Becky crossed her arms, simmering with frustration as Martha fed Hunter a carrot. Slim’s statements were impossible to disprove. And maybe she had been wrong. She watched as the colt devoured the treat in four crunching bites—this was another horse who ate fast. Her breath quickened with fresh optimism. She knew how to prove Echo hadn’t been safe in her stall the night before the race.
Tomorrow she’d show Dino the horses’ different eating styles. Slim might be able to explain his association with Ted, but he certainly couldn’t explain carrots.
***
“They’re here!” Martha hung up the phone, voice shrill. Becky had never seen her so excited about a routine haircut.
“They? There’s more than one stylist?” Becky asked.
Martha stared in the mirror, absorbed with fluffing her thin hair. “I already told you, this is the same lady who cut Greta’s hair and she recommended some other services as well. So, of course, there’s two of them. Jocelyn is taking them to the yellow room now.”
The yellow room, with a nice bathroom and lots of natural light, was a long walk for Martha and not the usual place for her haircut. “Okay,” Becky said slowly. “Do you want to walk or take the wheelchair?”
“Wheelchair.”
It took ten minutes to navigate the long halls and reach the yellow room. Jocelyn stood by the door, her long face creased with curiosity. “Will you be wanting refreshments, Martha?” she asked.
“Sweet tea and sandwiches, please,” Martha said. “It’s going to be a long day.”
Becky pushed the wheelchair into the room, privately doubting Martha’s sparse hair would occupy any hairdresser very long. Even her regular perms didn’t last more than two hours. She paused, stunned by the appearance of the two waiting ladies, so different from Martha’s usual stylist.
The tiny brunette had a lip ring, belly shirt and purple streaks. Her statuesque friend looked like a Swedish playmate, one who’d just rushed from the centerfold of an exotic magazine and hadn’t had time to grab all her clothes.
Becky gulped back her concern. Martha placed a lot of stock in appearances. She wouldn’t be pleased, not one little bit. “Good morning,” Becky said politely, scrambling to fill the awkward silence.
“Becky, would you push me back outside for a moment.” Martha’s voice turned chilly.
Becky pulled the wheelchair back into the corridor and edged around Martha’s chair, trying to keep from laughing.
“Those…creatures can’t touch me. My heart wouldn’t take it. Purple hair!” Martha’s voice wobbled with outrage. “But their services have already been paid for, and I don’t want to be cheated.” She twisted her fingers in agitation.
Becky covered her hand, trying to soothe her. “I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well. It doesn’t matter if they’re already paid. Besides, they deserve something for making the house call.” And packing all that equipment couldn’t have been easy. She’d even spotted a massage table among their extensive supplies.
“Absolutely not,” Martha snapped. “People who dress like that don’t receive gifts from me. I can’t condone paying people for nothing. Charity turns them into beggars.”
Her voice rose and Becky flinched, positive the ladies would hear every hurtful word.
“And I’m going back in there to tell them,” Martha added.
“Shush, Martha,” Becky whispered. “They might look a bit different, but give them a chance. Greta always looked gorgeous, so they’re probably good at their job.”
“Indeed.” Martha leaned forward, her hand swooping over Becky’s wrist. “Then you go in for me. Have the services I paid for. Every single one. Otherwise, I insist on stating my mind.” Her voice quivered with emotion, but triumph blazed in those shrewd eyes.
Becky stiffened. “Is this your way of making me have a haircut?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Martha crossed her arms. “Just go in there. And don’t come out until they’re finished because they’re not touching me. Hurry along. Jocelyn can wheel me back.”
As if on cue, the door opened and the tall blonde tugged Becky into the room. “We have a lot to do so we can’t waste any more time. Sit.” She pushed Becky toward a high vinyl chair.
“It’s okay,” Becky said, slightly intimidated. “I’ll make sure you get paid. It doesn’t look like you’re needed today—”
“Oh, we’re definitely needed.” She studied Becky with open disapproval, squeezing her nails into Becky’s shoulders until she sank into the chair. A bib was locked around her neck amidst a flurry of arms and the smell of citrus and coconut.
