“Is he gone?” Martha whispered. She twisted her head and checked the doorway, her gray hair fanning the pillow.
“For now.” Becky tried to frown at her manipulative patient, but her lips twitched and it was impossible to keep from smiling. “You won’t be able to pull the old sleep trick much longer though. Here, drink this.”
Martha scowled but accepted the glass and swallowed the colorful pills. “Ted’s like my sister. Rather bossy, but at least he cares.”
“Yes, and I’m afraid this time he’s right.” Becky’s voice turned serious. “You shouldn’t watch any more races, at least until you’re stronger.” Regret shadowed Martha’s eyes so Becky quickly added, “We could always drive over to the gallop track and watch the horses here on the property.”
Martha sniffed. “Better than nothing, I suppose. But watching them train at home isn’t nearly as exciting as racing at Lone Star. I simply don’t understand what happened to Hunter. Malcolm bred that horse for endurance. He should be able to get the distance. And Dino is a top-notch trainer. He knows how to condition a three-year-old.” She reached out and grabbed Becky’s hand. “I don’t want to sell the horses, not until Malcolm’s breeding program is vindicated. And I don’t want to look at Ted’s silly brochures. Not yet.”
“Then don’t,” Becky said, alarmed by the odd note of helplessness in Martha’s voice. “Selling is your decision. But you should probably stay away from the track.”
“You’ll have to go for me then.” Martha’s grip tightened around her wrist. “Watch the horses. Keep an eye on things. Malcolm always said absentee owners created problems.”
“But I don’t know enough!” Becky’s voice rose. It wasn’t the horses that scared her but the people, and her pulse kicked at the thought of seeing Dino every day. Having to talk to him. She didn’t like to be around men, any sort of men, but especially not big, confident ones.
“You’ve learned a lot in your time here, and your resume said you went to a riding camp. That’s one of the reasons we hired you. Now I want you to do this one small thing.” Martha softened her grip and gave Becky’s hand a knowing pat. “Don’t worry, dear. Dino won’t bite. He’s a kind man, and his flirting is harmless.”
Harmless maybe, Becky thought, wringing her hands. But for someone with zero social confidence, dealing with Dino’s charm was like having a root canal. Everyone gravitated toward him. Entering his sphere was like being on stage. The mere thought of visiting the track without Martha as a buffer made her stomach cramp.
“Yes, well, glad that’s settled.” Martha closed her eyes with a satisfied smile. “I’ll be able to sleep now.”
Becky yanked the nightstand closer to the bed and plunked a water glass next to Martha’s bible. This was not good. Once Martha made up her mind, she was like a rhino. I need you to do this one small thing. Maybe it seemed small to Martha, but it didn’t feel small to her, and the panicked thumping of her chest wasn’t at all reassuring.
Chapter Three
“It’s a good thing you drive so slowly. At least we won’t scare the horses.” Martha blew out an impatient sigh. “No chance of that, not at this speed.”
Becky stopped the Mercedes, ignoring Martha’s criticism as a chestnut horse cruised around the training track. The rider was tiny, with a blond ponytail that bounced beneath a white helmet, and horse and rider moved with fluid grace. “What horse is that?” She twisted further in the driver’s seat, craning to see.
The Conrad stable was huge, and although she’d visited the barn and private track many times before, she rarely came in the morning when horses trained. That had been Malcolm’s passion, Malcolm’s domain. He’d always been the one to accompany Martha.
“That’s Echo Beach, a three-year-old filly.” Martha’s voice swelled with pride and she lowered the window, letting in a rush of warm air. “Malcolm said Echo’s quirky and doesn’t like to travel, but she’s one of our best. Dino wants to enter her in a six-furlong sprint next week.”
Which meant he might be around today, Becky realized. Dino spent most of his time at the Lone Star track, but if this filly was racing soon… Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel, although she managed to keep her gaze from darting to his guesthouse. “How many days a week is Dino here?” she asked, surprised her voice sounded so level.
“As much as necessary.” Martha shrugged. “Slim manages things—under Dino’s direction—but Dino always comes for the works.”
