Backstretch Baby (17 page)

“He won’t mind either. Just be careful of his chains and guns.”

Ashley gave a sheepish smile. They both looked at Rick who was cooling out Stinger, stopping every second circle to offer the horse a sip of water.

The two had definitely hit it off. Stinger didn’t give him a speck of trouble. And both Miguel and Ashley were relieved to avoid handling the challenging horse.

“Is he ready for the caps tournament tonight?” Ashley asked, clearly trying to make amends. “I heard Camila’s boyfriend won last year. He used the gift certificate to buy her a pair of paddock boots.”

Eve pulled her gaze off Rick. “But Rick said Woody won last year.”

“Yes, but Camila’s boyfriend was Woody’s partner. They won two years in a row.”

“Where’s he now?”

“Back in Mexico.” Ashley edged away from the sudsy water pooling by Tizzy’s hooves. “They found drugs in his room. He didn’t have a green card so he left before he was charged.”

Eve grimaced. No wonder Camila rarely smiled. But at least Ashley was opening up to the Hispanic women. She’d stopped blaming them for all the barn’s problems and had even learned some Spanish. It would be nice to see the women this afternoon, hear the laughter of the children. Since Rick arrived, she’d been away in the afternoons. She didn’t know what his plans were for later that day, but she hoped it included relaxing by the barn.

Her gaze drifted back to the small walking ring. Rick seemed to sense her scrutiny and glanced over Stinger’s head. His smoldering smile left no doubt about what he wanted to do later.

She fumbled with the sweat scraper, surprisingly flustered, but happy. The day was much brighter with him in it. All her senses seemed on full alert. Even the soap smelled sweeter. Most certainly her breasts felt more sensitive.

Ashley caught Rick’s heated look. “I’ve never seen two people more obvious,” she grumbled. “Maybe Scott will pay Rick to go to Santa Anita. Then you’ll be able to see him longer.”

Eve’s pleasure drained. She scanned Ashley’s face, wondering if this was just another barb. Granted, the words were totally true. And maybe Rick routinely hooked up with women on his jobs. He clearly didn’t worry much about Scott’s rules.

She tossed the sweat scraper into the bucket. “Walk Tizzy around now,” she said, her voice crisp. “And you’re in charge of the five o’clock feeding instead of Miguel. He’ll have to stay late to massage Tizzy, so he needs some time off.”

Ashley gave such an agreeable nod, Eve decided she was being too thin-skinned. Of course she realized Scott was paying Rick. And whoever Rick slept with before was history. Besides, she wasn’t in the habit of asking nosy questions. It certainly didn’t bother her if he routinely picked up women. Or if the whispers about club orgies were true.

She jammed the water hose in a tight coil and tossed it beside the barn. No, she told herself, Rick’s past didn’t bother her at all.

It shouldn’t bother her… But somehow it did.

Rick twisted the kitchen faucet, staring through the RV window as yet another kid materialized. There must be at least fifteen of them now, from toddlers to five-year-olds, all playing tag and squealing and poking sticks in the sand. The mothers looked relaxed, crowded around Eve at the picnic table, their conversation flowing in rapid-fire Spanish.

He hadn’t realized the second sandpit had been created for children. It must have swallowed a big chunk of Eve’s limited funds, yet another example of her generosity. And while it was nice she’d created a welcoming place for the women, he sure wished it was somewhere else.

He concentrated on regulating his breathing, hating how his hand shook when he filled the pitcher. But deep breathing didn’t help the constriction in his chest. He swiped at his clammy forehead, accepting he couldn’t take this much longer. He’d been serving coffee and ice water, nodding at the women, all the while despising the artificial smile pasted on his face.

It had been impossible to look too long at the kids. Their innocent eyes and fragile little bodies made his gut churn. The shrinks claimed that when he let go of the guilt, the panic attacks would fade.

Clearly they’d been wrong.

*

Eve passed Juanita a black marker, smiling at the English version of the poster:
HAIRCUTS (FOR HUMANS) YOUR BARN, YOUR TIME, ONLY $9.00!

Opinions on the best price for a cut ranged from eight to twelve dollars, but after much discussion it was decided that most customers would leave the extra dollar in a tip, letting them offer a more competitive price.

