Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (105 page)

Becky admired each picture Martha passed but lingered over one of a black foal with white hair around its muzzle. Such a beautiful, elegant head. “This baby has a head like Lyric,” she said slowly.

“That
is
Lyric,” Martha said. “Born dark but grayed out at six months. She was Malcolm’s first stakes winner. Won over a million dollars.”

Becky leaned forward, studying the pictures, smiling as the wobbly-legged foal turned into an elegant filly posed in the winner’s circle. “Who’s on her?” she asked.

“That’s Jill, Slim’s daughter.” Martha frowned, the grooves in her forehead deepening. “She loved that horse. Can’t remember why, but our first call jockey refused to ride so Jill became Lyric’s regular rider. Malcolm made all those types of decisions. He was excellent at motivating people.”

Becky paused, still holding the picture, remembering Slim’s comment. “Does Dino get a bonus based on wins, or is it a bonus paid on earnings?”

“Can’t remember. Our accountant looks after it. But the contracts are in Malcolm’s desk, and those race pictures should be added to Lyric’s file. Malcolm kept everything but the foal pictures there.” She fingered an elegant silver necklace, her voice lowering. “Now tell me, what really happened with the scratch yesterday? I had an odd call from Slim. He’s questioning Dino’s judgment. Doesn’t think Hunter should be shipped to Lone Star and didn’t agree with the scratch.”

“He called you?” Becky stiffened. The doctors had been adamant that Martha not be involved with management problems.

“Don’t look so worried. I told him to talk to you or Dino. But for twenty years, Slim was Malcolm’s right-hand man. I want to keep him happy.”

“Right.” Becky took a deep breath. “I don’t know much about sick horses but I think Dino was right. And Slim has been acting a little odd.”

“But what was wrong with Echo. What did you see?”

“She was lying down. Not interested in anything. Really tired.”

“Then Dino was right to scratch. That’s not Echo’s personality, not at all, although it’s inconvenient that Slim and Dino are arguing. You’ll have to sort them out, dear. I don’t want to lose either of them.” She sighed. “Men can be such little boys. Always trying to prove who has the biggest equipment.”

Becky’s shocked snort changed to a giggle. Sometimes Martha said the most surprising things. Clearly she was feeling better.

“And tell me, what did Dino think of your new dress?” Martha added with a curious gleam in her eyes.

“I didn’t have time to change,” Becky admitted, still laughing. “But I’ll definitely wear it for the next race.”

“You should have a haircut too. Change your look. Show off more of that pretty face.”

Becky patted Martha’s hand, distracting her with a ripe piece of cantaloupe. Lately Martha was always nagging about her appearance, but Becky liked her hair long. She certainly wasn’t delusional enough to think a haircut could change her looks.

Later that morning, she drove down to the training barn, full of coffee, cantaloupe and Martha’s advice.
Keep Slim happy but remember Dino is the boss. Make them feel appreciated. Men are easier to handle when they’re happy
.

She parked the car by Slim’s truck, wishing Martha hadn’t been quite so adamant about keeping Slim happy. Dino, well he was totally different. She gave a shivery sigh just remembering how
he
made her feel. On impulse, she slipped her hair in a ponytail and grabbed her ‘Cold Suds, Hot Fillies’ cap. It had been good luck at the track yesterday, and he had constantly tugged at its brim.

And even though she’d overheard him tell Slim they had to be nice to her—and that had definitely hurt—she still enjoyed his company. He made her feel special. Of course, he made a lot of people feel special.

Sobering, she walked into the barn, determined to represent Martha as best she could.

“Good morning,” Slim said, glancing up from his clipboard. “Did you talk to the old lady? Did you tell her that filly shouldn’t have been scratched?”

She controlled a flash of anger. Two grooms cleaned stalls at the far end of the aisle, too far away to hear, but their presence was comforting. She knew Slim wouldn’t be happy with what she had to say.

“Actually, Echo did seem tired yesterday.” She kept her voice level. “So I feel Dino’s decision to scratch was the right one. And
that’s
what I told Martha.”

Slim’s face twisted, and he tossed the clipboard against a bale of hay. A blue pen rattled and rolled several feet before lodging against the planked wall. She forced herself to focus on his forehead, fought her urge to back up.

“Dino’s using you.” Slim’s sneer turned ugly. “He already has Stephanie eating from his hand—or should I say, from his pants.”