Becky peeked over her shoulder. Several dusty cars sat in the parking lot, along with a rugged truck that carried the Conrad logo. She knew Slim, a short graying man who didn’t talk much and who’d been with Conrad’s for years. Despite his crustiness, she was fairly comfortable with him. Please, let it be Slim who drove that tough-looking truck.
“Look at the stride on that filly.” Martha’s head craned out the window.
Becky leaned forward, intrigued despite the yawningly early hour. As long as there were few people around, it was more enjoyable to sit in the car and watch the beautiful horses than sit in the house and worry about Martha.
“See that!” Martha gestured, her voice rising.
Even Becky recognized the horse’s effortless burst of speed. The rider waved a whip, buried herself in the horse’s neck, and the filly scorched around the track. “I think she’ll win any race she runs,” Becky said, staring in awe. “How could she lose?”
“She does look good.” Martha oozed satisfaction as she leaned back and raised the window. “Drive over by the rail and see what Dino says.”
“He’s h-here?” Becky’s voice cracked and she raised a hand to her mouth, pretending to cough. Martha already thought she was absurdly tongue-tied around men. She’d tease unmercifully if she knew Dino’s presence left her brain paralyzed.
“Of course he’s here.” Martha huffed with impatience. “That was a work—a fast gallop, not a conditioning session. Like I said, he always comes for an important work.”
“I see.” Becky peeked in the mirror. Maybe she should have put on some makeup. Not for Dino of course, merely as a confidence boost. But it was only seven a.m. Who wore makeup this early?
She glanced sideways, her mouth twitching. Clearly Martha did. Rouge had already settled into her wrinkled cheeks. However, she still looked regal. Nothing scared Martha. Although since the double whammy of Malcolm’s death and her subsequent heart attack, she’d grown more fragile. Now she needed moral support, and Becky’s job had evolved into companion as much as a nurse.
Becky edged the Mercedes beside the tough truck with a jutting trailer hitch and resolutely squared her shoulders. If Martha wanted her to learn about race horses, she’d do that. And she’d force herself to talk. No big deal. People did it all the time.
Martha’s door abruptly clicked open. Dino’s heart-stopping grin appeared, his eyes shadowed by the brim of his cowboy hat, and Becky’s resolution snagged in her throat.
“Did you see that, Martha?” Enthusiasm filled his voice as he swung the door wide and smiled down at Martha. “Four furlongs in forty-six seconds. Filly’s not even blowing. Looks great for Saturday.”
“Excellent.” Martha took his hand, accepting his help as she maneuvered out of the car. “I, however, won’t be able to attend. Ted and Becky don’t approve. Apparently my stuttering heart can’t handle all the excitement.”
Becky slid from the driver’s seat as Dino’s gaze swung in her direction. His smile remained but his disapproval blasted across the roof of the car, making her want to shrink back into the seat. She ignored him, pretending to watch as Slim slipped a lead line on the returning filly.
The rider vaulted off, removing her helmet and shaking out her ponytail as she sauntered toward them. “Hello, Mrs. Conrad,” she called, perky and pretty. “Remember me? I’m Stephanie.” She reached out and shook Martha’s hand. “Glad you dropped by. We all miss Malcolm, but he’d be very happy to see how this filly has developed.” The blond rider was older than she first appeared, probably in he
r thirties, with laugh lines that fanned her eyes. “Let me know if you stay here tonight, Dino,” she added. “I can pop over later.”
She included Becky in her friendly wave and walked away with only the slightest of swaggers. Anyone who could ride like that probably deserved to strut a bit. She had a whip stuck in her back pocket, well-worn chaps fringed with leather, and a pink protective vest. Five-foot-nothing, a full six inches shorter than Becky, yet she walked as though she were invincible. Becky squared her own shoulders and peeked at Dino.
He nodded but wasn’t looking at Stephanie, his attention still focused on Martha. “Let’s go in the office and grab a coffee.” He slipped a supportive hand beneath Martha’s elbow. “You can see Hunter too. He shipped in last night. I’m going to throw out yesterday’s fiasco. Give him a month off. Then find another race.”