Juanita gave Eve such a grateful smile it lit up the woman’s round face. “This is a good idea. Life is better since you came. We have more joy, more hope. This business will help our income, our families, everyone.”

“You could also offer massages,” Ashley said. “The horses get rubbed all the time. But grooms get sore too. I’d love for someone to rub my back.”

That started another round of conversation with Ashley in the middle, and everyone valiantly trying to stick to English. Even Camila nodded and grabbed the marker, keen to make another poster that included massages.

Eve rose from the table. She’d provided several ideas to earn extra money. But now her help was no longer needed. They were already making posters, in both English and Spanish, demonstrating a new confidence as well as a shrewd understanding of price points.

She removed a pointed stick from a toddler’s pudgy fingers and replaced it with a plastic scoop borrowed from the feed room. They desperately needed more toys. Barn utensils were only a temporary solution, and every day more children appeared, shyly clinging to their caregivers’ hands and then embracing the sand pit.

Perhaps if Tizzy finished in the money, she and Rick could drive down the road and find a cheap store. Most backstretch workers were limited, not only with funds and time, but also with transportation. If she could visit a mall, she could pick up some shovels and buckets, real children’s toys, instead of the bulky barn equipment.

And now that she was at a small track, away from Victoria and her stifling rules, she could bring Joey for a visit. Maybe he could even come after his weekend stay with Megan and Scott. Then it would only be nine days she wouldn’t see him instead of fourteen. It would be wonderful to have him close by while she worked, to be able to see him from the moment he woke.

She could introduce him to all the animals, help him build a sand castle, and even put him to bed every night. Best of all, she could let him sit on Tizzy’s back and share the joy of just how wonderful it was to ride a horse.

Certainly some details needed to be ironed out, like finding a good babysitter. But if Megan and Scott came to watch Stinger race on Sunday, they could drop off Joey then.

She pulled in an excited breath, flushed with gratitude. This could all work out beautifully. She also needed to thank Scott in person, for renting the RV and especially for sending Rick. There hadn’t been any more theft since he’d arrived. Victoria had pulled back her horns.

Rick was exactly what the barn needed. What she needed.

Her heart beat a little faster and she glanced toward the tinted windows of the RV. He was so thoughtful, making coffee for the women and having Miguel help bring over ice water for the children. But then he’d disappeared, joking that the men had to rest up: Miguel for his massage of Tizzy, and him for the caps tournament.

But it was almost three o’clock and while she’d seen Miguel head back to the dorms, she hadn’t seen Rick again, not since he’d carried over the last pitcher of ice water.

She walked toward the RV, automatically smoothing back her hair. The door opened as if he’d been waiting for her. He carried work gloves and wire, and a tool belt hung around his lean hips. The heavy belt tightened his shirt, flattening it against his ridged chest, and the impulse to touch him was overwhelming.

She stuck her hands in her pockets. “Moonlighting somewhere?” she teased.

“Going to plug those holes in the fence,” he said, not cracking a smile. “Just a stopgap until security brings in their regular contractor.”

“I see,” she said, a little disconcerted by his flat tone. But maybe he’d learned something this morning. He’d been lingering by the little tack trailer the entire time she was riding. “Did Woody say anything today?” she asked. “About Victoria?”

“He doesn’t think she has many friends here,” Rick said. “Apparently she wasn’t well liked. Mostly he talked about carbing it up for tonight.”

The little boy that was teething let out a cry and Rick’s gaze shot over her head. He seemed aloof. Like a man who’d picked up a woman the night before and now regretted it. But he’d been fine this morning, even grabbing a kiss when they’d been alone on the horse path.

She stepped back, confusion mingling with her hurt.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice almost rough. “To the hill.”

“Sure,” she said, relieved he wanted her company. “I’ve never walked beyond the trees. Do you think someone’s sneaking in from outside?”

“Not sure.” He took her hand and tugged her toward the east side of the woods, skirting the picnic tables. “But if the gaps are fixed, there’ll only be two ways to reach the barn, the horse path and the road. So I don’t want to wait for the contractor to fix it.”

