Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash

by Bev Pettersen

  “Don’t push it,” he said quickly. “We’ll try again after the infrared, okay?”

  She nodded, staring with those vivid blue eyes. He realized he still held her wrist, could feel the pounding of her pulse and knew she wanted to get away. Not good. If he was going to nail Wally, he needed her loyalty. Needed her trust. “I can’t have my top employee getting hurt,” he said, forcing a smile.

  She rolled her eyes. “Bet you say that to all your employees.”

  “Actually, no.” He chuckled and this time his emotion wasn’t at all forced. “Only the ones who make me dinner.”

  “Sorry. The chicken’s gone—”

  “I need you to sign some papers. And I’ll bring the food.”

  She tilted her head as though pretending she had some say in the matter, then slowly nodded. “All right. See you around six.” She plucked the lead line from his hand, patted the mare’s neck and led the horse toward the exit.

  “Make sure you stand under that infrared,” he called. “And drop by my office afterwards so we can check your range of motion. I need to know if that thing works.” He didn’t want to admit he also appreciated her company, that she was the only person who didn’t freeze in his presence.

  Maybe he should call Theresa back and invite her down for the weekend. But then he’d have to entertain her all day. Nights were okay—he could do nights. But all day? He sighed, reluctant to admit that he preferred to pound nails.

  Chapter Six

  Jenna swore, almost hitting her finger with the rusty hammer. She gave the nail one last whack then stood back and admired her new certificate.

  Two actually. She now had a Diploma in Equine Massage Therapy as well as a Certificate in Equine Sports Massage. All in one day—impressive. It probably hadn’t been necessary to add ‘Graduated With Distinction’ but it seemed reasonable that, when forging, you should go whole hog. And maybe Burke and Company had another pay hike for exceptional marks. She had to admit the certificates looked wonderful on the wall.

  At first she’d been scrambling for an excuse to avoid supper with Burke but this was perfect. She’d invite him into the kitchen where he could see her impressive qualifications, and maybe he’d overlook the fact that her employee file was empty.

  She didn’t want him to have a copy, too easy to check validity. However, Wally had said employers rarely checked resumes after a buyout. She tilted her head, debating. Maybe it would be prudent to offer help with file organization—yes, she definitely should do that.

  Once Burke left, Wally would be back in control. So far, the main change was that employees had enjoyed a pay review. Certainly new ownership hadn’t been the disaster Wally predicted. It sucked she couldn’t treat local horses at the Center anymore, but she’d already promised to be on hand at the county fair and steeplechase. And she could still volunteer on weekends.

  In contrast to Wally, Burke believed only expensive horses deserved treatment—a totally asinine concept. She’d continue to help needy animals. If owners couldn’t afford it, no problem; she’d treat them outside the Center’s hallowed halls.

  Just like Peanut.

  She grabbed the dewormer and hurried outside, ducking her head at the spattering rain, debating if she should put him in the kennel. The years had stiffened his joints, and little Peanut hadn’t wintered well. It didn’t seem to matter how much glucosamine or other fancy products Wally kicked her way. Peanut still creaked when he walked, and his once-shiny coat was dry and dull.

  She shoved her fingers in her mouth and whistled, a sharp blaring noise that rang in her ears. Peanut trotted across the road, bright-eyed and eager for his daily treat.

  “Hey, boy.” She fed him a piece of cut carrot then carefully shot a fifth of the tube of dewormer into his mouth. Enough paste left for four more treatments. The dewormer might outlive Peanut, she thought with an ache.

  It was a shame the infrared machine wouldn’t fit in her backpack. No doubt it would help. The session today had proven its effectiveness, and she was grateful Burke had made her hold the mare under the lights. She rolled her right shoulder, amazed it was still loose and pain free.

  This morning she couldn’t lift her arm high enough to reach Burke’s shoulder; yet when they’d repeated the experiment after the infrared, she’d been able to grip him with ease. Well, not quite with ease since her fingers certainly couldn’t stretch over his brawny shoulder. No doubt about it, if Burke decided to boot employees, he’d have no problem single-handedly tossing them out the door.

