Backstretch Baby

by Bev Pettersen

  There was silence, then a heavy sigh.

  “It’s me,” Rick said. “Is it okay if I sleep here tonight?”

  She froze, her mind disconnected to her body. Rick and that woman. No way. That would hurt too much. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out, only a horrified squeak.

  “And I can’t believe you’d tell her where I was,” he added.

  He stomped down the hall, past her bedroom and into the adjoining room. Definitely disgruntled. Definitely alone.

  She sank back on the bed, limp with relief. From the room next door, boots thudded. Clothes rustled and a buckle clinked. Then she could hear nothing but his breathing. It sounded ragged, upset.

  She waited a moment, not sure. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want—”

  “If someone came looking for you like that,” he said thickly, “I’d want to hurt them. Not give directions.”

  She stared through the skylight. The night wasn’t quite so dark. She could even see a few stars, faint but twinkling. “I felt like that when I saw her,” she admitted, matching his honesty.

  “I suppose you weren’t thinking clearly. A bit groggy.” Rick sounded much less truculent now.

  “Yes, that’s right.” She smiled against her pillow, even though he couldn’t see her. “And obviously I wasn’t too keen to mess with a Pink Viper.”

  And now his laugh rumbled through the thin wall. She smiled and inched to the side of the bed. Closer to his voice. “What did you do with her?” she asked.

  “Tucked her in beside Miguel. They’ll both have a headache in the morning. She’d been celebrating.”

  “Guess it’s not every day a girl comes second in a big caps tournament,” Eve said, full of good will now. Rick’s voice sounded as if it were only inches away. He must be lying close to the wall too. In the dark she could pretend he was right beside her.

  She closed her eyes, soothed by his presence, deciding she might fall asleep after all. “Good night, Rick,” she whispered.

  “Good night, sweetheart,” he said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Eve stretched, then shoved aside the sheets. She never used an alarm, the habit of waking early was too ingrained. But it was obvious that today she’d overslept.

  The sky was already a colorless gray, the sun inching toward the horizon. And she had five horses to ride and two grooms who would be of limited help. And then there was Rick. He’d been drinking heavily. Who knew how he would feel this morning?

  She dressed quickly, listening for his breathing, but the RV felt deserted. And when she smelled the hickory coffee, it was obvious he’d risen long ago. He’d even left a box of granola bars on the counter.

  She poured a cup of coffee, stuck a bar in her back pocket, and hurried from the RV.

  A woman in a scanty pink shirt wandered from the barn, rubbing at her puffy eyes and further smearing her mascara. “What a night,” she muttered. “What time is it?”

  “Almost six,” Eve said.

  “Damn.” The woman rubbed at her spiky hair. “I have five to exercise this morning. And my head feels like shit.”

  “Here. Take this.” Eve thrust out her coffee.

  The Pink Viper grabbed it with a grateful groan. “Thanks, girl,” she said. “See you on the track.”

  She headed toward the horse path, the mug pressed to her mouth.

  Eve hurried into the barn, understanding the Viper’s dismay. Losing time in the morning meant every ride was rushed. And quite likely she’d have to do the feeding and grooming today, as well as the riding. Worse, horses like Stinger were always in a nasty mood when their breakfast was late. It wasn’t a good way to start the day.

  However, the horses barely looked at her. They tugged at their hay nets, their expressions content. She walked down the spotless aisle, checking each horse. Their stalls were clean and freshly bedded. Better still, they were groomed, with stable bandages removed and neatly rolled. Her sense of urgency faded, replaced with gratitude. She wasn’t off schedule at all. But Rick must have been up for hours, despite last night’s revelry.

  The aisle was empty. However, the rumble of men’s voices drifted from the end of the barn. She walked down the aisle toward the third stall from the end.

  Rick and Miguel sat on the cot. Miguel’s hands were shaking almost as much as his voice.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he kept muttering to Rick. His thin shoulders were hunched in misery, his trembling hands clasped.

  “We all have our setbacks,” Rick said, his voice so gentle it tugged at her heart. “Later we’ll go see the chaplain. See what programs they have. The important thing is to not give up. Take one day at a time.”

