Randy walked over to get it, careful to keep one hand on the back of his head. When near then, Dawn reached for it, but he held tight. “You don’t really need to put this on,” he said, “just take a look.” He turned his back to her, waiting until she leaned out further, then took hold of her hand and smiled as he gently pushed the door open. Dawn was amazed, even knowing him by now, and shook her head as he let go of her arm and stepped back to look at her.
Digging deep into her Bask-Fioritto breeding, she stood tall, her head turned to one side as she crossed her arms under her bare breasts.
Randy stepped back further, and leaned against the vanity, taking a deep breath as he took a slower look.
“Well now that you’ve had your fun, get out of here and let me get dressed before Linda gets home.” She reached for her robe.
Randy handed it to her, then ran his hand down her shoulder. “Are you sure you want to put this on?” He lowered his eyes again, and gazed back up slowly to hers.
She didn’t answer, silent as he started to unbutton his shirt, and shook her head. “Randy, Linda and I have a pact,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she watched him take his shirt off. “We can’t do this.” She stepped closer to help him undo the snap on his jeans.
Waking, Dawn reached for the digital clock next to the bed, and had to stare at it a few seconds before she could make out the time. It was two o’clock. She put it down softly, laid back, and gazed at Randy, sound asleep. He had one arm up over the back of his pillow, the other across his chest. Closing her eyes then, she thought about the way he’d made love to her. So slowly...so gently. As if she were breakable china. Whispering over and over, that he loved her.
Sighing deeply, she got out of bed and tiptoed into the bathroom. When she came back Randy was awake.
“Linda’s going to kill me. Maybe worse,” she said.
Randy pulled her close. “No, she won’t. She’s not coming home tonight.”
“How do you know?”
“There was a note inside the fridge. I saw it when I got my beer. She said she’d be home tomorrow.” He glanced at the clock. “Make that today.”
“You knew all along, and yet you let me worry.”
Randy smiled, tracing his hand down her hip. “You didn’t act worried. Besides, it meant more to me that you’d break the pact and take a chance, not knowing she wasn’t coming home.” He kissed her, then pulled her on top of him.
“Well, I still have to tell her.”
“Whatever.” Randy smiled. “But in the meantime, would you do something for me?”
“Yes, what?”
“Take that braid out of your hair and make love to me. And take your time.”
Chapter Sixteen
Dawn entered the tack room as Ben scratched Beau’s name off the training chart and added All Together’s. It stopped her for a moment. “At least we don’t have to worry about a stall for her anymore,” he said. It was final. Tom came in behind her with the latest scoop on the jocks’ room bust.
“They only arrested the two, but from what I hear, they confiscated over five thousand dollars in drugs and paraphernalia. It was everywhere I guess. Under the cots, up in the ceiling tile, everywhere. And Miguel’s still in a coma.”
There, he turned his attention to Dawn. “So, how was the rest of your night? Did Randy score?”
Dawn shook her head in disbelief. Ben scowled at him. Yet he persisted. “What’s the big deal? We’re talking about a fact of life here. Forget it, I’ll ask Randy.”
Dawn stared, her face flushing. Would Randy tell him? She wondered. After all, what did she really know about Randy? The kind of person he was. What he stood for.
Tom noticed her reaction, and found himself quickly apologizing. “Hey, I was only kidding. I won’t ask.”
Dawn walked out past him. Tom turned to Ben when she’d gone, knowing better, and had a fit when Ben just shook his head.
“Jesus Christ! I’m not going to talk to anybody around here anymore. Everybody’s so goddamned touchy.”
Ben sighed. Tom pouted for hours after this. But all was well when Brownie arrived to shoe a horse. Randy showed up a few minutes later. He checked on Beau first, then walked down to the end of the shedrow, greeted Ben, Tom, and Brownie, and smiled at Dawn. “The Durans’ mare foaled,” he said. “I thought you might want to ride out with me.”
“I’d love to,” she said, lost in his eyes and forgetting all her doubts earlier.
“Speaking of foals,” Brownie said. “I hear Bud’s daughter Ginney’s in a family way.”
For a moment, a very quiet, still moment, no one responded. They all just stared. Ben broke the silence. “Well, I hope she’s getting married.”
“I don’t know,” Brownie said, shrugging. “Hear tell, she don’t know who the father is.”
Again, silence.
Tom cleared his throat. “How pregnant is she?” he asked, his voice sounding odd.
Randy looked at Brownie, awaiting his answer with the same apparent interest.
Brownie laughed, amused at the expression on Tom and Randy’s faces. “No more’n a couple of months, from what I hear.”
Ben wasn’t amused however, nor laughing, and stood shaking his head at Tom.
Randy spoke next. “Less than a couple of months?”
Ben looked at Randy now, and shook his head again.
Tom was staring at the ground and tapping his fingers together, trying to count weeks in his head. Randy, on the other hand, was trying to look nonchalant while doing the same.
“Son of a bitch.”
The Durans’ foal was a fine colt, chestnut, large and big-boned, and looked a lot like its mother as it hovered close to her side. “She foaled all by herself. We came out to check on her and there he was.”