  Peanut gave her elbow an impatient nudge. She jerked her attention off men and muscles and back to her pony, wishing she’d led him down the path for some infrared sessions while Wally was still in charge.

  She scratched his damp neck, saw his ears prick and a moment later heard the purr of an engine.

  Aw, shit. Burke was early. And her shirt was too wet, too faded. She considered making a dash to change, but his car had already swooped over the ridge.

  He opened the door and stepped out, giving Peanut a dismissive glance before reaching in and grabbing two big brown bags. Yummy odors wafted on the breeze and her mouth watered. Garlic, onion, tomato, and suddenly it didn’t matter so much that he was intruding.

  “Italian, right?” she asked, pressing a hand over her stomach, hoping he hadn’t heard its delighted rumble.

  He nodded, his gaze drifting over her shirt. “Let’s get inside. You’re soaked.”

  She had a problem taking orders and didn’t move. However, her cheeks flamed when she glanced down and saw how wet her shirt really was. “You’re early,” she muttered. However, his eyes narrowed on her chest with open appreciation so she crossed her arms and retreated toward the trailer.

  “Hope you brought something to drink with that,” she called over her shoulder, aware she sounded churlish but needing to have the last word. “I’ve got stuff to do too, so you can’t stay long. And my company always sits on the porch.”

  “I have wine,” he said. “Dessert too.”

  “That’s the best kind of company. Guess you can come inside for a minute.” She swung around in time to catch the twitch of his lip and couldn’t help but smile back.

  His gaze swung over the trailer’s aluminum siding, its patchwork roof, and she braced for the inevitable flash of disdain. Even Wally was never quite able to hide his revulsion. Sure, he tried but no one could totally conceal it.

  “Jenna, every time I drive by this place I want to order a backhoe.”

  He wasn’t trying to hide anything and her discomfort fizzled, blowing out her mouth in a ragged laugh. She paused on the steps, no longer worried about her wet shirt or about how she didn’t want him to see her cramped kitchen.

  “It’s pretty bad, isn’t it.” The admission left her strangely light. “My mom was born here. Her dad kept foxhounds for the local hunt. Peanut is older than me.” She sighed. “It would hurt so much to leave.”

  “It’s a beautiful location.” His smile was quick and understanding. “And you’re one up on me. My father had six houses and a horse farm, and I never cared for any of them.”

  “Well, I do care about this. So please don’t call in your wrecking crew.” She glanced at the bags in his arms and held open the door. She’d give him a minute to stand in the kitchen, see her fancy certificates and then they’d go back outside. The porch really was the nicest part of the trailer anyway. No one could possibly criticize the view.

  “I’m going to change,” she added. “There’s a corkscrew in the left drawer.”

  When she returned five minutes later, he stood politely by the kitchen table. The wine bottle was open and cartons of food were spread on the table, but she had the feeling he’d absorbed every detail of the room—the crooked linoleum, the leaky tap, the water-stained ceiling.

  “Is that a picture of your sister?” he asked.

  “Yes. She’s away at college.” Jenna couldn’t hide her ring of pride but deliberately let her gaze settle on the wall where her
own certificates now hung. Unfortunately his attention remained on Jenna’s face.

  She brushed past him and reached for two plates, making sure her arm rubbed the wall close to the glistening new frames. He still didn’t look.

  “Is she coming back?” he asked.

  “Em? Of course. She loves it here. Has lots of good memories of the place.” Excellent memories. Emily didn’t seem to remember the fights, the fists, the constant fear. Plates rattled as Jenna drew a ragged breath. “Let’s eat on the porch.”

  He silently helped her carry everything out. Once settled, he passed the containers of pasta and salad, waiting as she scooped some fettuccine onto her plate.

  “Is this from Claudio’s?” she asked, taking an appreciative sniff. “They have the best food in town.”

