“Humph. Not until I know he’s treating you like a lady.”
“Then I might have to move up my time schedule a little.” Daisy gave Cassie a little smile.
“Shit.” Cassie turned and stomped into the tack room. Daisy laughed softly and walked back to her barn.
- o -
“Look what the cat drug in. Thought maybe you forgot the address of your office.”
Nick shot an exaggerated grimace at his partner and plant manager, Thomas Harrison. Bald as a billiard ball, with skin as dark as walnut and teeth as white as fresh snow, Tom matched Nick’s height but outweighed him by another fifty pounds. Not fat, just muscle. The man’s smile was infectious.
“Had to come by and make sure everyone wasn’t loafing. So how’s it going?” Nick moved through the lobby to his office and sat down at his desk. Harrison slouched on the leather couch.
“We’re on schedule. Should have two model X-Tens finished by the weekend and two T-Nines by the end of the following week.”
“Good. Our buyers don’t like to wait.”
“Anyone who can afford these high priced canoes isn’t used to waiting.” Harrison leaned back and smiled. “But maybe waiting would be good for them.”
“Right. How’s the experimental model coming?”
“Another three weeks or so. You going to test it out, or do you want me to line up somebody else?”
“No. I’ll do it.” Nick fiddled with a pencil. He’d always taken pride in testing each of the prototypes before giving the go-ahead to craft more of them for sale.
Manufacturing handmade precision canoes required a lot of time and labor. His business would never be high volume, but it would be top quality. That was why he’d be the first to take the experimental canoe to the Boundary Waters of Minnesota and paddle it through its paces.
Nick frowned at the circles and squares he’d been drawing on the notepad. It would seem odd being away from her for that long. He brightened. Maybe he should take her along.
“So who’s the woman?”
Nick slammed the pencil on the desk. “What?” He glared at his best friend.
Tom Harrison rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Come on, Nick, we’ve known each other since we were eighteen. You don’t get this way unless there’s a woman problem.”
“What way?”
“Ignoring your business. Ignoring your friends. You were like this before you asked Ashley to marry you, and then again when you were mulling over the divorce. It’s like you avoid everything else to focus on a woman that matters. For fifteen years you’ve been hot footing around with the ladies now and then, but you’ve been able to concentrate on business. Now look at you. You walk in here like a randy dog with his tail between his legs. So who is she? And when do I get to meet her?”
Nick raked fingers through his hair and stared blankly at his inquisitor. “How many times have I threatened to fire you?”
“Countless. Don’t matter. You won’t. We owe each other. Besides, I’m the best damn manager you’ll ever find.”
Nodding, Nick admitted, “That’s the truth. Do you ever wonder what might have happened between us if we hadn’t been thrown together in Special Forces?”
“This is old ground, Nick. You’re trying to avoid my question. We would’ve never met, and you know it. So who’s the damn woman?”
Nick balled a fist and examined his curled fingers. He loosened and flexed them. He blinked. “Her name is Daisy Matthews. She trains horses at Arlington Park.”
“Horses. You mean race horses?” Tom cocked his head. “You mean you’re getting into the ponies?”
“You remember Mike Barnes?”
Tom nodded. “Sure, he bought several of the last X-Tens and a half dozen T-Nines for some kind of resort he was buying in northern Wisconsin.”
“When it came time to pay, he didn’t have the cash. Instead, he talked me into accepting a race horse in payment.”
Tom shoved back and laughed. “You are such a soft touch, man. It’s amazing we make any profit. So the woman came with the horse?”
“Sort of. She’s quite attached to the mare. If I sold the animal, she’d lose the horse, too. There was something in her eyes that I saw. Don’t know. Anyway, I couldn’t sell the damn horse, so now I’m in the horse racing business.”
“And in her pants?”
“No, she’s too young. She can’t even be thirty.”
“Is she too young? Or are you too old?”
Nick glowered at him.
“Can’t be too old if you can still get it up. She can’t be too young if she’s over eighteen.”