With Dawn and Mr. Duran’s help, Randy managed to vaccinate him, dab iodine on the remaining stump of the umbilical cord, and give him a once-over. When turned loose, the foal charged around the stall on wobbly legs, shaking his head furiously and bouncing off his mother repeatedly in the act. The Durans, along with Randy and Dawn, stood outside the stall in awe.
Mr. Duran motioned for Randy to follow him then, and led him down to the end of the barn. Dawn stayed with his wife, both of them oohing and aahing whenever the foal moved, or nursed, or even so much as looked at them.
“I found that article I was telling you about,” Mr. Duran said, motioning toward Dawn. “About her family.”
Randy gulped. There was something about the way he’d said “family.”
“I had my secretary go through some old publications.” He pulled it out of his back pocket. “Here.”
Randy took it from him, stared down at it a few seconds, then looked up. “That was nice of you. I think.”
Mr. Duran chuckled. “Like I said the other day, I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Randy nodded and tucked it away, feeling a little like a twelve-year old who’d just been handed his first Playboy.
“It fascinates me,” Mr. Duran said, “her being at the racetrack. It says in the article that she’s a writer.” He lowered his voice even more. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
Randy agreed. “A writer?” He glanced at Dawn, his eyes wide. “What does she write?”
“She freelances, I guess, and also writes for the local newspaper. It makes a comment about some feature she did on the racetrack.”
Randy shook his head. They walked back then, and he and Dawn left after a few minutes. “Where to next?” Randy asked, motioning at the clipboard.
“It says here, you have to worm a horse at Ridgeway Stables, corner of Route 89 and Ridgeway Rd.” She turned the clipboard sideways and read, “Jag is burning oil, check it out.” She looked at him.
“Oh yeah, I noticed it this morning when you dropped me off at my apartment. You probably should have it looked at.”
Dawn smiled. “Okay, I will.” It was nice he’d make note of something like that. It gave her a
rather warm feeling for some reason. But in the next instant, she remembered Brownie’s news flash and chilled.
Randy reached over and took hold of her hand. “You’re quieter than usual today. Even more so. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged and slipped her hand away. “Just thinking.”
Randy glanced at her. “About what?”
Dawn sighed. “About Ginney what’s her face.”
Randy looked out his window. He’d figured as much.
“Well?”
He glanced at her again. “Well what?”
Dawn hesitated. “Could you be the father?”
Randy shrugged at first and then nodded.
Dawn looked out her window. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Just like that?”
Randy’s face reddened. “Yes, just like that.” He raised both hands off the steering wheel. “End of subject.”
“That’s an admirable attitude.”
“Hey look, Dawn. Me and about twenty other guys...” He trailed off, and drew a deep breath. “Let’s just drop it, okay?”
They rode to the next three farm calls with little exchanged between them. Dawn wallowed in her thoughts about Ginney and her fatherless baby. Randy could think of nothing but Dawn, her writing, and how it all figured.
“Can you stop at a service station? I need to use the ladies room.”
Randy pulled into the very next one, and while waiting, he too thought about Ginney. How stupid of her in this day and age to become pregnant. She said she took birth control pills. Her baby was her problem. Not his. His was in the ladies room, probably hating his guts.
He reached into his back pocket for the magazine. The article was marked. He started reading it, skipping parts as he glanced up repeatedly to see if Dawn was coming. “Oh my God,” he said to himself. He skimmed the rest, saw Dawn, and promptly tossed the magazine out the window into the trash.
Dawn glanced at him as she got in. “I take it, it wasn’t worth keeping?”
Randy shook his head, about fifteen questions running through his mind, started the truck and pulled back out onto the highway.
“Well...?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t need it anymore.”
Dawn looked at him. “What was it about?” She’d seen Mr. Duran hand it to him, and couldn’t help being curious.
“There was an article in there he thought I might want to read.” A millionaire? Why did she lie to me? Underworld connections? “I read all I wanted to.”
Dawn nodded. “I don’t know how you can do that. I keep everything, especially if someone took the time to save it for me. That’s what libraries are for.”
Randy laughed. “Yeah, well I file things. I don’t have a library. I suppose you do.”
“Of course,” Dawn said matter-of-factly. “I’m a writer. And it’s full of things I’ve saved.”
Randy looked at her. “Is your library at your mansion?”
“The mansion? No, I sold it.”
Randy couldn’t believe this conversation. “So where is it then?”
“At the apartment.”
“Right.” Randy pulled off the road and put the truck into park. Now was as good a time as any to get this out in the open. He turned and faced her. “What do you write?”
“Everything.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re a writer?”
“It never came up.”
Randy nodded and leaned back. “How did I know you’d say that?”
Dawn smiled.
“So what are you doing at the racetrack?”
“I was writing a story for the newspaper and I fell in love with Beau...and Ben, and the racetrack.” She paused, recalling, “I was like a little kid at the circus.”
Randy smiled. She was so pretty. “When was this?”
“Last year,” she said, and looked away.
Randy hesitated. Maybe he was making too much out of this. So big deal, she’s a millionaire. The article did say there was never any proof of Mafia connections. “Do you see people at the racetrack?”
