Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3)

by Bev Pettersen

  “No. She quit jockeying after she had her baby. She’s strictly an exercise rider now. Prefers the relaxed atmosphere here.”

  “She has a baby?” Becky asked. “Is she married?”

  “Divorced.”

  He glanced down the track. Stephanie turned the filly and headed back, her smile unmistakable. A good sign. Steph was a savvy rider with great instincts and if she was happy with the horse, it boded well.

  Usually it boded well. Stephanie had shared his opinion that Hunter would win last week, and they’d both been dead wrong about that one. He suppressed a spike of uncertainty.

  Echo trotted up in a swirl of dust. “This filly’s ready to fire a big one.” Stephanie’s breath came in short gasps as she unsnapped her helmet. “I want to send a bet down. I’m guessing we were bang on the forty-nine seconds you wanted.”

  “A little quicker actually,” Dino said, “but it all looked good.” Stephanie had a stopwatch in her head. The time was a bit faster then he expected, but the filly had galloped easy and would have plenty left for the race.

  Slim looped his lead through the bridle and she vaulted off, while Echo pawed and jigged as though eager to run another quarter mile.

  “Save your energy, girl.” Dino patted her damp neck. “You’ll need it for Saturday. Make sure she’s on the grounds by seven on race day, Slim. I’ll have a stall ready.” He turned to Becky. “Want to tack up Lyric now?”

  She nodded, her face still shining as she admired Echo. “This is going to make Martha so happy. I can’t wait until Saturday. Looks like she can’t lose.”

  Dino smiled, but a horse race was never a sure thing, and much depended on luck. Yes, Echo looked like a winner—but so had Hunter. A lot was outside his control. The only thing a trainer could do was get the horse to the starting gate—happy, healthy and ready to run.

  “Lyric’s on the hot walker,” Slim said. “No one told me she was going to be ridden today.”

  Dino swung around, stunned by the man’s rudeness. Malcolm had held Slim in high esteem but a poor attitude was never acceptable.

  “I’ll show Becky how the hot walker works,” he snapped. “And you and I need to meet later, at noon, to make sure everyone is in accord.”

  “Everyone is in accord, boss,” Slim said quickly. “Just saying she’s on the walker. That mare’s been standing around for years. Might do her good to be ridden. It’s not like she’s my horse.”

  Dino glanced at Becky, afraid her enthusiasm might be dampened by Slim’s surliness. Usually she was so quiet. But she wasn’t ducking her head now. In fact, she stood firmly on his right, facing Slim with squared shoulders. He sensed she was trying to look tough but the effect was ruined slightly by her pink lips, sweet, vulnerable lips smudged with a spot of white icing.

  “Let’s go to the hot walker, Becky,” he said, clenching his hand, resisting the impulse to wipe away the icing. But, Jesus, he couldn’t stop staring at her hot little mouth. He looped his hand around her hip and tugged her away from Slim, then lowered his arm, annoyed by his compulsion to touch her. “You have icing on your face,” he muttered.

  She swiped at her lips as she trotted beside him, clearly oblivious to his thoughts. “I thought a hot walker was a person?”

  “That’s one kind,” he said, staring straight ahead. “But there’s also a mechanical hot walker. You probably saw them at Lone Star. You clip the horse on and they walk around in a circle. Saves time and labor.”

  “But I didn’t see anything like that here,” she said.

  He let his gaze slide back over her face. She looked different today. Must be her hair. Usually it flopped around her face, but today the ponytail held it back. She really was damn cute.

  He jerked his head away, pointing at a large circular roof, which always reminded him of a fairground ride. “The hot walker here is different. Deluxe. Sides are enclosed, and horses are loose in individual sections. It’s safer and the timer can be programmed.”

  “How long was Lyric in there?”

  “Press the third button on the right and check the memory. It tells everything.”

  Becky walked up to the controls, stood on her toes and peered at the steel box. “Thirty minutes. Will she be too tired for me to ride?”

  The wind grabbed her bulky shirt, exposing an inch of creamy skin on her back. He wished the wind would push it higher. Wished she’d at least tuck it in, so he could check out her curves. Ever since he saw her shirtless, he’d been intensely aware of her femininity.

