Eve shook her head. “He’s spending time with relatives this weekend. But he’ll have fun. It’ll be good for him.”
“Not good for you though.” Juanita’s eyes flashed with concern. “And you are worrying about so many horses and people. You don’t even have an exercise rider. It is too much for one person.” She turned quiet for a moment, then her face brightened.
“I work nights next week,” she said. “So you can bring Joey here. I’ll look after him in the morning while you’re training.”
Eve blinked, stunned by such a generous offer. Everyone at the track worked long hours, whether in a support service or directly with the horses. Most people grabbed naps whenever they could, and vacations were non-existent. For Juanita to give up her precious downtime was astonishing.
“It will be good,” Juanita went on. “Because of you, we have this meeting place. So he will have lots of children to play with.”
Eve leaned over the table, her heart pounding with hope. It might work. Certainly her mother would be relieved to have a well-deserved break. And Joey would have fun being outside, playing with the other children and seeing the horses. To have him here for a whole week, twenty-four seven, seemed too good to be true.
“Really?” she asked.
Juanita’s eyes twinkled. “Really,” she said.
Eve gripped the edge of the table. “I don’t have any cash now,” she said. “But I can pay you from my bonus, if either Tizzy or Stinger finish in the money. As soon as Jackson sends it, if not this month then—”
“But I would not take money from a friend.” Juanita scowled, her voice rising so sharply that the other women stared. She turned, raising her arms for attention.
“Eve’s son, Joey, will be visiting next week,” she announced. “We will help with his care, si?”
All around the table, heads nodded with enthusiasm. “Of course,” they called.
Two women who worked with Juanita in the kitchen immediately pulled out papers to compare their work schedules. And it was clear that even if Eve had to spend extra time on the track, Joey wouldn’t lack babysitters.
She placed a hand over her chest, her heart thudding. To have Joey close by, to be able to hug him every night would be an unexpected gift. She could see him in the mornings too. She’d be able to ride a horse from the track, look over at the sandpit and watch him play. In the fresh air, with other children.
The entire four years at Santa Anita, she’d only had six days off. She’d left for the track every morning before sunrise, long before he woke. Then she’d sat in traffic, trying to make it home before his afternoon nap. Most days, she had to return to the track for evening races. Weekends had been even busier.
She’d always hoped that working as a trainer, instead of a jockey, would give her more time with Joey. And now it was happening. But only because of this secluded barn and these generous women. Her gratitude welled, and she gave them a tremulous smile, overcome with emotion.
Juanita saw her watery eyes and raised her arms again. “Tomorrow we’ll finish the posters with our new pictures,” she said. “And start advertising our business. But tonight we will go to the rec center and cheer on our favorite teams.”
She switched to Spanish. “And we will toast our old countries and families who can’t be here. But be grateful for our new friends in the United States.”
“What’s she saying?” Ashley whispered.
“Just that they’re missing people and places tonight,” Eve said, her throat still thick. “But like us, they’re grateful for new friends.”
“Awesome,” Ashley said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Eve followed Juanita into a room throbbing with music and the smell of beer and peanuts. The ping pong and pool tables had been pushed back, and rows of competitors were seated in front of the karaoke stage. Most teams wore matching T-shirts with their sponsors’ names written on the front, although some appeared unsponsored. A few women wore skimpy tops, the shirts almost hidden by their official back numbers.
“How many teams are there?” Eve asked.
“Almost fifty,” Juanita said. “Half these teams have been playing together for years. The ones that made it to last year’s semi-final have a bye. So they’re in the food room. That’s a real advantage because they’re eating, instead of drinking. They can also watch the new teams and figure out their moves.”
“Caps teams have moves?”
“Of course,” Juanita said. “See the Pink Vipers, the women in the tank tops. Teams find them distracting, especially when they lean forward for a shot. They also have a trick of tapping the inside of their thigh, just when the men are about to shoot. The judges are supposed to stop that, but of course they can’t see everything. Especially after a few drinks.”