Becky leaned forward, gripping the handles of the chair and eying the door.
“Don’t you dare move,” the blonde snapped, clamping a strong hand around her upper arm. And Becky, overpowered and outmaneuvered, didn’t.
***
Three hours later, Becky opened a cautious eye. “Is this almost over?”
“We’re running a bit late.” The blonde, who she now knew as Judy, clicked off the hair dryer. Even though Judy’s appearance was intimidating, she’d turned out to be the easier of the two.
Becky was certain Pam, the purple-haired girl, enjoyed inflicting pain. Eyebrow plucking, lash tinting, bikini line waxing—Pam had smiled at every one of Becky’s involuntary shrieks. At least the facial and manicure had been pleasurable, and the haircut relatively pain-free, although the mound of hair on the floor was frightening.
“Do people really pay for waxing?” Becky asked, tilting her head and trying to see herself in the mirror.
“Sit still.” Pam poked at Becky’s toes. “The nail polish is wet.”
“How long will I smell like this? Because horses won’t like—”
“Don’t talk, Becky,” Judy said. “Your head moves every time you speak.”
Becky closed her eyes, trying to be patient. But now she knew how Lyric felt when tied to the wall and groomed. Completely and utterly helpless. No wonder the mare lashed out when touched.
Maybe next time she wouldn’t tie her. Maybe the mare would behave better if she weren’t forced. And on their next ride, she was going to use an English saddle and lean forward, exactly like Martha said the jockeys did. She’d keep contact with Lyric’s mouth.
Yes, indeed. Next ride, she intended to find out exactly how fast that horse could run. Stephanie would have some valuable tips too. Dino wouldn’t have to hold Hank back again. In fact, he’d be very surprised.
He might be shocked at her smell too, she thought ruefully, as she fought a touch of nausea. Hopefully she wouldn’t reek like this when she went to Lone Star. Every product the girls used had a distinctive smell, and the combination was overwhelming.
“Okay, you’re done.” Pam lifted her arms, gesturing like she’d just completed a major overhaul. “You’re allowed to look now.”
Becky leaned forward and glanced in the round mirror Judy held. Stared, transfixed by her reflection.
Judy’s head dipped closer. “I layered it for a lighter look, but there’s still some length in back. And the highlights do wonders for your skin tone.”
“Did you put makeup on me too?” Becky’s words came out in a disbelieving whisper. She hardly recognized herself. Wow. She gulped, still staring.
“No,” Pam said. “I only tinted your lashes and shaped your bushy brows. That was one of the things you cried about.”
“I didn’t cry,” Becky said, too enthralled by her makeover to be indignant. “I look different. Almost like you two.”
“A little body piercing, some purple in your hair, and you’re pretty much there,” Pam said with a rare smile.
“So Martha arranged all this?” Becky clung to Judy’s hand, not yet ready for the mirror to be taken away. The face staring back at her was familiar but different too; she simply couldn’t believe it. She looked—nice.
Judy smiled. “Everything’s paid, including a generous tip, so be sure to give Mrs. Conrad our thanks. She certainly kno
ws what she wants.”
“She certainly does.” Becky swallowed, the words log-jamming in her throat. Dear, wonderful Martha. No one had ever done anything like this for her. She really was the kindest, most thoughtful, stubborn, generous lady.
And very manipulative.
She’d yanked Ted’s chain, calling Becky family, knowing it would annoy him. And now she’d coerced Becky into getting new clothes, new haircut, a new look. Not that it was a bad thing; Becky touched her hair, fascinated at how the layers emphasized her features. However, Martha would steamroll anyone, and it was probably best to pretend some annoyance. In a nice way, of course.
She lowered the mirror and grinned—grateful, happy and full of mischief. “Judy, do you have a temporary nose ring I can slip on and some washout highlights? Something in a really flashy color—maybe purple?”
***
“I hope you didn’t mind, dear, but something had to be done.” Martha smiled with grim satisfaction. “Come in and let me see. I was right, wasn’t I. You look lovely. Good gracious! What did they do to you?” Her satisfaction flipped to horror as Becky stepped further into the room.