  “Will Lyric be too tired?” she repeated and he jerked his brain back, irritated. Maybe he was a pig. My God, this woman was practically a nun, and he was mentally undressing her. She wasn’t even his type. Someone’s type, but definitely not his.

  “No, that’s a good warm-up,” he said, his voice thick. “Now press the red button, tuck your shirt in and grab your horse.”

  Her nose wrinkled in confusion. “Tuck my shirt in?”

  “It’s safer.” He kept a solemn expression. “Horses. Moving equipment. You never see a cowboy riding in a flapping shirt, do you?”

  “No, I guess not.” She reached down and tucked the end of her oversized shirt into her jeans.

  He crossed his arms, watching with appreciation as her curves emerged. “You look really nice,” he said impulsively.

  She froze. Her gaiety vanished and her face turned so pinched, he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

  “Sorry, Becky.” He raised his hands. “I was out of line.”

  But she stared as though he were some kind of sex offender, and he felt like a piece of shit. “Look, I apologize,” he said. “Sometimes I have a big mouth. But you look nice today…and I thought you should know.”

  Her face slowly relaxed, and she stopped looking like a helpless bunny poised for flight.

  “Come on,” he drawled, trying to hide his remorse. “Press the red button and get your horse.”

  She stepped into the compartment, clipped the lead on Lyric. He resolutely kept his eyes off her cute little butt. Lyric was surprisingly obliging, not even trying to push past and escape.

  “Tie her to the ring in the stall and brush her. But don’t clean her hind feet. She kicks. Call me when you need help.”

  “Where will you be?” she asked.

  “With Hunter. I want to see what Slim’s talking about.”

  She nibbled at her lower lip, as though deep in thought. No sign of any icing, but her mouth had a really cute shape that made his thought careen.

  “So why would he be doing that?”

  “What?” He jerked his head up. Saw the question in her eyes and guiltily realized he had no idea what she’d just asked. Christ, maybe he really was an oversexed asshole.

  “Why would Slim look up Hunter’s nose with a flashlight?”

  “Probably to check if there’s mucous,” he muttered. “The smell means Hunter has an infection. I’ll take a look.”

  “Slim didn’t see me watching last night but it looked like it was a hard job, checking Hunter’s nose. Want me to help?”

  He didn’t often need help with a horse, and he definitely didn’t want her running back to Martha with crazy snot tales, but she looked so damn sweet. “Yeah, definitely.” He cleared his throat. “First, tie Lyric in the stall. Do you know how to tie a quick-release knot?”

  “Sure do.” She led Lyric toward the barn and he followed, permitting himself a quick sweep of her beautifully shaped butt. Rounder than most of the female riders but absolutely perfect for palming. He jammed his itchy hands in his pockets.

  “What’cha looking at, boss?” Stephanie called. “New filly on the grounds?”

  His mouth tightened. Becky and Lyric disappeared inside the barn and he yanked his gaze off the door and looked at Stephanie. “Just studying Lyric’s conformation,” he said. “Wondering why she tripped the other night. We trainers are paid to be observant.”

  Stephanie grimaced and opened her car door. “Yeah, tell me about it. My ex was
a trainer too. He studied a lot of conformation, not always equine.”

  “We trainers are often misunderstood.”

  “I’ve heard that before too.” Stephanie snorted. “Long hours, endless worry, fickle owners. Your ex didn’t even like racing. No wonder your marriage busted up.”

  He adjusted his hat, uneasy with the conversation. Laura’s cheating no longer left a sour taste but the fact that she lived in his family home certainly did. She’d always hated living in the country but now was too contrary to leave. A few wins though and he’d be able to pay her price. Buy it back. “I’ll be around tonight if you want to drop by and watch some replays or something,” he said.

  “Gosh, you’re a smooth talker.” Stephanie slipped into the car. Her car roared off as he walked into the barn.

  He walked down the cool aisle, pausing as Becky struggled to tie Lyric. He stepped into the stall and shortened the rope. “Should be shorter. And make sure you stick the end in the loop so she can’t undo the knot. She’s a smart one.” He patted the mare on the neck and headed down the aisle, his thoughts shifting to Hunter.