  He stared over Miguel’s head, seeming to sense her presence. “We have to keep trying.” His gaze held hers. “And not give up.”

  She saw the plea in his face. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, his hair shaggy, and his heavily stubbled jaw resembled that of an outlaw on the run. But one tattooed forearm supported Miguel while he tilted a bottle of water to the man’s mouth. And there was no doubt he was a kind man, a good man. Someone who cared.

  Besides, people could change if they wanted. And Rick could learn to like children. To like Joey.

  Her throat was impossibly tight but she gave a little nod and backed away. Miguel was in the best possible hands. And she still had a lot of horses to ride in a very short time.

  She hurried back to the whiteboard and reviewed her training notes. A jog and paddock visit for Tizzy who was racing the next day, a three furlong blowout for Stinger who was entered on Sunday, and a mile and half gallop for Bristol and the rest. They could probably start walking Banjo under tack since his back was healing so well, but staff were spread too thin to start that today.

  Ashley burst into the barn, wearing a wide smile and lugging a huge trophy. “Woody wants to display this in his store,” she said. “But I convinced him that Rick should have it for a week. Where do you want to keep it? Maybe in the tack room?”

  Eve just stared. She’d always thought she was a good judge of character, both horses and people, but she’d been terribly wrong about Ashley. Never dreamed she’d be the backstabbing snitch who was relaying their information to Victoria.

  She didn’t intend to confront Ashley yet. The horses deserved to have a level-headed rider in the saddle. But she couldn’t hold back.

  “I know it’s you,” she said, through clenched lips. “You’re the only other person who knew everything. When we were gone, details about our horses, and what would hurt the most. What did Victoria promise you? First-call jockey maybe?”

  “What are you talking about?” The smile slid from Ashley’s face, and she gave a blink of dismay. However, Eve wasn’t fooled, not any longer.

  “It was despicable to give him the liquor.” Eve’s voice shook now. “Miguel didn’t deserve that.”

  Ashley just gaped, the shiny trophy almost slipping to the floor. And now Eve shared her confusion. Ashley was always easy to read and rather childlike with her emotions. But now the girl looked—not guilty or defensive—but genuinely bewildered.

  “Someone gave Miguel a bottle of tequila last night.” Eve stepped closer, studying Ashley’s expression. “He’s in rough shape. Rick’s with him now.”

  The color leached from Ashley’s face. She set the trophy on the floor. “But he hasn’t had a drink in eight months. And he was fine when we left for the tournament.” She wrung her hands, her voice rising. “Are you sure about this? Where is he?”

  Eve rubbed her forehead. Maybe it wasn’t Ashley. Her concern for Miguel was too genuine. And she’d been in the rec hall the same time as Eve. They’d walked over together after their haircuts. Probably she should have thought this through before tossing out accusations. Should have talked it over with Rick first.

  “We can’t let Jackson find out,” Ashley went on, still clenching her hands. “Horses are Miguel’s life. He needs this job.” She turned back to Eve, her
eyes hopeful. “Did he massage Tizzy first? Before he started drinking?”

  “Rick thinks that was the reason for the liquor,” Eve said, still studying Ashley’s reaction. “To stop him from giving Tizzy the massage.”

  “Guess Tizzy won’t win now,” Ashley said glumly. “Victoria is a bitch but she sure is smart. Surprising she’d even think to go after Miguel.”

  Something tightened in Eve’s chest, an uneasy feeling triggered by Ashley’s comment. Victoria was smart, but like Jackson, she never gave Miguel any credit. She’d scoffed at riders who reported that the old groom’s horses seemed happier, preferring to use licensed masseuses who would justify owners’ expensive bills. Two hundred dollars a week for a massage would let Victoria pocket a higher percentage for each horse.

  And Miguel wasn’t even paid to massage. He did it because he used to be Tizzy’s groom and still loved the horse. But Victoria would have no reason to stop him, especially since she considered the man insignificant.

  “I don’t think Victoria would care about Miguel’s massage,” Eve said, almost to herself. “Even if you did tell her.”