This question irritated Dawn. She knew exactly where this was headed. “Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind, Randy?”
“I am.” He raised an eyebrow. “I was just wondering. Do you have any friends at the track?” Even the article had referred to her being a loner. “Does it bother you, my asking?”
Dawn sighed. “No. I don’t have many friends, if that’s what you’re getting at, at the track or anywhere else. Lots of acquaintances. That’s it. Linda’s my best friend.” She glanced out her window into the darkness, and edged ever so slightly closer to him then.
“Linda’s your cousin.”
“She’s also my best friend, and if you have a problem with that, then it’s your problem. Because that’s just the way it is.” She glanced out her window again. “Can we go? This road is scary.”
Randy nodded, put the truck into drive, and pulled back onto the highway. They rode for a moment without talking. “So, are you writing something now?” Randy asked.
“Yes. I’m working on a novel about the racetrack. I’ve been working on it since I did the article last year.”
Randy stared at the road, the yellow lines a blur. It all made sense now. She befriends a trainer. Rubs elbows with the jocks, agents, and owners. Learns the life from inside out. And now a veterinarian. How else to get that perspective. He shook his head, wondering if it was in the plan for them to screw, or if that was just a fringe benefit of the assignment. “How do you get your material for what you write?” he asked, clearing his throat. “Do you have to do a lot of research?”
Dawn smiled. “Of course you do. Otherwise it wouldn’t be believable. Not to mention this being my first novel and...”
Randy nodded. It was all too clear to him now. He knew he was right. And he was pissed. It was a good thing he’d figured it out now, before he got more involved with her. He’d just go along for the ride. Why not? She’s beautiful. Who wouldn’t? She’s not going to hurt me, he told himself, now that I know. But he was hurting already.
Dawn edged over a little closer to him. “Are we still on for pasta?”
Randy glanced out his side window, and looked at her. “Sure,” he said, and even managed to smile. “We’re only about ten minutes from there now.”
As promised, the dinner was outstanding. It was a local mom and pop restaurant, the modest dining area packed with small tables covered with red and white checkered tablecloths. Empty Chianti bottles were used as candle holders, wax dripping down the sides. The pasta was homemade, cooked to perfection, the sauce sweet, and the best garlic bread Dawn had ever had.
“I didn’t know they even had restaurants like this anymore. I can see why it’s your favorite.”
Randy smiled. Now was his chance. “I thought all you Italians stuck together. I can’t believe you didn’t know about this place.”
Dawn stared at him for a few seconds. “I believe your kilt is showing, Mr. Iredell.”
Randy’s face reddened. He’d certainly had that coming, and never would have said anything in the first place, had he not read that article.
“Are we going to have dessert?”
Randy smiled, lowering his eyes distinctly. “I was counting on it. My apartment’s right around the corner.”
Dawn chuckled. “Are you insinuating I’m dessert?”
Randy reached for his wallet. “I plan on locking the door behind us and not letting you go home tonight.”
“Randy, we’ve been through this.”
Randy stood up. “I know, the underwear. I’m one step ahead of you. There’s a K-Mart between here and my place. We’ll stop and buy you some.”
Dawn laughed.
“I’m serious,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.
And he was. In the aisle at K-Mart, he picked out a pair of black bikini panties. “What about these?” he asked, holding them
against her.
Dawn shook her head. “I don’t like bikini style.” She was looking at a plain white pair of briefs and checking the tag to make sure it was 100% cotton. “These will do.”
Randy frowned, faked a bored yawn, and reached past her for a red bikini pair with a black heart on the front. “Now here’s a nice pair. Let’s get these.”
Dawn held up the cotton pair. “Really, Randy. These are just fine. I always wear cotton. It’s uh...comfortable.”
“Comfortable? Who’s worried about comfortable? We’ll take these.”
“And these.” Dawn laughed when he stopped and picked up a frilly black bra. “Forget it,” she said, and dragged him to the checkout.
His apartment was on the bottom floor of a hi-rise, third door from the lobby. Inside, Dawn toured each room, surprised at how clean everything was, until Randy reminded her that his sister Cindy had just left.
“When will she be coming back?”
Randy headed to the kitchen for two beers. “I’m not sure. She’s applied at a local university. She misses her boyfriend too much when she’s here.”
Dawn nodded and stared at his bed, a waterbed. “What?” Randy said, returning and handing her a beer. “You’ve never slept on one?”
When Dawn hesitated, as if trying to remember, Randy grew angry with himself for asking. Just the thought of her on a bed other than her own. “Do you want a glass?”
“No, this is fine,” Dawn said, and followed him into the living room. Randy turned the television on in passing, out of habit mainly, realized what he’d just done, and was about to turn it right back off, but Dawn stopped him.
“Leave it on. It’s Magnum P.I.”
Randy shrugged and sat down next to her on the couch.
“This is one of my favorite shows.”
Randy stared at the picture.
“You know, come to think of it, you look like him.”
“Who?”
“Tom Selleck.”
Randy laughed. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious.” Dawn smoothed his hair. “A little younger maybe, lighter hair.”
“Right, just like him.”
Winning Odds Trilogy Page 20