  The colt stuck his head over the stall, seeming in fine health, but when Dino buckled the halter, the smell of infection almost made him gag. “Damn,” he muttered as he slid his hand in Hunter’s mouth checking for sharp teeth. Nothing obvious. The smell seemed to come from the nose.

  Light footsteps sounded, and Becky peeked over the stall door. Maybe she could help after all.

  “There’s a rubber flashlight hanging by the tack room,” he said. “Can you grab it?”

  She nodded and rushed off. Hunter was unusually resistant, tossing his head and flattening his ears, and Dino led him further into the stall, trying to reassure him. Finally the colt let him touch his nostrils without fighting.

  Becky returned, wide-eyed, and passed him the light.

  The smell was stronger on the left and he used his finger to probe the nostril wider. “There might be some blockage,” he said over his shoulder, “but it’s hard to see. You’re a nurse. Is that snot?”

  She stepped closer. He tugged her to his side, afraid the colt might strike her. She seemed oblivious to the danger, her face rapt with concentration as she peered up. He kept his hand on her hip, ready to push her away if the colt reared. “I can reach up there,” she said and her little finger disappeared into the horse’s nose.

  Hunter flattened his ears but stood obligingly. They all stared as a chunk of yellow appeared between her index and middle fingers.

  “Unbefuckinglievable!”

  “What is it?” She stared at the object he’d pulled from her hand.

  “A goddamn sponge.” Anger shortened his words. “Poor horse. Running his guts out and unable to breathe. That explains a lot. Slim noticed the smell last night. Sponge must have caused the infection.”

  His mouth clenched. “Some asshole at Lone Star sponged my horse. I’ll increase security at the barn. Tell the state agency. But damn, that race can’t be rerun.”

  “Guess it’s a good thing Echo is shipping in on Saturday,” Becky said. “She won’t be around the track very long.”

  “Yes, that’s a very good thing,” he said.

  A horse clopped down the aisle and he glanced over the door. Cody, the head groom, accompanied by Slim, led a cooled-out Echo back to her stall. Slim saw their faces and hurried toward them.

  “You checked him out?” Slim asked. “Is it an abscess?’

  “No. Look what Becky pulled from his nose.”

  “Well, goddamn.” Slim fingered the stained sponge in disbelief. “I haven’t seen anything like this in years. Guess Hunter did pretty well, running on limited air. Echo is shipping in Saturday morning. Do you have good security?”

  “There’ll be a groom posted by her stall. No one will get to her.” Dino’s fists clenched as he fought a bitter sense of violation. “Guess I better tell Martha.”

  “Maybe not,” Becky said, sounding subdued. “This is so vindictive. I think it would upset her.”

  “But she needs to know why Hunter ran poorly.” Dino crossed his arms. “And I think it would strengthen her decision to keep racing.”

  “And I’m thinking of her health. So it’s best not to say anything.” Becky raised a stubborn chin and crossed her own arms, and he wondered why he’d ever thought her meek.

  “She’s right,” Slim said. “Guess it’s more important to think of Martha than to make a public excuse.”

  “I suppose,” Dino said slowly, not liking how the two had aligned against him. He also didn’t like the idea that he was the selfish one. “Is your horse groomed?” he asked abruptly, resigned to the fact that no one else would ever know why Hunter ran so badly.

  “I’m going to brush her now.” Becky lowered her arms, peering up at him with grateful eyes. “And I really appreciate you not saying anything to Martha. That’s big of you.”

  He gave a rueful shrug—he didn’t feel big at all—and he wasn’t sure if he was keeping his mouth shut for Martha. Or for Becky.

  ***

  A grin split Becky’s face. She stared between Lyric’s ears, trying to follow every one of Dino’s instructions. Sit up. Heels down. Shoulders back. Don’t hang on her mouth. The Western saddle felt bulky compared to an English saddle, but it was amazing how the mare moved forward with little leg pressure. It would be much easier to ride in a more familiar English saddle though.

  “There’s an English saddle kicking around in the tack room,” Dino said, as though reading her thoughts. “I’ll dig it out for next time.”