She gave a good-natured shrug. Theft wasn’t a big concern anymore. No one would be foolish enough to sneak into a barn with an RV parked by the door, manned by someone as imposing as Rick. And while they were at the tournament tonight, Miguel would be giving Tizzy a massage. The horses would never be alone.

She waved at the women. But they didn’t even notice her departure. They were clustered around Ashley’s blond hair, their conversation a mixture of Spanish and English, punctuated with giggles and bawdy massage jokes. The posters would be funny, if nothing else. Hopefully the flyers wouldn’t be too suggestive, or security might order that they be removed. Although Ashley, who was so tight with the guards, could probably hang anything she wanted.

“They’re adding massage to the hair business,” Eve said, trying to keep up to Rick’s long strides. “Should be a good side business. Maybe in a few months it will develop into something more. Juanita’s cousin is amazing. Did you notice the haircut on the boy in the striped shirt—”

“The first hole is just over there,” Rick said, holding back a branch so it wouldn’t poke her in the face. “I’m not sure what’s on the other side, but there’s definitely a path. Looks like it was well used at some point.”

He was clearly focused on more important things than haircuts, and she glanced past him, searching for the hole. The break at the bottom of the fence didn’t look new. In fact, the steel mesh was curled with age, leaving a two-foot gap. Beyond, a narrow footpath cut through the field and disappeared over the hill.

“You think someone comes this way?” she asked. “Looking to steal tack?”

“Maybe.” Rick bent and tested the wire. “It’s loose. Anyone could fit through here.”

“I wonder where it goes,” she said, intrigued by the path leading over the ridge.

“Let’s find out.” He unbuckled his tool belt, dropped it on the ground and held up the mesh. “After you.”

“Okay,” she said gaily. “Maybe we’ll find my bridles. Or a cache of saddles.”

She slipped beneath the fence, then stopped and held up the bottom of the mesh, waiting for him to edge beneath the wire. Her gaze kept shooting toward the mystery hill, her imagination racing.

Maybe they’d find more than tack. Possibly even a stolen horse. Or maybe it would lead to a ring of thieves who collected Thoroughbreds capable of winning stakes races, or Kentucky Derbies, or even the Triple Crown. She’d read every Dick Francis mystery, and things like that always happened in England. It
could
happen here.

“Maybe we should have weapons,” she said. “Maybe take a wrench or something. Or I can use that pointed rock over there—”

“Maybe,” he said, rising and pulling her into his arms, “you should just stick close.”

He tucked her head against his chest, and she could feel the thud of his heart, and it was clear that whatever had been distracting him earlier was no longer a factor. He certainly didn’t feel like a man who wished he hadn’t made love to a woman. No doubt she’d let Ashley’s comments stir up her uncertainty, something she wouldn’t let happen again. Mind games didn’t interest her. And she sensed Rick wasn’t into them much either.

“I don’t mind sticking close,” she whispered. “For as long as you’re around.”

His arms tightened. He seemed to have forgotten all about climbing the hill and checking for thieves. “Maybe when this meet is over,” he said, inching back and studying her face, “I could ask Scott for work closer to Santa Anita.”

She gave a little nod, too stunned to speak. She’d feared he regretted sleeping with her. But now he was talking about moving so they’d be closer. This relationship might last a lot longer than she’d dared to hope.

She nodded again, much more emphatically. “That would be great.” Then she tilted her head, her initial happiness dampened with worry. “But do you need to stay somewhere small? Should we avoid the city? Is there a gang looking for you?”

“No.” His chuckle was slightly rueful. “But I appreciate your courage. And that it wouldn’t scare you away.”

“So you were just in a riding club?” she asked. “Nothing illegal…lately?” She didn’t want to ask details about his prison sentence. Would save that question for another time.

He skimmed her cheek with his thumb, his eyes tender. “I worked different types of undercover. But it’s been almost two years since I rode with a motorcycle club. I came here directly from a job with Scott, tying up some loose ends. Some of that work was south of the border, a cartel case. It’s over now.”

“But when did you do the biker job? You only worked with Scott for a year. And you don’t have a full PI license.”

He hesitated and his tanned throat rippled. “I was with LAPD for nine years.” He spoke so low she could barely hear. “Gang and Narcotics for three.”