“They said body piercing was the new thing. That everyone my age has it.” Becky’s hand drifted to her nose, checking that the ring still protruded. The lip and tongue studs were tight enough, but the nose ring had dropped off twice, just walking down the hall.
Martha’s mouth was still open but her face had turned plum red, displaying much more intense horror than Becky had anticipated. And that probably wasn’t very healthy. She hastily pulled off the rings and dropped them on the table.
“Actually body piercing isn’t my style,” she added, relieved when Martha’s color faded to a lighter shade of pink. “You might like this tattoo though; it’s a very heartfelt one.” She rolled her sleeve up.
A reluctant smile brightened Martha’s face. She reached up and traced the blue heart and the ‘I love Martha’ inscription. “I rather appreciate the thought,” she said, “but please tell me this tasteless tattoo and purple highlights aren’t permanent.” However, her smile remained locked on the tattoo.
“No, they’ll both wash off.” Becky grinned. “We were just having a little fun at the end of my unexpected, but much appreciated, beauty session.”
“You’re not annoyed?”
“Oh, Martha.” Becky wrapped her arms around her. “I never would have done this on my own but I’m so grateful. And strangely enough, not even scared.”
“Scared?”
“You know, of drawing attention.”
Martha’s reassuring squeeze was surprisingly strong. “Don’t mumble, dear. Just remember if you look good, you feel good. And if you feel good, there’s no limit to what you can do.”
“I do feel pretty good.” Becky gave a sheepish smile. “I checked every mirror in the hall. Terribly vain of me, but it’s amazing what a nice haircut can do.”
“Exactly,” Martha said. “I’ve always thought life’s more fun when you have a good cut.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Is it true?” Red asked, brushing Hunter with long, sure strokes. “Did some bastard really stick a sponge up this colt’s nose?”
Dino nodded grimly. The meeting with Slim yesterday had been less than satisfactory although Slim had delivered plausible explanations. It hadn’t been his actual words that strengthened Dino’s suspicions but more the man’s evasiveness when he spoke of the hot walker.
At least Hunter was at Lone Star now. No one could get to the colt here, not with a twenty-four hour guard. Now the only homebred left at Conrad’s was Echo, the filly that didn’t like to sleep in strange stalls—perfectly understandable, Becky would say.
And hadn’t she been jumping into his head with irritating persistence. It must have been that kiss, the way she’d felt in his arms. But he wasn’t what she needed or wanted, and his breath leaked with a sigh of regret.
“You want this guy out after the renovation break?” Red tossed the brush back in the grooming kit, jerking back Dino’s attention.
“Yeah, and get Chippy ready too. Becky’s coming to watch their gallops.” He glanced at his watch, hoping she’d show up early. Maybe stick around for lunch. There was a quiet restaurant around the corner where it would be easier to talk, although he’d have to pry her away from the track.
She definitely enjoyed the horses—unlike his ex-wife.
Laura had complained about every aspect of the job: every owner’s dinner, every sick horse, every disappointing race. She’d insisted he take vacations, always at the worst possible times. Trainers didn’t have a regular nine-to-five job, but she’d known that before they were married. Training was hard enough without an attention-starved woman. Unfortunately when he couldn’t give her what she needed, she’d looked elsewhere.
He didn’t want to think about Laura and switched his attention to the five impatient horses pawing in the aisle, groomed, tacked, ready to go. Grooms boosted exercise riders into the saddles, and his first set filed from the barn.
They walked toward the gap, accompanied by squeaking leather and the occasional clink of metal. The sun was warm and optimistic as it poked through the haze, the earthy smells refreshing. Six a.m. He never minded getting out of bed. Not for this. How could Laura possibly have resented this?
“Hey, boss. Saw you at The Corral last week,” Speck, an exercise rider, called. “If you get tired of those ladies hanging on your arm, send a few my way.”
“They’re not horses, Speck.” SueAnne, the feisty brunette, snickered. “You wouldn’t know what to do with a two-legged female.”