  “Well, of course, I never told her anything.” Ashley’s head jerked back and forth, her cheeks flagged with pink. “I can’t believe you’d think that.”

  “But someone is feeding her information. When did you last talk to her?”

  “That’s a crazy question. After all you’ve done for me—teaching me to ride, helping me get my first job. You’re my best friend. You’d think I’d want to hurt you?”

  “But when did you last talk to her?”

  “I’m not dignifying that with an answer.” Ashley’s mouth flattened in a mutinous line.

  “She has to ask.” Rick’s voice came from behind Eve. “And you have to answer,” he said.

  Eve turned. Rick stood behind her. His powerful arms were crossed, his blue-gray eyes cold and menacing. He said nothing else, just stared.

  Ashley wilted.

  “I haven’t spoken to Victoria since she called about Tizzy’s jockey,” Ashley said. “And I’m truly sorry about Miguel. I would never give him alcohol.” She forced a meek smile. “Heck, I couldn’t even afford it.”

  “Do you know a guy called Marcus?” Eve asked. “Shaved head, scar on his jaw?”

  Ashley gave a reluctant nod. “But I never said anything to him about Miguel or our horses. He told me about an alcohol-free beer that pregnant people could drink. And he promised to find me some cheap vitamins. That’s all. You have to believe me.”

  Eve glanced at Rick. “Did Miguel recognize the person who gave him the alcohol?”

  “No,” Rick said, his expression still grim. “He never saw anyone. The bottle was left in front of Tizzy’s stall.”

  Hair rose on the back of Eve’s neck. “So someone not only knows everything about our staff, they also know our horses?”

  “Afraid so,” Rick said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Rick tightened his hold on Tizzy’s lead shank, even though the horse was totally relaxed, resting a hind leg as he stood in the saddling enclosure. A maintenance worker emptied a metal garbage can, but Tizzy barely flicked an ear at the ensuing clang.

  He forced his hand to loosen. The area was empty, except for the lone worker. And Tizzy wasn’t the type to spook. But the horse carried precious cargo.

  He glanced up at Eve, intensely aware of her every movement. She seemed warm, fiddling with the snap on her protective vest. Beneath the vest she wore a thin blue T-shirt and probably the pink sports bra, the one she’d washed that had been drying in the bathroom. He wasn’t sure of the color of her panties, only that they covered her firm ass. And that he worried about it every time she climbed on a horse.

  She was pushing herself too hard, and her wrist still wasn’t fully healed. She’d never admit it, never complain, but she always rode Stinger home one-handed, the injured wrist resting on her thigh…the same sculpted thighs that had wrapped around his hips two nights ago in a way that made him want to crawl back into her bed, and never leave.

  He felt himself growing hard and forced his attention off the rider and back to Tizzy. But the horse wasn’t near as exciting. And it was impossible not to think and hope and wonder about the next time he and Eve might have sex. Or even if they ever would.

  “Guess it’ll be more hectic here tomorrow,” he said, staring fixedly at Tizzy’s chest, and not at her leg, with the black boot that covered her tiny toes, along with the dainty arch he knew for a fact was one of her significant erogenous zones.

  She leaned forward and gave Tizzy an affectionate pat, her hand almost brushing Rick’s shoulder. He shifted back, away from the smell of her skin and the urge to pull her off the horse and do her against the wall of the outrider’s stall. But the maintenance worker was only a hundred feet away. Besides, Tizzy would probably trot back to the barn and that would draw all sorts of attention.

  “Tizzy won’t be much different in front of a crowd,” she said. “Not much bothers him. He’s a real gentleman. It’s just too bad he didn’t get that massage.”

  Massage. Rick forced a nod. Eve gave a great massage too, and he was stiffening just thinking about her hands between his legs, but he was quite sure they were talking about the horse now. Of course they were. He slapped down his thoughts, deciding his intense longing, the total awareness, was because this relationship was so damn fragile.

  He flexed his fingers, fiddling with the lead line. Right now, he could almost forget about Eve’s son. Pretend it was a minor inconvenience, and he could man up. He didn’t want to lose her. Wanted to stick close, day and night.