“That’s enough!” she snapped, surprised by the whip in her voice. “While Mrs. Conrad appreciates your long years of service, Dino is the boss. If you like your job, you need an attitude adjustment. If you want a day off to think about things, go home now. We can reschedule your meeting with Dino for another day.”

“So that’s the way it’s going to be. Typical Conrad loyalty. I should have known.” Cursing, he jerked out the door. Seconds later his truck roared down the driveway.

Becky sagged. This hadn’t gone well. She wasn’t even sure if he’d be back. ‘Keep Slim happy,’ Martha had said, but he hadn’t looked at all happy. She prayed the tossing of his precious clipboard wasn’t symbolic.

She picked up the pen and clipboard, swiping off pieces of hay as she scanned the morning sheet. All the horses had been exercised, all except Echo who had been on the hot walker for forty minutes. Maybe that was what you did with a horse following a race, although Echo hadn’t actually run.

She flipped through the pages, absently clicking the pen as she scanned previous notations. Everything was organized. No wonder Martha wanted to keep Slim. Each horse’s day was noted in detail—how they ate, what they ate, how long they were out of their stall. Even the times she rode Lyric had been recorded, and she was pleasantly surprised to see she now recognized every horse’s name.

All except Ebac.

She paused, tapping the name with her pen. That horse she didn’t recognize at all. Stephanie hadn’t been galloping him. He’d only been exercised in the hot walker so maybe he was coming off an injury or else was very green.

She walked down the aisle, scanning the brass signs at the front of each stall. The registered name was shown first, followed by the barn name, but there was no sign for any horse called Ebac.

She paused by Hunter. His nose was clear now, the rotten smell gone. She slid her finger along Slim’s clipboard until she found Hunter’s name. Dino had requested the horse be shipped to Lone Star on Monday—not with Slim but with an outside shipper, and the arrangements were clearly noted. If Slim did quit, his records would certainly be invaluable.

She glanced at her watch as a diesel truck roared up the driveway. Must be Dino although he’d said the meeting was at eleven and it was only ten thirty. She dropped the clipboard on the hay bale and walked toward the entrance, trying to control her big smile.

Slim appeared in the doorway. “Sorry,” he said. “I was out of line earlier. I will take the day off though. Be back tomorrow.” He gathered the clipboard then paused. “Stephanie’s not my daughter but she’s had her share of men problems. Maybe there should be some rules about that.” He tipped his hat and walked out.

Becky stared, swept with relief. Slim was staying. He was even interested enough to worry about Stephanie and suggest new rules. Martha would be delighted.

She collected Lyric’s grooming kit, tied the mare in her stall and even hummed as she brushed the horse.

Lyric’s coat was spotless and gleaming when a truck sounded in the driveway. Had to be Dino. She adjusted her cap, swiped a piece of hay off the front of her shirt and walked to the front of the stall.

A wave of electricity always accompanied him and she was certain every horse felt it too, at least the mares. They thrust keen heads over their doors, watching Dino stride down the aisle.

“Morning, Becky,” he called. “Where’s Slim?”

He was definitely in a businesslike mood, and she barely had time to admire how his brown cowboy hat exactly matched his eyes. “He’s decided to take the day off,” she said.

Dino’s eyes narrowed. “Martha’s idea? Keep us apart for a bit?”

Becky shrugged and reached for a hoof pick. “She doesn’t want to lose Slim. He was handpicked by Malcolm. And basically this entire business is about her husband.”

Dino opened the door and pried the pick from her hand. “Lyric’s a nasty kicker.” His voice softened. “Let me clean her feet.”

Becky stepped back, wondering if she’d ever get used to his touch. Yesterday, his hand had been on her hip or elbow a lot, especially in the crowd, but it still made her turn all soft inside. He was naturally chivalrous with women but maybe he liked her—just a bit.

He ran his hand down Lyric’s left hind. She flattened her tail, threatening to kick. He swatted her on the rump, and she obediently lifted her leg.

“I don’t want to lose Slim either,” Dino said, moving around the mare and cleaning the right hind. “But he has to shape up.”

“Martha wants to keep him. Even though he’s been grumpy lately.”

“Grumpy is okay. Incompetence and disrespect are not.”

“I think he’ll be much better tomorrow.”

Dino walked closer and grabbed her hand, sending tingles through her body. His eyes locked on hers, and she couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to. My God, he was holding her hand.