“Of course.” Eve laughed with delight. This was a bustling spot. She could see the judges sitting on the sidelines. It looked like there was one judge for every two teams. Each judge had a beer in his hand and wore a complacent grin.
A man wearing a faded ball cap updated the scores and odds on a whiteboard which also showed which teams had already been eliminated. A woman beside him appeared in charge of the bets. Eve couldn’t see Rick anywhere, but since Woody’s Tack had won it last year, maybe they hadn’t played yet.
The room erupted in cheers and the Pink Vipers scrambled to their feet and slapped a triumphant high five. The two men they’d beaten shook their heads and looked sheepish.
Both of the Vipers were toned and fit, and she recognized one of the girls from riding in the morning. It was doubtful they’d be able to keep up with the big men, but they’d certainly won this round.
“The Vipers are more successful against men,” Juanita said, “but now they’re playing another women’s team. The draw was probably rigged to get them out early. Men hate to lose, especially to women.”
Eve checked Juanita’s expression, but she didn’t seem to be joking. Clearly everyone took this tournament seriously, and like other sports there was always a question of bias.
Ashley sashayed over, flicking her hair and clearly feeling good about her appearance. She pressed a cold beer into Eve’s hands. “It’s free,” she said. “The beer companies sponsor everything. Wish I could drink too. This is the best night ever.”
Eve glanced around the crowded room. Everyone was having fun but she rather hoped Tizzy’s jockey wasn’t competing. She didn’t want Julie West drinking a lot of beer and having to sweat it out before Tizzy’s race. But judging by the size of the teams, most participants were grooms or hotwalkers. Except for the Pink Vipers, who were small enough to be exercise riders.
“Liam says the guards always drop by to watch,” Ashley went on. “They’re not allowed to enter a team though. The backstretch workers don’t like them much.”
Eve wasn’t surprised. Their first night at Riverview, Liam had held them up at the gate, examining their papers in excruciating detail and forcing their hot horses to remain on the trailer. She remembered him cruising past their barn, scowling and being singularly unhelpful. But now, thanks to his friendship with Ashley, he was much nicer. Clearly he was the type of over-zealous guard who’d worked at this property a long time and didn’t welcome newcomers.
“Ashley,” Eve said, tilting her head in sudden thought. “Did Liam know Victoria? Would he remember her friends?”
“Maybe,” Ashley said. “I already told him about our troubles. He’s not surprised. Said Victoria was power hungry.”
“I should have thought to ask him about her connections,” Eve said. “Maybe he could even track them down and ask some questions.”
“But you never wanted anything to do with the guards,” Ashley said. “And now Rick’s here. He’s already met most of the workers.”
“But this way he could leave.” Eve crossed her arms. “We wouldn’t need him anymore.”
“But he can’t go.” Ashley’s eyes filled with dismay. “He did all the stalls for me today and even fixed a pla
nk in Stinger’s stall. And he’s going to win us a bridle. Besides,” she said, shaking her head, “I thought you two were an item.”
“No,” Eve said. “So it would really be helpful if I could ask Liam some questions. Can you help me with that? Introduce me again?”
“Sure.” Ashley glanced over her shoulder. “He said he was coming about eight. I’ll let you know when he arrives.”
Eve nodded and edged away from the blaring speaker. It was hard to see the game floor, with all the spectators milling. But at least she could grab this opportunity to talk to Liam. Figure out if Victoria really could be responsible.
She just needed to figure out her questions so they wouldn’t spike Liam’s interest and start rumors that might hurt Jackson’s business.
Cheers rang out and two more teams rose, one dejected, the other jubilant. Then the next contestants paraded in. And her mind blanked as the oxygen seemed to drain from the room.
In the line of smiling men, Rick towered over everyone. But it wasn’t just his height or the imposing width of his shoulders but more the way he walked, the jauntiness of his stride. It gave the impression that anyone around him was going to have a very good time.