“Harrison, sometimes you’re beyond explanation.” Nick folded his arms across his chest. “Willow is different. She’s had a tough life. She grew up on the streets, the best I can figure out, and has pulled herself up with a little help from others. Courage, man, she’s determined, and she’s got guts.”
“Sounds good. If what you say is true, she’s probably a hell of a lot more experienced than her age would suggest.”
Nick nodded. “No doubt about that. I wish she wouldn’t dress so provocatively. She must draw guys like fresh honey attracts bears.”
“Must be nice to look at.”
“Oh, yeah. Tall, willowy, strawberry blond hair, legs that go on forever, and nipples that pout as much as she does.”
“You sound hooked.”
Nick flinched. “Nah, she’s too young for an old guy like me.”
“Can’t get it up any more, huh? I’ve heard of a remedy or two.”
“Cut the bullshit. You know that’s not it.”
“Well, you’re not planning on marrying her, are you? So why should age matter this much?”
“Of course not. Why would I want to marry her?”
The phone rang and Nick grabbed it after one ring. He closed his eyes and breathed. It was a buyer checking on a delivery date. Who had he expected to call? During the past several weeks, she’d never once called him. He’d always called her. As he talked with the buyer, Nick watched Tom get up, wave and leave. Marriage? Not likely. Once was enough.
- o -
Holding the phone out away from her ear, Daisy cussed herself for not letting the answering machine take a message. But a call late at night often meant a problem at the stable.
“Every time you fuck up I lose money!”
Daisy shivered at Reggie’s rage. He must be on something. But then he always was.
“Well, what do you have to say for yourself, bitch? Five losers in a row. And I really laid on them heavy. After three winners last week, I thought you were hot.”
Screwing up her courage, Daisy replied, “You can’t count on horses winning. Too many things can go wrong.”
“Not if you get your facts right. I know how it is.”
Daisy winced at Reggie’s slurred words.
“Are you giving me bad information, bitch?”
“No, of course not.”
“You better not. If I ever found out you were...”
Withdrawing into a shell she knew well from her younger days, Daisy whispered, “I didn’t ask you to bet on those horses. Maybe you should stop betting.”
“No! You just give me some better tips. We’re depending on you. Maxine is depending on you. We’re the only family you got, bitch. Don’t forget it.”
She heard his phone slam, and then there was blessed quiet. Daisy hung up and grimaced. She’d continue trying, for Maxine’s sake, but there was no surefire way of guaranteeing winners.
Daisy rolled over and hugged Bear. Reggie would never be satisfied with sporadic winners. When would his patience snap? And then what?
- o -
“That’s a no-brainer.” Nick stretched his long legs out in front of him in Sam Gallagher’s shedrow office. Sam sat in his desk chair chewing on his unlit pipe. Daisy sprawled atop an upside-down empty feed bucket.
Sam nodded. “So where do you want to race?”
Daisy watched Nick. She’d come to know his moods fairl
y well during the past six weeks. She knew what his decision would be. They had a choice of running RainbowBlaze in a mid-level allowance race at Arlington, a low end stakes race at Iowa’s Prairie Meadows, or a similar race at Canterbury. The Canterbury purse was smallest, but money wouldn’t be the key for Nicholas Underwood. He’d want to take Rainbow to Minnesota to share his newest passion with his family.
“We’ll do Canterbury,” Nick said. “Shakopee is just a short drive from Saint Paul where my folks live. It’ll be good for them to see the Blaze. What do you think, kid?”
Daisy smiled in agreement. “Why not? It’ll give me an excuse to see some new country. It won’t be a long haul. Rainbow trailers well and should handle the trip fine.”
“When do we leave?”
“I’ll call ahead and take care of entry fees and stall arrangements,” Gallagher said, making a note on a large desk calendar. “It would be good to give the horse a day or two to acclimate. The race is next Sunday. That gives you a couple days to prepare before you have to pull out.”