  His hip was propped against the rail, cowboy hat pulled low. He looked like her private Marlborough man, chewing on a piece of hay instead of a cigarette. And he was the nicest, easiest-going person she’d ever met. Amazing that only a week ago, she’d thought him intimidating.

  “This saddle is okay,” she said, unable to stop smiling. “Everything’s perfect.”

  “Must be boring though, going around in circles.” His grin was slightly wicked. “And you’re doing great. Time for a real ride.” He tossed away his piece of grass and headed for the barn. “I’ll grab Hank. Your smile tells me you have a need for speed.”

  “No,” she called quickly. “I don’t have that need.”

  But he’d already vanished into the barn.

  Her fingers tightened around the reins. She was confident riding in the paddock, but those open fields looked scary. The only trail riding she’d ever done was on an ancient gelding, and Lyric was a totally different animal than the bombproof camp horses.

  Minutes later, Dino led a rangy chestnut from the barn and smoothly stepped into the saddle. “Let’s go,” he said.

  “How do I get out?” she asked.

  “Either jump the fence or lean down and open the gate.”

  She eyed the imposing white fence. “Does this horse know how to jump?”

  “Probably not.” He chuckled. “The racetrack is pretty flat.”

  Becky tightened her mouth and guided Lyric to the gate then reached for the latch. But Lyric sidled away, and she only grabbed air. She turned Lyric and tried again. This time she touched the latch but couldn’t keep the mare from moving forward.

  “Use your leg to push her over and check her with the bit,” Dino said, still grinning but making no move to help.

  Gritting her teeth, Becky tightened the reins and bumped the mare with her leg. Lyric edged sideways. “Please don’t move,” she whispered, aware Dino was laughing and probably had never been entertained by such an inept rider. Even Slim hovered by the barn door, a half smile on his face. She stretched, lifted the latch and the gate suddenly swung open.

  “Yay!” Flushed with triumph, she waved an arm. The sudden gesture spooked Lyric who leaped forward, bouncing her from the saddle. She grabbed the mare’s mane and desperately hung on, frozen with fear. Then somehow Dino was beside her. He snagged a rein and brought Lyric to a plunging halt.

  “Good job with the gate,” he said, his eyes tw
inkling, “but best not to make sudden moves around horses, especially racehorses. Now get your butt back in the saddle, tighten that helmet and sit up.”

  He sounded so bossy, she considered giving him a salute but was rather grateful for his deft snag. Besides it seemed unwise to wave her arm again. “Isn’t it against the rules for you to ride without a helmet?” She raised an eyebrow at his cowboy hat.

  “I only take my hat off for special occasions,” he said. His deep smile was so intimate, heat rushed to her cheeks and it had little to do with the hot sun. She dipped her head, adjusting her reins, not sure if he was teasing or flirting. Men like Dino didn’t flirt—not with her—but there was definitely an undercurrent. Besides, she hadn’t asked him to hang around and go on a trail ride. He’d offered all by himself, and that fact alone left her buoyant.

  “There are some oak trees on that hill,” he added. “We’ll ride to the top. The view reminds me of my ranch.”

  He was clearly an accomplished rider and looked like an extension of his horse, completely relaxed even though Hank was obviously keen to run. She hoped he didn’t expect her to go too fast. Lyric was definitely happy to be out—the mare pulled impatiently at the bit, as though afraid Dino’s horse would get in front. Both horses flattened their ears, with Lyric even reaching over and trying to bite Hank, warning him not to pass.

  “Aw, hell.” Dino shook his head. “They’re warmed up and you look comfortable. Let’s just let them run.”

  “What do you mean?” Her voice rose an octave.

  He just grinned and eased into a canter. Lyric stopped fighting the bit and smoothly moved alongside Hank. And suddenly they were galloping.

  Becky’s heart shot into her throat but Dino was beside her, looking in complete control, and she remembered how easily he’d snagged Lyric. Besides, it all felt perfect. Wind whipped her face as the horses galloped up the hill, and her worries about falling off blew away.

  The hill was long and smooth and eventually Lyric’s stride slowed. Dino checked Hank so she tightened her own reins, and soon both horses were trotting and blowing with distinct satisfaction.