Or maybe it had nothing to do with how he moved. Maybe it was his sheer physicality, the way the Woody’s Tack shirt outlined each ridge. Clearly the shirt had been made for a smaller man, no doubt Camila’s boyfriend. But it was almost indecent the way it showcased the six-pack on Rick’s chest.
Of course, Woody had supplied the shirt so that wasn’t really Rick’s fault. Still, it was very distracting for the women, and there definitely should be rules against that.
She huffed in annoyance and yanked her gaze away, determined to focus on more important people. Ashley was watching the door, talking to three spellbound men while she waited for Liam. Juanita was trying to convince the oddsmaker to hang one of their makeover posters on a corner of his board. And Camila was speaking to a wiry man drinking by the bar. His head was shaved, he had a scar on his cheek, and for a moment his eyes locked with Eve’s. But he quickly looked away, his gaze settling back on Camila who stood in front of him, her hands waving as she spoke.
And then Eve couldn’t help it. Her gaze shot back to Rick.
He was staring. She didn’t know how he found her, standing at the back of a crowded corner, but his level gaze cut through the cheers and chatter, and for a moment it felt as if they were the only two in the room. Then he politely inclined his head and took his position on the floor beside Woody. She couldn’t see the opposing team but it was clearly an important match, judging by the press of people.
A sharp elbow jammed her in the ribs, and she glanced around, surprised to see Ashley. Liam stood beside her. Obviously he’d said something, but she had no idea what it was.
“That would be great, Liam,” Ashley said, shooting Eve a confused look. “And if you can remember the names of any of Victoria’s friends, that would help too.”
“I only saw Victoria when she drove in and out of the gate,” Liam said. “She mainly hung out with the trainers.”
Eve gave a quick nod, hoping to encourage him. Ashley said Liam had been in charge of security for the last five years, and that he knew everything that happened on the backstretch.
“What about when you did your patrols?” she asked.
Liam shook his head. “Victoria didn’t talk to the guards. It was like she was above us. But there was one man I remember because he wasn’t her usual type. There was talk he always had something for sale. We never caught him with anything illegal though.”
His voice was lost in the music, and she stepped closer, straining to hear through the hubbub of the room.
“… jeans were always wet at the bottom,” Liam said. “He was probably a groom or hotwalker. She seemed to like him. So the rumors probably weren’t true.”
“What rumors?” Eve edged even closer.
“That he tended to get rough with the women.” Liam sighed and rubbed the back of his thick neck. “But no one ever complained. A lot of workers are here illegally. We protect everyone as much as we can, of course, but we can’t help if they don’t report it.”
“But do you remember the man’s name?” Eve asked. “Or where he worked?”
“First name was Marcus,” Liam said. “I don’t remember his last name, but he works at one of the barns on the west end. We probably have it recorded somewhere. He had a little scar here.” Liam touched the side of his left jaw. “Where a horse reared and caught him in the face. I remember the ambulance took fifteen minutes to get there that day. But one of my guys got there in two, way before the paramedics.”
“Was it that guy over there?” she asked, snagging Liam’s arm, trying to keep him on track. “Standing by the bar. Is that Victoria’s friend?”
Liam stared across the room. “Yes,” he said, his mouth flattening with distaste. “I do believe that’s the man.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Rick leaned forward, took quick aim then shot. His cap arced through the air, hitting the top of his opponent’s bottle and sending the beer cap spinning across the floor. The man groaned and reached for another full beer.
“Great shot, partner.” Woody grinned and slapped Rick on the back. “Keep it up. Let’s not give them a chance to get back in the game.”
Rick wistfully eyed his beer. It was hot and crowded in the room, and it had been awhile since he’d had a drink. But as long as he was knocking off caps, the rules specified he was allowed to keep shooting. He only needed three more points to end this game.
