door, grabbed another beer and filled a plate with spicy pepperoni. This was better anyway. Wally was always good company—as long as he didn’t snipe at Emily.

  “You’re a sweetheart,” Wally said, gratefully accepting the second beer along with the sliced meat. “There’s something damn special about this front porch. Looking over the valley makes me feel like a king. Your dad sure set things up right.”

  “He was a lazy asshole who spent more time in jail than out, and made Mom miserable.”