by CM Foss
Maker was Trouble’s first son, and definitely our favorite of any horse we’d owned or bred. And he was as much of a pain as his mother, dancing around in the gates and tossing his head. His neck was muscled and arched, and I could practically hear him huffing out breaths, chafing at being restrained. I knew he was ready. I pictured Tessa whispering soothingly to him and winding a finger into his mane, preparing for the surge she’d soon feel.
A calm settled over the crowd while the horses fidgeted and stomped, anxious to be on their way. The bell sounded and the gates opened with a resounding clash.
“And they’re off!”
My heart more or less stopped. Or maybe it was pounding so furiously that I couldn’t feel the differentiation in beats. She was in the middle of the field, boxed in and fighting for position. I was riding with her, my body slightly crouched and my hands clenched on the program like it was a pair of reins. I’d learned so much.
A hole opened up and Maker sprang through the opening, drawing away from the other horses like they were nothing more than an annoyance, but then he eased up, conserving energy but content so long as he wasn’t surrounded.
A lifetime lived in a minute—they were still halfway from home. Using patience only ever exhibited on the track and never directed at me, Tessa was completely cool, waiting to make her move. A sense of peace washed over me, a sense of complete confidence that regardless of all the outside forces moving at a furious pace around her, she had this.
After what seemed like days but was actually mere hours, we sat on our couch, curled up with one another, staring at a blank television screen. I was twisting the ring on her finger, fiddling with the diamond and playing with different ways to catch the candlelight.
“Thanks for keeping it safe for me,” she said softly, watching me toy with it.
“Anytime. Can’t have this big ol’ thing tipping the scales.”
She snorted and let her head fall against my shoulder. I kissed the top of it, inhaling deeply of her scent. “You did good, baby.”
“Thank you. It felt good.”
“I bet.”
I felt her smile as she snuggled deeper into my arms, cocooning herself. “Thank you,” I whispered into her ear.
“For what?” she asked with a yawn.
“For our whole lives.”
I jumped to my feet and swung her over my shoulder, eliciting a surprised and somewhat disgruntled squeak out of her as she hung upside down.
“What are you doing?”
I paused, one hand on her perfect ass. “You’re officially retired, right?”
I imagined her scrunching up her nose like she does when she’s thinking. “Yeah. That was the plan.”
I nodded and stalked off to our bedroom. “Good.”
“What? Why?”
“Because now I’m gonna knock you up and throw away the scale.”
And so I did.
THE END
Thank You!
Thank you so much for reading Jock! I hope you enjoyed a view into a world most of us don’t get to see!
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Acknowledgments
Yay! My favorite part! I have so many people to thank for this book.
First needs to go to Rachel Gray. She is no longer with us, but she spent hours on the phone changing everything I thought I knew about racing and took the story that was in my mind and turned it on its head. I am forever grateful and will not forget that time.
To Krissy Close: My “in.” Thank you for all the texts and calls and for reading. Your help and longtime friendship means the world to me!
To K. Langston: You’re my girl, my sister wife, my voice of reason (or something like that). Thank you for every word of encouragement and slap upside the head. I love you in a weird, weird way.
To Lizzie: Dude. Always above and beyond. Thank you and I love you.
To Natasha and Mariah: You guys are betas extraordinaire. Thank you for your time and suggestions, and above all, your commentary.
To Mariah Deitz: I respect the crap out of you. Thank you for your notes and time. Thank you for being so awesome that I want to elevate my writing. Thank you for being so real.
To Erin Noelle: I don’t know what I’d do without you. So I won’t. Thank you for all your honesty and advice.
To my Whore-ios: Chrissy, Chris, Sally, Lissa, Steph, and Wendy, my loves. We’re way beyond sister-wives now. Thank you.
To the Legion of Moist: Kim, Brandy, Amy, Gemma, Flinds, you guys make my day, every day. Thank you for all of your encouragement, for your time and suggestions, and most of all, your friendship.
To my FTN girls: Thank you for letting me force my friendship on you, for the laughter and hilarity, for being the best and most reliable sounding boards.
To Carey Heywood: For being the earliest riser and for pulling me out of my rut. The trickle in. Genius.
To Lisa Spivack-Paul: You have such good ideas! Thank you so much for your advice and suggestions, and for caring so much. Gold.
To Anne Victory of Victory Editing, and to Linda and Crystalle: All day long I see people complaining about edits, but it’s my favorite part of the process. This is due to the wonderful team I have behind me. I live for your comments and corrections! Thank you.
To Streetlight Graphics: This cover is beyond my imagining. Your creativity, professionalism, and reliability are things I truly value. The fact that I never even have to think about formatting is also something I appreciate above all things.
To The Blurb Bitch: Knowledge of your existence made my life so much better. Thank you for your ideas and for forcing me to work through mine, for your time and brainstorming in coming up with the perfect synopsis.
To Amy Donnelly of Alchemy and Words, LLC: Not only are you one of the best people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, but one of the most talented. Thank you for the beautiful trailer and your beautiful heart.
To The Barnyard: To have the support and friendship of such a vast group of people is truly special. I hope I’ve taken care of your #JockItch. Thanks for #NotBeingDicks.
To Southern Belle Book Promotions: Thank you guys for your organizational skills, and for sending me links 2,673 times without complaint, and for just being awesome all the time. I wubs you.
To all of the bloggers who have pimped and shared, and who will continue to do so: Thank you for all you do. Sorry about the lawn threat.
To my family: We’ve given up on the clean house now, right?
And finally, because I like to save the best for last, to you, the reader. Without you, I’d be an oddball who sits around with a laptop, staring at other people while stories run through my head, stressing over every word, wearing dirty pajamas in public, and writing stories for no reason. It would be so weird, and not in a good way. Thank you for taking the time to pick up my stories, for the messages and comments and reviews. I am humbled and honored by each one of you.
Bio
CM Foss is a hopeless romantic with a love for the written word. When she was little, her mom would ration her books so she wouldn’t go through them too quickly. It didn’t matter, she would just re-read. She’s always been an avid equestrian, competing in the top levels of Three Day Eventing by age seventeen. CM now resides in Northern Virginia with her husband and kids where they own and operate their own
equestrian business, as well as raising grass-fed, sustainable meats. She doesn’t have this thing people call “free time”, but she does spent a weird amount of time writing, reading, playing with her kids, milking goats, and drinking wine, while avoiding bananas at all costs. Other books by CM Foss include Shiver, Swoon, and City Beautiful.