  “That’s what I heard but I hate eating alone.” He expertly poured the wine. “So thank you for the company.”

  She rolled her eyes. “No need to pretend, Burke. We both know any number of women would be delighted to join you. But you need me to sign some papers, you probably want information on some unfortunate employees and Claudio’s is a good exchange. I get it. But let’s eat first.”

  He arched an amused eyebrow. “You’re smart, Jenna. I like you.”

  Her heart gave a little kick but she plunked herself onto the swing. He wouldn’t like her quite so much when she changed her statement about earning twenty dollars per horse. But if it saved Wally and he promised to keep better records, what could it hurt?

  Besides, she wanted Wally to remain as manager, not be fired and have some new guy parachute in. The town needed Wally. Best to tell Burke after their meal though. No doubt, he’d be furious when she retracted last night’s statement.

  And that was truly unfortunate because he was easy company. He appeared relaxed on the wide swing, crammed next to a scarred wooden table. Drops rattled the roof and fresh rain thickened the air.

  He nodded at Peanut, grazing placidly across the road. “Your little guy doesn’t mind wet weather?”

  Jenna swallowed another delicious bite of gnocchi and shook her head. She hadn’t eaten at Claudio’s since Colin had taken her. “Peanut doesn’t even notice it. He loves that green grass over there—your side of the road is always fertilized—and I’m hoping the rain will help his coat.” She sucked in a fortifying breath. “I was thinking a few sessions under the solar lights might help him too.”

  “Absolutely not.” Burke’s refusal was swift and dismissive. “That pony is not the clientele we’re targeting. And who knows what kind of communicable diseases he has, something that could infect a million dollar racehorse.”

  “No worries. His lice are gone. I treated him yesterday.” She peered sideways, searching for the flinch of disgust, but Burke only reached for the wine and topped up her glass.

  “Have you always had such a chip on your shoulder?” he asked. “Drink a little more wine. Sweeten up.”

  He obviously wasn’t going to give her pony any breaks, but it was hard to summon much annoyance when he spoke so reasonably. And he had brought some very good wine.

  The containers were still half-full when she wiped her mouth with a napkin and reluctantly conceded she was stuffed. And Burke was looking way too relaxed, long legs stretched out, glass tucked in his large hand, like he wasn’t going anywhere soon.

  Almost like a date.

  “So, what are these papers you want me to sign?” She deliberately clipped her voice, knowing she had to get things back on a business footing.

  “Just a statement saying you received a cash payment of twenty dollars per horse.”

  “And after I massaged the horses, I received another eighty dollars from Wally.” She avoided his eyes, concentrating on closing the plastic containers. “I’m not sure if I mentioned that last night.”

  “No, actually you didn’t.” He swirled the wine in his glass, holding it up and inspecting the color. “So now you’re saying you received a total of one hundred dollars per horse?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” She nodded but the food in her stomach suddenly felt like a brick. “So you see, I can’t sign your paper. I’m very sorry about this—your time, the beautiful dinner, the lovely wine—such a waste.”

  “Not a waste at all, as I do have some other questions.” He set his glass down, his expression unreadable under the darkening sky. “You can tell me the town’s opinion of Three Brooks.”

  She tilted her head. Seemed like a reasonable request. Nothing that could hurt Wally or anyone else on staff.

  “The previous owners, the Canadians, were hardly ever here,” she said slowly. “They left everything up to Wally. He always hired employees from Stillwater and also sponsored a lot of events, like the annual steeplechase. And of course, town horses were treated at a reduced rate. Wally, naturally, is very popular and some people even think he owns the place.”

  She leaned forward, stacking the leftovers in the bags Burke had brought. “Wally’s dad used to run the Center but back then it was more of a lay-up and training facility. Now it’s a combination of equine health and conditioning. It’s always been a good corporate citizen. Three Brooks has a great relationship with the town.”

  But Wally’s generosity wasn’t good for any company’s bottom line, and she gulped, fearing Burke’s next question.

  “You’re good friends with Wally?”

