“Maybe it’s because I’m pregnant.” Ashley’s voice turned plaintive. “Men don’t look at me the same way, even though my boobs are much bigger. I can’t wait until I get rid of this baby.”
“Rid of the baby?” Eve jerked back, her smile disappearing. “What do you mean? I thought you were keeping it.”
Ashley shrugged. “I don’t know. Lately I’ve been considering putting it up for adoption. But then I hung out with the women at the sandpit today, and the children were playing, and it was kind of fun. And I could even imagine being a mother. I’m just not sure if I want it fulltime, you know, because I really want to be a famous jockey.”
Eve rubbed her forehead. The only thing Ashley didn’t waffle on was her commitment to becoming a top jockey. But at least she was getting to know the other workers now, instead of throwing out slurs and accusations. And it helped for the young mothers to get together, to have some support and learn all their options.
“I learned a few more Spanish words,” Ashley went on. “And Juanita showed me how to change a diaper. It stinks and it’s way worse than mucking stalls.” She gave a mock shudder. “But at least I can do it. And that second sand pit was a good idea. If all big trainers were like you, life would be a lot easier.”
“I’m not exactly a big trainer,” Eve said.
“But Tizzy is running on Saturday and Miguel is going to give him a special massage. The purse is twenty-five thousand with a bonus for California breds. And we know he’ll win after a massage. Miguel thinks so too.”
Eve smiled but worry wormed through her chest. Ashley and Miguel were already counting on the bonus Jackson had promised. This was a small track but the race had some very tough competition. And Tizzy was in a slump. Vets had never found any physical ailments. But he hadn’t won a race in six months. Not even close. In fact, his best finish was an uninspiring fourth. And it was never wise to rely on one horse.
“We’ll have to let Miguel rest up,” Eve said. “It takes a lot of energy working on that big horse. And his hands are already stiff.”
“Sure.” Ashley nodded, so vigorously strands of hair spilled from her jaunty ponytail. “I’ll do the stalls the rest of the week. That will save Miguel for the important jobs. The stuff that makes horses win. Besides, Rick helps with the barn work.”
Eve picked up a halter, then re-hung it in the exact same position, her gaze shooting down the aisle to the men outside. Ashley and Miguel were polar opposites, so it was great they were getting along and working toward the same goal. And since Rick’s arrival, their entire situation seemed much improved. He was so helpful, so optimistic, so utterly grounded. He lifted everyone’s spirits. And she couldn’t keep her eyes off him.
“Bet he wins that caps tournament,” Ashley said, following Eve’s gaze. “Seems like he’s good at everything.”
Good at everything. Eve jammed her hands in her pockets, trying to straighten her increasingly wayward thoughts. She’d always been disciplined, not letting anyone but Joey sneak into her head. And this was not a good time to start drooling over a man. “He plans to practice tonight,” she said, keeping her voice businesslike. “And win some bridles for the barn.”
Ashley didn’t answer, not even to make a suggestive comment. She stared toward the entrance, watching as Rick led Stinger down the aisle. The horse had clearly accepted Rick’s leadership. His neck was low and relaxed, and he didn’t push or try to bite.
“The scenery is sure a lot better now.” Ashley blew out an appreciative sigh. “They say you should watch how a man treats his horse. Because that’s the way he’ll treat his woman.” Her voice lowered. “You should totally go for him.”
Rick glanced sideways, sending heat flooding to Eve’s cheeks, even though there was no way he’d heard. Ashley hadn’t spoken very loudly.
But his gaze locked with Eve’s, his eyes twinkling. He kept one hand on the lead line. Then he reached out and, very deliberately and very gently, stroked Stinger’s neck.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“The bottle has to be between your knees,” Rick said, placing a cap upside down on his beer bottle. “And we have to sit so our feet touch. Tell me if my arm extends too far. I need to release the cap on my side. No leaning allowed.”
Eve sighed and moved her bottle the requisite inch, adjusting it to halfway between her knees.
They sat crosswise in the aisle, with every horse in the barn watching. She’d played caps before, but never so seriously. And she certainly hadn’t realized there were so many rules.