“Did the vet check him out?” Becky heard Martha ask as she trailed the mismatched couple into the barn. Dino’s height and broad shoulders dwarfed Martha, emphasizing her frailness, although the man’s virility probably overpowered most people. He’d slowed his long stride to fit Martha’s ambulatory shuffle, and his jeans molded to his lean hips like a second skin.
Gosh, this was perfect. Now she could stare all she wanted. He didn’t seem so threatening when he wasn’t trying to engage her in conversation. And no wonder women clung to his arms. The T-shirt hinted at ridges in his back, and she could easily imagine him shirtless, looking like one of those muscled magazine men.
His body alone would make up for any deficiencies of character, although he didn’t seem to have any. Always cheerful, never condescending, one of the few people who always acknowledged her…and she really shouldn’t be ogling his ass.
She jerked her head away, concentrating instead on the unique smell of horses, hay and leather. So welcoming, so soothing—the smell alone sparked a nostalgic rush. Straw rustled as horses poked curious heads over stall doors, checking her out as she walked down the aisle and acting just like the animals she remembered from camp.
A horse nickered, not a feed-me call but a soft, throaty sound that beckoned like a siren. She paused. The horse stuck a head over the door and nickered again, watching her with soulful, brown eyes. Had to be a girl. No boy could possibly have such beautiful eyelashes. The mare had dark-tipped ears, black hairs on her white face and the most elegant head Becky had ever seen.
“That’s Lyric,” Dino said, glancing over his shoulder as though sensing her interest. “Bred here but retired now.”
“She’s beautiful,” Becky breathed, forgetting her awkwardness. “May I go in?”
He hesitated but must have seen the longing on her face. “Yeah, okay. But be careful. She nips. And don’t touch her belly. She’ll kick. She’s also an escape artist, so watch the door.” He gave a wry smile. “Actually that mare is tricky. Let me help you.”
“No, I’m fine,” she said quickly.
He lingered for a moment, but it was obvious he wanted time alone with Martha. A slow nod, and he turned and continued down the aisle.
Becky slid back the bolt. The mare watched with hopeful eyes then, exactly as he’d warned, charged forward, trying to barge past. She yanked the door shut just in time. Lyric flattened her ears and swung her head, threatening to bite.
She laughed, remembering a cranky mare from camp behaving exactly the same way. That horse had merely craved attention though and, like a kid, her nasty mood was only a front.
“Don’t be silly,” she scolded, scratching the mare’s jaw.
Lyric’s ears flicked but moments later she lowered her head and sighed, her breath sweet with the smell of alfalfa.
Becky sighed too, almost able to imagine she was thirteen again. Subsidized camp had been a refuge from the foster homes she’d bounced through. No one yelled at her or chased her or worse, and she’d been allowed to sleep in the barn with kind counselors and kinder horses—the only time she’d ever experienced any real security. Except now, with Martha.
A voice sounded in the aisle but she remained in the stall, engrossed with scratching Lyric. The mare forgot to pretend she was cross and stretched her neck, grunting with pleasure.
The voice moved closer, speaking low but with urgent undertones. She peered over the stall door. Recognized Slim but his back was to her, a cell phone pressed against his ear.
“Hunter’s here, but no problem. I’ll look after it,” he said before closing his phone.
“Hi, Slim,” she said.
He jerked around.
“I didn’t mean to surprise you,” she added quickly. “Dino said it was okay to go in the stall.”
“Fine with me so long as you don’t get kicked.” Slim shoved the phone in his pocket. “That mare’s poison. Where’s Dino?”
“In the office. With Martha.”
He grunted but said nothing. She’d always been able to relax during past meetings with Slim, but now he scuffed the floor with his boot and his discomfort was contagious. The silence stretched.
“I saw the race yesterday,” she said brightly, stepping into the aisle and pushing the door shut before Lyric could rush past. “Heard Hunter shipped back already.”
Slim jabbed a thumb. “Yeah, want to see him? Third stall from the end. Heard he ran a clunker. Guess that means Mrs. Conrad will sell soon?” His voice rose with worry, and Becky’s empathy swelled. Naturally the man was concerned. His job was at stake, and she’d heard his daughter was confined to an institution.