“Ouch!” Daisy glared at herself in the full length closet door mirror. Why didn’t anyone write clear instructions any more?
She read the folded instructions for the fourth time. The wax was certainly hot enough. Burning skin attested to that.
“Okay, again,” she said, looking in the mirror. “Bend your knee and pull it towards your chest,” she read aloud. She sat on a towel in the chair she’d placed before the mirrors. Maybe looking at her reflection was confusing things. But how else could she see what she was doing?
In that now-familiar cramped position, she applied the wax. The roller seemed to turn more smoothly this time. She relaxed, a trifle. Maybe this would work, after all.
“Now comes the difficult part,” she mumbled, glancing over at the mirror. She’d never be a very good contortionist. “Okay, remember pull vertical, not parallel. Parallel hurts like hell.”
With a quick jerk of the wrist, Daisy pulled on the wax remover strip.
“Shit, shit, shit!” she shouted, hopping about on one foot. “Whoever wrote that this might tingle a little bit never tried it.” She glanced down at the removal strip and counted six hairs. “Damn! Nicholas Underwood, you’d better damn well appreciate what I’m doing.”
Daisy sat back down and examined herself. She looked like she had a rash of pimples in a most unusual place. She slumped back and closed her eyes. Was this really worth it?
A bikini line was supposed to be a simple thing to accomplish. She didn’t even own a bikini, but she loved the trim look of the women in the instructional videos. They looked sexy, and she wanted to look sexy. Hell, thousands if not millions of women had a bikini wax line. So what if it was painful? it was a small sacrifice to make.
She grabbed the box and went over the instructions again.
Half an hour later, perspiration poured off Daisy’s brow. She raised her head and looked in the mirror. She stood.
“Done. That’ll have to do. I can’t take any more.” The hairline looked quite fine, really. But where there had been hair before, now there were so many red bumps and ridges she looked like a war zone. She felt like a war zone. And women went through this every month or so? Whoever said women were the weaker sex?
Daisy groaned. She couldn’t go to him looking like this; he’d puke. Would he put his tongue down there? She sure hoped so. She watched as her fingers tested the red dots. They didn’t hurt as bad now. She admired the trim hair. It seemed to frame the target nicely, not that Nick wouldn’t know where to find what he was looking for.
But how long would she have to wait for her skin to clear up? A couple days? Two weeks? Certainly it would clear before she had to go through this procedure again.
They’d be staying at a hotel in Shakopee. Those red pimples had better be history by the time they got to Canterbury, or she was going to be one unhappy girl. She’d put too much planning into her coming out party not to come out.
Chapter Four
Daisy sat on the edge of the bed in her hotel suite fighting back tears; her skin remained red and prickly to the touch. No way could she implement her plan to become a woman tonight. She shrugged and scowled at herself in the mirror. She’d waited nearly twenty-one years; another day or two shouldn’t matter so much.
Glancing around the suite, she marveled at how some people lived. Nick had called it a small suite adjoining his identical suite. It was half the size of her apartment, and there was even a phone in the bathroom.
She was so inexperienced. She’d only been in motels when she was a child, and then only when her mother neglected to pay the rent. Those drab holes-in-the-wall weren’t even in the same universe as this.
In her wildest fantasies, she could not have dreamed of a better setting for her sexual initiation. The suites were luxurious, and by putting her imagination in overdrive she could even conjure up a bit of romance—though she knew romance was not at the center of what she and Nick were about.
Shrugging, she rose from the bed and continued getting ready. Good thing she’d brought along one nice dress; it was actually the only nice dress she owned.
Nick would be rapping on her door soon. They were going to the Orpheum to see A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to the Forum. Nick’s youngest sister, Angie, had a supporting role. His parents would also be there. Daisy shivered. She’d focused so much on her seduction of Nick, she’d forgotten that by coming to Canterbury she’d be involved with his family.
“Oh well,” she muttered. “They’re just people. And it’s not like we’re staying with them. Thank God.”