  She blinked in surprise, staring at Burke through the gloom. Not the financial questions she’d expected. “Really good,” she said cautiously. “Everyone likes him.”

  “Likeable, but he’s not a good manager?”

  “That’s not what I said. He’s an excellent manager.” She grabbed the bags and twisted in her chair. “Here are the leftovers. Thanks for supper.”

  He gestured at the half-empty wine bottle “The food can stay but I’m not leaving until the wine is gone.”

  “It is good wine,” she admitted, picking up the bottle, trying to read the label in the dark. “Way better than what’s brewing in the still out back.”

  And that didn’t even get a rise out of him. He stared silently across the road to where Peanut grazed contentedly, hardly distinguishable now in the darkening rain. “The receptionist smiled a little more this afternoon,” he finally said. “I assume you spoke to her. I appreciate that.”

  “They’re scared of you, Burke. They think you’re always mad at something.”

  “But not you?”

  “You’ve got a little spot on the side of your mouth. Right here.” She touched the right side of her lip. “It’s a giveaway. You actually smile quite a bit.”

  “Bullshit. You can’t see that.”

  “Sure I can.”

  “You’d be a helluva card player.”

  “I already am. We have heard of cards around here.”

  “Grab a deck and prove it.”

  She eyed him warily. Probably no harm but there’d been some hot-tempered poker games played on this porch. And way too many fights. In her experience men didn’t like to lose, even if they could afford it. She definitely didn’t want to piss him off.

  “We’re not playing for real money.” She reluctantly pushed aside the bags and gathered some red and white poker chips. Be nice to take his cash but clearly it would be corporate suicide. He was a guy who expected to win—that was abundantly clear. “How about white chips are a buck, red are five?”

  “That’ll do,” he said but there was a wolfish eagerness to his mouth and when she passed him the deck, his easy handling of the cards showed he was no amateur.

  She leaned forward, intrigued at how his lean fingers flew over the cards. Her dad had always said to watch the shuffle.

  “Poker. Texas hold ‘em,” he said. “And to make it more exciting, the winner gets the leftover food, including dessert.” He raised an eyebrow as though expecting her to protest, but she’d already checked the dessert and it wasn’t one she liked. No, she’d let him win, put him in good humor and maybe he’d forgive her for not si
gning that paper.

  Strangely enough though, he seemed to have already forgiven her.

  An hour later, they were still playing and she forgot she was trying to let him win. And that the wine was long gone. “Ah, ha! You were bluffing!” She fanned her cards on the table in triumph. “I hate to take your food like that. You’re actually a pretty good player, Burke.”

  “You’re not a bad player yourself, Jenna, but you were lucky tonight.” He touched her arm and she stiffened, fumbling with the deck. “How’s the shoulder feel?” he asked.

  “It’s fine.” She rose, grabbed the smaller bag and shoved it into his arms. “And because you’re such a good loser, you can take the dessert as a consolation prize.”

  “You must not like Tiramisu?” he said dryly. “I should be relieved. If we were playing for money, you’d be rich.”

  “You don’t seem to mind losing,” she said thoughtfully.

  “Not at all. I’d like to play again. For small stakes, of course.”

  “Of course.” It was an effort to keep from rubbing her hands in glee. He wouldn’t miss fifty dollars here and there, and he wasn’t even a poor loser. In fact, he was the most level man she’d ever met—the Internet reports painting him as a ruthless ogre were totally wrong.

  It wasn’t until his headlights swept over the dark hill that she realized the dinner had been in vain, and her new credentials still hung, unnoticed, on the kitchen wall.

  Chapter Seven

  “Good morning, Mr. Burke.”

  The receptionist’s smile was forced but it was a huge improvement on her previous mumbled greetings. Jenna clearly had influence over her co-workers and targeting the unofficial leader was always an effective labor strategy.

  Soften the leader and the rest came along easily. It kept employment disruption to a minimum. When the occasional staff members were fired—an inevitable occurrence—Burke Industries was already entrenched.