“We used glasses when I played,” she said. “Knocking the cap off the bottle looks harder.”
“Yes.” Rick gave a mischievous wink. “But we’re in the big leagues now.” He pulled back his wrist, took careful aim and shot. The cap arced through the air, hitting the top of her bottle and sending her cap spinning.
“Great shot.” She leaned over and retrieved the cap. “Now what?”
“Now you drink,” he said. “And I get a point.”
She contentedly took a sip of cold beer. There were obvious benefits to giving up her jockey career. Even though her weight hadn’t changed much, she didn’t have to step on the scales and analyze every ounce. It made life simpler. “How much do you drink in the tournament?” she asked. “One sip?”
“One bottle.”
“What?” Her jaw dropped. “That could end up being a lot of beer.”
“Yes,” he said, way too happily.
She frowned and scooped up another cap. It would be great if he won the gift certificate, but this tournament didn’t sound like a walkover. At least he’d have a good time. He certainly deserved some fun. There wasn’t a thing he couldn’t do. Even Miguel was impressed.
‘He’s a good hand,’ the old man had whispered, nodding his head in approval.
“So Woody won this tournament before?” she asked, aiming her cap. “What happened to his last partner?”
“Moved back to Mexico. He and Woody won the last two years.”
She shot at Rick’s bottle, missing the target by at least six inches. “So you’re helping him defend a title,” she said. “Heavy responsibility. Think you can do it?”
“I like to win. Do what I’m supposed to do.” He paused and even though he was smiling, the shadows in the barn made his face look oddly grim. “Whatever it takes,” he added.
And then she understood. This tournament wasn’t really about winning a bridle. It was just a quick way to infiltrate a tightly knit society. Talking, drinking and camaraderie. He already knew more backstretch workers than she and Ashley combined. And after Thursday night, he’d probably be able to track down the bridles and provide the thieves’ names to Scott. Job complete.
She pinched her beer cap against her palm. She’d had such a good time this afternoon. Couldn’t remember enjoying a man’s company so much. Other than Joey, she’d never let anyone lure her away from the horses. But it was important to remember that Rick’s thoughtful attention wasn’t personal. He was on the job. And naturally he was good. Scott only hired the best.
“Does Scott make all his investigators do this?” she asked. “Go shopping, drink beer?” She smiled, hoping Rick would reassure her that this wasn’t just work. But he didn’t speak. “Do you ever do anything just for fun?” she added.
“Scott assigns our jobs. We choose how we want to do them. But results are the only thing that matters.”
Her smile froze and she struggled to hide her hurt. Yes, he was here on a job, but he’d been so charming and she’d been falling so fast, and she’d thought he liked her a little bit too. Heck, he’d even bought a second helmet. Acted like it was so important. No doubt, he’d be laughing about this later with Scott.
She didn’t mean to shoot her cap at his head, but her aim was off, probably because she was blinking so much. It didn’t matter though. His quick hand reached up and snapped the cap in midair.
“I’m tired,” she said, rising and brushing some hay off her jeans. “But you should keep practi
cing… Scott expects results. Just be sure to hide any leftover beer. Miguel’s an alcoholic.”
She didn’t realize Rick had even moved until his hand wrapped around her hip. “What’s wrong?” he asked, turning her around.
Her pride called for a shrug and a smile, but she’d never been anything but forthright. And his eyes were so concerned and he still was a nice guy, even if he was entertaining her on someone else’s dollar.
“I was having too much fun,” she admitted. “I keep forgetting Scott’s paying you to do a job.”
“If I was really doing my job,” he said, “I’d be over in the cafeteria right now. Having a beer and talking with the guys. Instead of doing this.”
He traced her lower lip with his thumb, his eyes locked on her face. “Which, for the record, is what I wanted to do ever since I saw you riding in the dark. Before I could even see how beautiful you are. In every way. ”
His hand splayed around her hip while his thumb stroked her lip, and sensations shot through her body. His touch was so gentle, so knowing. Little wonder the animals loved him. She tilted her head, anticipating his kiss.