  But when her kid arrived...

  A chill swept him, and he stopped wondering if Tizzy would ground tie and if there was a possibility of grabbing some high-noon sex. Because this was going to be tough. And the way she looked at him made him feel like a fraud. She didn’t understand he was broken. And that maybe he’d already given everything he could.

  “Let’s walk him around the paddock one more time,” she said, loosening the buckle on her helmet.

  “Keep that tight,” he said. “You never know when a horse will jump. Even one as quiet as Tizzy.”

  “Hey, I’m the trainer.” She smiled, all teasing and light. “You’re supposed to listen to me.”

  “And I’m supposed to keep you safe.” His voice was unexpectedly rough.

  “Right.” Her smile turned sad. “I keep forgetting. I’m your job.”

  He swallowed, knew that was exactly what he’d been trying to remind them both. But he didn’t want it that way. And he hated to see the sadness in her face, and know that he’d put it there. “You’re much more than that,” he muttered.

  She looked at him for a long moment, as if sensing his turmoil. “And Joey?” she asked, with her typical openness.

  “I plan to work on that.” He took a ragged breath, knowing she had no idea how the prospect filled him with terror. And because she was looking at him with those beautiful eyes, and he really wanted to please her, he added, “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

  He basked in her relieved smile before stepping forward and leading Tizzy around the paddock. And he told himself it would be okay. He could handle one little boy.

  But dread pitted his stomach and his sweaty hands stuck to the leather lead shank. And while he was quite certain she didn’t pick up on his fear, Tizzy certainly did. The horse jammed his head in the air and skittered around the enclosure, acting far different from the confident Thoroughbred Rick had led into the paddock.

  In fact, Tizzy shivered with such nervous energy that sweat darkened his neck, matching the perspiration soaking Rick’s forehead. And no matter how Rick tried to control his reaction, it was impossible to stop his hands from shaking.

  *

  Eve closed the RV door, sank down at the kitchen table and stared glumly at her phone. Jackson didn’t want her dealing with owners, but Dex and Dani were friends. And they’d always promised they’d
take Tizzy back to the ranch if their horse wasn’t happy at the track.

  She’d lose her job if she didn’t follow orders. No trainer wanted their staff calling owners and possibly creating problems. That would only give Victoria more ammunition to fire Eve. But every owner deserved honest feedback. And so did Tizzy.

  She picked up her phone and resolutely pressed Dani’s number.

  “Double D Ranch.” Dex answered with a hint of impatience. Judging from the clink of tools, it sounded like he was in the process of shoeing a horse.

  She pulled in a fortifying breath, wishing it had been Dani who’d taken the call. Dex didn’t say much and certainly wasn’t one for coddling.

  “It’s Eve,” she said. “You know I have Tizzy at Riverview and he’s entered for tomorrow?”

  “Know he’s at Riverview,” Dex said. “Didn’t know he was running tomorrow.”

  She winced. Despite Jackson’s assurances, Victoria hadn’t even bothered to call the owners and tell them Tizzy was racing. Dex and Dani always enjoyed the thrill of watching their horse run. And Eve liked seeing them. They were good people.

  “I should have called,” she said. “He’s in the seventh, an allowance race, mile and a quarter.”

  “We can’t make it anyway. Dani’s brother is coming home. Tomorrow is the family dinner. How are Tizzy’s feet?”

  “Good,” Eve said. “The farrier you recommended came last week. And Tizzy’s in great shape, moving well, looks sharp.”

  “But?”

  “But lately he’s been acting different,” she admitted. “And during paddock training today, he was unsettled. As if he didn’t want to be there. You always said if he wasn’t happy you’d take him home. Turn him out in the pasture. It might be time…”

  Her voice trailed off in misery. She didn’t want to lose Tizzy. Hadn’t even been sure what she was going to say. But he’d run well in five races and been a flop the last three. And his agitation today was uncharacteristic. Like he was an unhappy horse. He was too talented to run that badly, so like Miguel said, it must be in his mind. Obviously he no longer wanted to be a racehorse.