“I don’t think any sale decisions have been made,” she said, following the direction of Slim’s thumb to where an imperious head stared down the aisle. Hunter still looked cocky, not at all like a horse that only yesterday had been beaten twenty lengths. Confidence was a wonderful thing.
She trailed Slim as they approached the colt but slowed when she saw the fluid that trickled from Hunter’s left nostril. “Is something wrong with him?”
“Why do you ask?” Slim’s voice chilled.
“There’s some discharge. I just wondered if he was sick.”
“He’s fine. A bunch of dirt was kicked in his face yesterday. Better back away though. Colts bite.” He motioned her down the aisle. “Come on. Let’s see what’s happening.”
She followed him into Dino’s office where Martha was tucked in a corner chair. Her color was good, her eyes bright, and clearly whatever she’d discussed with Dino hadn’t been too upsetting.
And the office smelled enticing. Becky stepped past Slim, lured by the smell of hickory coffee. Martha had insisted they rise early, and there hadn’t been time for their usual breakfast of green tea and toast. She didn’t particularly like green tea but Martha was on a strict diet, so now her mouth watered at the smell of fresh coffee.
Dino lounged in a chair behind the desk and gestured at the coffee maker. “Help yourself. You too, Slim. Come hear the news. Now that Martha can’t attend the races, she’s appointed a watchdog.”
His voice hardened, and Becky tried not to flinch beneath his cool stare. Gone was the congenial man she’d always seen at the track. Now his eyes were dark and formidable. How had they ever reminded her of sweet caramel?
She walked to the coffee machine, relieved her hand didn’t shake as she filled two cups and passed one to Slim. Hostility always bothered her, but this was unwarranted. She wasn’t really a watchdog…well, maybe a bit. But so what? Dino was only racing horses; she was trying to save Martha’s life.
She raised her head, guessing her cheeks were beet red but determined not to shrink. He can’t hurt me. He didn’t run a foster home, couldn’t give orders and, like her, was only an employee. Besides, Martha’s wellbeing was more important than a bunch of horses galloping in a circle.
“It was a joint decision that Martha avoid the track. Ted and the doctor feel the same way.” She had to speak uncharacteristically loud to be heard over the whir of the air conditioner. “Especially after Hunter’s poor race yesterday,” she added with a spark of alacrity. Hunter had run like shit, and
Dino was the trainer.
His mouth tightened. Oh, damn, now she’d really made him mad. She took a hasty sip of coffee.
“So you’re not selling the horses yet, Mrs. Conrad?”
She’d forgotten about Slim’s presence, and thankfully his worried question drew everyone’s attention.
“No,” Martha said with a reassuring smile at Slim. “But I want to ensure everything runs smoothly. Want to know what’s happening.” She turned her attention back to Dino. “And I expect you both to accord Becky every courtesy.”
“Certainly.” Dino tipped his hat. “It will be our pleasure.” But his words were clipped and it was quite clear, at least to Becky, that her company would be far from pleasurable.
***
Dino watched the silver Mercedes inch from the graveled lot. Hell, the little nurse drove like an old lady. In some respects, she seemed older even than Martha. Luckily not all the live-in nurses were so staid. A couple of them had been downright neighborly and one of them, the lovely Greta, had spent a few steamy evenings in his guesthouse.
He rubbed his jaw, trying to remember when Greta had left. Three months ago, maybe four. Hard to remember. Martha always had two or three nurses and while the pretty ones never seemed to stay long, the Brown-Betty nurse hung around forever. He still wasn’t sure of her name although she’d shown some unexpected spunk in his office. She’d surprised him, and women rarely surprised him.
“Cute little thing,” Slim said behind him.
“Who?”
“Well, I’m sure as hell not talking about the old lady.”
“Don’t call her the old lady,” Dino said absently. “Martha’s our employer. And is the nurse’s name Becky or Betty?”
“Betty, I think. I can ask the housekeeper. Jocelyn knows everything.”
Dino shrugged, his thoughts already switching to horses. “What did the vet say about Hunter?”
“That everything’s fine.” Slim hooked his thumbs in his jeans and tugged his sagging pants into position. “You staying here tonight?”
Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) Page 72