But he didn’t move. Didn’t touch her anywhere else. He just caressed her lip, staring down at her mouth as if it were the focal point of his existence. As if nothing else mattered, not the horses, or his job…and certainly not the caps lying at their feet.
His thumb was soft but rough, with a callus on the pad, and somehow his slow touch made her lips feel bigger, pouty and it turned utterly, crazily erotic. She trembled, her mouth parting. And finally when every quivering nerve seemed hot wired to her mouth, his head lowered.
His mouth was hard and hungry, and fit hers perfectly. She clutched at his shoulders, losing herself in the kiss. He groaned, or maybe it was her. But she didn’t care. Already their tongues were entwined, as if they knew each other and had just been waiting for their time to dance.
A languid pool of heat spread, dipping to her very core, and she pressed against that hard body. His hand had moved up her back, along her ribs, and now that clever thumb stroked the tip of her nipple, taking as much time there as he had with her lips.
She arched with impatience, and he obligingly cupped her breast, his thumb strokes matching the movement of his tongue. She quivered with wanting, and if he hadn’t been holding her up, her legs might have buckled. Nothing mattered anymore, only that big masculine body that was making her senses sing.
But outside tires crunched over gravel, the sound jerking her back to awareness. A man’s voice rumbled. Then a woman called good-bye.
Ashley. Precisely on time for night feed. Of all the evenings to be punctual. And Eve, the professional trainer, was making out in the barn aisle, on legs too buttery to move. She’d never live this down.
However, Rick swung her around, easing her into the shadows of the tack room. She clung to his arms, disoriented after his kiss. Kisses. She didn’t know how long they’d been standing in the aisle, only that it was clear he didn’t rush and she’d been the one in a hurry. And that left her stunned and more than a bit embarrassed.
Probably this was the time to make a joke, to let him know she didn’t usually lose control like that. Or maybe she should just say “wow,” let him know it was special. One of them should say something.
But he just pressed her head against his chest, his hand stroking her hair. She could feel the thudding of his heart, pounding a duet with hers. Could hear their mingled breathing. And no words were necessary.
Ashley strode into the barn, calling out a cheery greeting to the horses. Hay rustled and one of the horses, probably Stinger, slammed the wall with impatience. Soon she’d have to walk to the end of the aisle and grab another bale of hay.
Best to step out now. Eve squared her shoulders, checking her legs. They didn’t feel quite so boneless. Rick had given her a chance to regain her composure, but now it was time to get back to work.
A phone chirped.
“Hi, Victoria.” Ashley’s voice sounded in the aisle, a scant fifteen feet away.
Rick’s arms tightened around Eve in silent warning.
“No. We haven’t raced yet,” Ashley went on. “Entries are tomorrow… Of course the horses have been training… I’m not sure about the jockey.” Her voice turned clipped. “Shouldn’t Jackson speak to Eve about this? Well, if you’re looking after it, you’ll have to talk to Eve directly. Try her cell.”
Eve didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until it escaped in a relieved whoosh. She glanced up at Rick who gave a nod of encouragement.
She stepped out into the aisle.
“Oh, hi,” Ashley said, turning and shoving her phone back into her pocket. “I didn’t know you were here. Victoria just called. Pumping for info. She wants to know the name of Tizzy’s jockey but I didn’t tell her anything—” She stopped, tilting her head in confusion. “Why are you grinning like that?”
Eve just shook her head. She’d always trusted Ashley, ever since the horse-crazy girl had shown up three years ago, determined to become a jockey. But lately she’d been questioning her instincts, and to overhear that phone call was utterly reassuring. Clearly Ashley was staunchly on Eve’s side. Although it was sad that a race barn even had sides.
Rick stepped forward, a bale of hay tucked under his arm, and Ashley’s puzzled expression turned to a knowing smile. “Oh, I see. You’re both here. Were you practicing caps?”
“Yes.” But both Eve and Rick spoke at once, a little too emphatically.
Ashley tilted her head, studying them. The silence stretched.
“Rick has great aim,” Eve added hurriedly. “I’m sure he’ll represent Woody well. How was the guard’s cake?”