Two hours later Daisy sat on the first floor of the Orpheum trying to concentrate on the antics taking place on the stage. The play was great, but sitting with Nick’s family had turned out to be more unnerving than she’d anticipated. Angie Underwood was good. She was funny and had a body men must beg for. Nick had informed her that Angie was the nearly forgotten caboose of the family. She’d just celebrated her thirtieth birthday, and was the family’s somewhat eccentric artist.
His parents were reserved and welcoming, although clearly puzzled by her presence. Nick had introduced her as part owner of RainbowBlaze and the person responsible for the horse’s training. That seemed to suffice.
Nick’s father had given her a shy smile, but otherwise ignored her. Nick’s mother, Agnes, was more curious. Not too obvious, but obvious. Thankfully, there was little time for small talk before the play. She and Nick would have to leave right after the show in order to be at the track by sunup.
The Underwoods planned to attend Saturday’s race, and they had invited Nick and his friend to their home for Sunday dinner. Daisy drummed her fingers on the chair arm. She wasn’t looking forward to Sunday dinner, but that was a ways off. A lot could happen before then.
Nick covered her hand with his, stilling her fingers. He leaned over and whispered, “You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it. Everything will be fine.”
She pulled her hand out from under his, trying hard not to notice Agnes Underwood’s tiny smile. Daisy frowned. Why was the woman smiling? What had she made of that little byplay?
Daisy flinched at the tap on her shoulder.
“Thought you were going to join us in the box seats for the post parade,” Nick said.
“I can’t. I’m too nervous about Rainbow.” Daisy watched RainbowBlaze come on to the track for the seventh race post parade.
“She looks good out there, up on her toes and alert.”
Daisy glanced at Nick. “I don’t want to be rude, but I need to be alone right now. Make sure your family comes to the winner’s circle. I should be ready to rejoin you by the tenth. Depends on how long it takes Rainbow in the test barn.”
Nick grinned. By now he knew that winning horses were taken directly to the test barn to check them for illegal drugs. “You really think she’ll win.”
Glancing at the tote board in the infield, she said, “The bettors have her as the eight to five favorite. The
y respect her record and the fact that she shipped in from Arlington. She’ll win, barring bad luck.” Daisy grabbed her bare arms and bent over. “I can hardly wait.”
“I know the feeling. As far as my folks are concerned, there’ll be plenty of time with them tomorrow. They’ve got some kind of social function this evening so will probably leave right after this race. I better get back to them so they know about the photo.”
“Okay.” Daisy gave him a weak smile. “Don’t be late. They don’t wait around long for photos.”
Her eyes followed Nick until he disappeared in the crowd. Daisy turned around, rested her forehead on the fence rail and closed her eyes. Her anxiety wasn’t just about Rainbow. That morning her skin had finally appeared smooth and normal. This was going to be her day.
Some people preferred watching a race from high up in the stands and some by the rail. Daisy liked the rail because she had an up close and personal view of the horses straining to claim victory, she could hear the pounding of hooves, and at times dirt would even fly up and smack her in the face. At the rail, she wasn’t a bystander; she was a participant.
“All in,” she heard the announcer declare. And then the bell rang and the gates sprang open and the horses leaped out, each trying to get the jump on the others.
Daisy cheered silently when RainbowBlaze came from the seventh hole to settle in fourth position on the rail as the horses entered the clubhouse turn. The mare’s running style was that of a presser, which Daisy thought was the best approach for winning routes. Up the backstretch, RainbowBlaze advanced into second. She held that position, running just off the leader’s flank, until the eighth pole. Then with what appeared to be the easiest of moves, the mare lengthened her stride and raced on, leaving the rest of the field behind and crossing the finish line three lengths ahead of the closest pursuer.
Daisy clapped quietly. There had been little doubt about the end result. The bettors knew it, and she knew it. The Arlington shipper was the class of the field.
Willow Smoke (Riders Up Book 3) Page 6