Speck grinned and stroked the neck of the gray mare he was riding. “Oh, I know what to do, SueAnne, darling. Same as a mare. Talk soft, ride them gentle, give lots of head.”
“That’s enough, kids.” Dino hid his smile, but he liked his riders relaxed and joking. Horses picked up on moods, and a happy horse was a better horse.
Grooms removed lead shanks and the horses moved along the outside rail, following his earlier instructions. Speck walked the gray on a relaxed rein. The mare was opinionated and liked to look around before going to work. The riders on the two bay colts asked them to trot immediately. The young horses needed action or else they bucked. Just last week one of his riders had been dumped, and the horse had been loose on the track for ten minutes—always a chilling event.
He’d scheduled the other two geldings to jog a lap then gallop a mile, but Shane could look after that and free up more of Dino’s time for Becky. Just in case she wanted to eat, look at horses or just talk by the rail.
He checked his watch again; he needed her phone number. Quite likely she wouldn’t arrive for another hour, which meant Hunter and Chippy would have to wait. Be nice if she came early though—easier on scheduling. Besides he was looking forward to seeing her.
He stared at the two colts, trying to focus, impatient with how his thoughts kept circling back to women. Both horses were moving well, trotting evenly. The gray mare was still walking, still looking around with her typical bossiness. Speck appeared to be dozing, but he was the most patient rider on the payroll, always willing to give animals plenty of time, unlike some riders who were forever in a rush. Horses sensed stuff like that, just like women.
He rubbed the tightness in his neck. Obviously he’d rushed Becky the other night, but she’d felt so ready. Until she’d leaped away in panic. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d so badly misjudged a woman. Of course, after his divorce, he’d always chosen the easy and available, trying to keep his mind off how he and Laura had screwed up their marriage.
Not that he was even thinking of Becky that way. God, no. Too many reasons to keep his distance—Martha being a big one, although she hadn’t seemed to mind when Greta and a few other nurses slipped down to his guest house. Still, Martha’s relationship with Becky was different, more like Becky was a niece, and he doubted Martha would approve of a horse trainer sleeping with her niece.
No,
he preferred a woman like the one Shane drooled over. Curved in all the right places, with the sexiest mouth ever. Just the way it moved made him harden, made him imagine it was Becky with those lips wrapped around—
His hands balled as he stared at that familiar mouth. Goddammit, it was Becky. And she was smiling at him. But she’d cut off her hair and now nothing hid those angelic features. Nothing hid those sexy lips. And she definitely shouldn’t be wearing those kinds of clothes—tiny tight jeans, clingy T-shirt, much like the other girls. But somehow on her they were harder to ignore.
No wonder Shane was standing on his head trying to keep her attention. And Shane really should hustle back to the shedrow now.
Dino set his jaw and stalked over. “Shane, you better go check on Hunter.”
“Sure, boss.” But Shane’s hopeful gaze didn’t leave Becky’s face. “Want to go back with me, Becky? Watch Mrs. Conrad’s horses get tacked up?”
“She’s staying with me.” At Dino’s snap, they both turned, Shane in confusion and Becky with a questioning smile. “We have some business to discuss,” he added. “You can bring over the next set. We’ll wait here.” His gaze settled on Becky. “I liked your hair when it was long.”
Her eyes shadowed.
“But it looks really nice now too,” he added quickly, crossing his arms. He just didn’t want staff distracted and Shane’s mind clearly hadn’t been on the horses. Not that it was impossible to work and think of sex at the same time—he did it a lot—but he didn’t want Shane similarly occupied. At least not occupied thinking about sex with Becky. My God, the idiot was still standing there. “Got a question, Shane?” he snapped.
“Want me to bring some coffee?” Shane asked.
Dino and Becky both nodded at the same time but it was clear whom Shane was worrying about. “All right. Two coffees, one with milk.” Shane sauntered away, his walk far too cocky for an assistant.
Becky watched Shane leave with obvious interest so Dino snagged her waist and tugged her back to the rail. “See that horse?” he asked.
Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) Page 87