“Good. Liam gave me the leftovers so I brought it back to share.” Ashley jabbed her thumb at a foil-wrapped plate by the door. “But that pee catcher job is no longer available. And he said there’s nothing posted at the race office. So I need to do some serious thinking about what I’m going to do about… You know.”
Eve nodded. She couldn’t imagine giving up a baby. Joey was the center of her life. But it hadn’t been easy, and what was good for her might not be the best choice for Ashley. Or her unborn child.
But tonight wasn’t a good time to be discussing anything so important. Her body still sizzled from Rick’s attention, and her brain felt sluggish, alert only to his magnetic presence at the far end of the aisle.
She glanced over her shoulder. He’d already begun topping up water buckets, moving with a lazy grace, rather unusual in such a big man. His arms rippled as he uncoiled the hose. Only minutes ago, those arms had been around her. And it had been wonderful. She couldn’t hide a little shiver.
“Did I come at a bad time?” Ashley whispered.
“Of course not.” She flushed and jerked her head away. “I was just heading back to the dorms. Besides, there’s never a bad time for someone bringing cake.”
But clearly she wasn’t fooling anyone. Because Ashley snickered.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rick’s eyes jerked open. He remained motionless, absorbing the night sounds: a horse slurping water, another shuffling in the straw. Nothing abnormal. But something had jarred him awake.
He pushed the blanket back and swung his feet onto the cool floor. The cot had originally been at the far end of the barn, but he’d moved it to an empty stall closer to the horses. It was the ideal place for watching the aisle, as well as the feed and tack rooms. He’d see any intruders long before they spotted him.
It was clear someone wanted Eve to fail. And at this point his money was on Jackson’s ambitious wife. It hadn’t taken him more than half a day to dig up Victoria’s background. The woman had started at Riverview Racetrack walking cheap claimers for small-time trainers, but absorbing knowledge like a sponge. She’d climbed the ranks here, then moved to Santa Anita as a hotwalker where her physical attributes had caught Jackson Zeggalaar’s eye.
Woody said she was smart and capable but unfortunately fo
r Eve, she didn’t like to share the limelight. Whether she had enough power to disrupt a stable from a hundred miles away was still the question.
Rick had added surveillance cameras to the barn entrance, as well as over the tack room, but they wouldn’t help much if someone wore a hoodie. And they certainly wouldn’t stop an intruder determined to hurt the horses. If Victoria was the source of mischief, the horses were probably safe since it was doubtful she’d deliberately harm her husband’s business. On the other hand, emotional people were unpredictable and could be dangerous.
He tugged on his boots and edged to the front of the stall. From across the aisle, Stinger stared, his ears pricked. Rick remained still, studying the horse.
Stinger nosed his empty hay net, then swung his head away and peered down the aisle. Looking for more food or had he heard something too?
Rick wasn’t sure yet what made the big horse tick, or if his reaction was significant. When he’d been working with Stinger, the horse hadn’t seemed at all sensitive to his environment. The ill-tempered gelding appeared to have only one thought in his head, and that was to pound around the track.
However, Bristol, the bay mare with the star on her forehead, had a much different personality. She acted liked the matriarch, and when he led the other horses down the aisle, they all tried to keep a respectful distance.
She was definitely on watch now. Her head was stuck over the stall door, her nostrils flaring. She didn’t look at him. Her attention was locked on the dark shadows beyond the end door.
But there wasn’t anything outside worth stealing. Eve’s car was locked, and he’d pushed his bike into an empty stall. Whoever was out there would have to come inside. When he did, Rick would nab him, and they’d finally learn the identity of her tormenter.
His breath quickened, pumped by a hunter’s adrenaline and the prospect of an aggressive chase. But along with that came a spike of regret.
He liked it here. Enjoyed the simple way of life, of working with the horses and with the caring people who obsessed over those horses. He was curious how Stinger’s raw power would convert to a race and if Tizzy would run better after Miguel’s massage. It was refreshing not living with brutal criminals and not being hit on by desperate women craving their next fix. He really liked not finding dead bodies.
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