No reason not to. He’d already talked to most of the players here, and it was clear the backstretch workers had nothing in common with Victoria. Apparently she’d been very aloof, only hanging out with other trainers, and not spending any time around the rec hall or kitchen.
But in this position he could see Eve. For the next match, he and Woody would be seated on the opposite side. Teams always rotated since the glare of the lights could impact the outcome, and organizers didn’t want anyone to have an unfair advantage. But he wouldn’t be able to see Eve when he was seated on the other side.
Not that she seemed to care. Supposedly she’d come to cheer him on, but she’d hardly looked at him. Didn’t seem to notice he’d barely missed a shot. And he was playing this game to win her some tack. She could at least show some gratitude.
He fingered the bottle cap, twisting it beneath his thumb, knowing he was being unfair. Her new reserve simply matched his. Totally understandable. He’d tried to act like everything was normal when they returned from the hill, but he’d seen the confusion on her face. And the hurt.
But it would hurt him even more to talk about it. The simple fact was she had a child. And he didn’t do kids. Not anymore.
“Plan to shoot anytime soon?” the man seated across from Rick asked. “Or are you trying to delay the game?” He waved his arm, signaling the ref.
“Hurry up and shoot,” Woody whispered. “We don’t want them counting the seconds between throws. Once they start that, they’ll be watching us like hawks.”
Rick sighed. There were a lot of rules to this tournament. And he just wanted it over. The room reeked of sweat and yeast and beer farts, and he’d give anything to roll back time and be back on the hill with Eve. With the fresh smell of her skin, the taste of her sweet lips…with a woman who had a kid.
He tightened his mouth and snapped off a shot. Once again his opponent’s cap ricocheted off the bottle.
The man groaned and threw up his hands. Then he and his teammate proceeded to guzzle another beer.
Rick’s gaze turned back to Eve. She was still talking to Liam Turner, head of security, a man the backstretch community preferred to avoid. Understandable, as most of the workers distrusted people in uniforms. It was rather surprising she was even giving Liam the time of day, as her opinion of law enforcement was extremely low.
The man wasn’t wearing his uniform though, and he looked younger and more
relaxed than when he was controlling the security booth. He gave Eve a smug smile, leaning even closer when she placed her hand on his arm.
What the hell? Rick jerked his head away, wishing now he was seated on the opposite side of the room.
“Your shot again,” Woody said, nudging him in the ribs. “Nice of you to give them time to drink. But don’t let up. Make this throw and we’re onto the finals.”
Rick blasted a shot so hard it knocked over the beer bottle.
“Hey,” the opposing team protested. “What’s the ruling on that? It hit the bottle, not the cap.”
The ref’s forehead wrinkled and the man took a fortifying sip of beer. “Not sure,” he said, wiping his mouth.
“It’s a good shot.” Woody’s face flushed with indignation. “The cap came off.”
The ref pulled out his phone. “I’m going to make a call,” he said. “You guys can relax a bit.”
Rick’s finger remained locked around his next bottle cap, but he concentrated on chatting with the men, determined not to look at Eve. Or scowl at Liam.
However, it wasn’t surprising the guard was plastered to her side. She always looked achingly pretty, but usually she was sitting on her horse, out of reach of other men. Tonight though, she looked different.
He stole another look. Maybe it was her hair, not stuffed under her helmet but fluffier. Dark tendrils feathered her face, outlining her cheekbones, making her look sleek and dramatic. Even from this distance, he could see the curve of her mouth, that full lower lip, the color a little pinker than usual.
He leaned forward, wishing he were closer so he could read her expression. Make sure that persistent guard wasn’t bothering her. He couldn’t blame Liam for making a move—any man would—but there was a limit. Soon she’d stiffen and edge away.
Wait, was she smiling?
“Drop by next week,” the player opposite Rick said in Spanish.
“Yeah,” his teammate added. “We play cards on Monday, pool on Tuesday.”
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