“I appreciate your efforts and know you worry about Martha.” His expression was inscrutable. “But this is a business and everyone is expendable. Everyone.”

He released her hand and stepped back, and she saw that he’d merely placed the hoof pick between her fingers. Heat flamed her face and she turned, adjusting Lyric’s halter and scolding herself for being naïve. Just because he’d been attentive yesterday, didn’t mean a thing. “I think Slim might be a little bothered about your relationship with Stephanie.” She cleared her throat. “I think he worries about her.”

“Slim said that?” Dino’s voice was clipped.

“In a roundabout way.”

“All right.”

The stall door shut and she heard his steps as he strode down the aisle. His expression had been unreadable. Maybe he wouldn’t give up Stephanie but Slim was right. It must be hard on her. How could it not? Sharing Dino would hurt anyone. Most certainly it would affect your work. And Becky was trying very hard to be objective.

Lyric turned and sniffed her chest as though concerned by her stillness. She realized she’d been gripping her mane for the past two minutes and the mare hadn’t even tried to kick. “Good girl,” she whispered. “You ready for a paddock ride?”

“How about a trail ride instead?”

She let go of Lyric’s neck and jerked around.

Dino leaned over the stall door, his smile wary. “You’re right. I just called Slim. He’s resentful about Steph. And I apologized for messing with the staff.” He reached over the stall door and tugged Becky’s cap, his voice gruff. “Steph and I haven’t been together for a while. But it won’t happen again.” He cleared his throat. “So, do you want to ride with me or what?”

Becky stared. She knew Stephanie had been with Dino last week, had heard them talking. But maybe that was ‘a while’ to a guy like him. Lyric nuzzled her shoulder, jarring her out of her daze, and she managed a quick nod— along with a silent thanks to Slim.

***

Lyric stumbled on the grassy hill yet Becky’s shapely butt didn’t bounce from the saddle. “Good job,” Dino said, slowing Hank to a more sedate walk. “You have a nice seat. Tough to sit straight when a horse trips.”

“It’s not so hard when we’re walking.” Becky smiled. “I’d hate to have her stumble at a trot.”

“That’s why I get rid of stumblers.” He studied the mare. Her toes didn’t look overly long, and Slim was always meticulous about farrier visits. “Do you know what horse Slim’s daughter was riding when she had her accident?”

“Lyric,” Becky said, and it was clear her quick brain was whirring beneath the helmet and mop of hair. “Martha said their first-call jockey refused the ride. Isn’t that strange? To turn down a horse who’s won over a million dollars?”

“It’s unusual.” He yanked his gaze off her mouth, trying to concentrate on Lyric’s feet. He wasn’t sure when Becky had turned so attractive but he’d never been as aware of a woman’s femininity. A hundred things to do today, and here he was ambling around a field, oddly content. “Lots of horses get lazy at a walk,” he added. “Probably that’s Lyric’s problem.”

“Then we should go faster,” Becky said.

“Okay.” He grinned. “You want to race Hank and I up that hill? Winner gets first pick of the granola bars.”

“Do you have any with chocolate?”

“One chocolate and one with oats and bran,” he said, not wanting to admit he’d stopped at three gas stations looking for chocolate.

Her eyes narrowed. “Is Hank a racehorse or a pony horse?”

Her competitive instincts made him grin. “Hank raced a long time ago but only in cheap claimers. Now he just escorts other horses. A horse like Lyric should have no problem beating him.”

“All right, let’s race.”

She grinned and charged off, trying to sneak a head start. Hank immediately leaped forward, but Dino checked him, making sure Lyric had a good lead. He didn’t want Becky galloping too fast—it was clear she wanted to win. The girl was as competitive as any jockey. She just didn’t know it.

Hank pulled at the bit, protesting Dino’s hold, but the gelding was used to restraint and soon settled into a slow gallop, still ten feet behind Lyric as they topped the hill. Becky wasn’t a race rider and he could have passed her any time. But when he saw her sparkling face, he was glad he’d let her win. She turned Lyric in a triumphant lap, her cheeks flushed with victory.

“We won!” she called. “Now let’s see those bars.” She scoffed at the first one he held up. “That looks like the health bars Martha eats. Lyric might like it though.”

The second granola bar made her smile, and he flipped it to her. “The chocolate is a little melted, but it should be okay. You can have a beer back at my place and wash away the crumbs.” He didn’t know where his impulsive invitation came from—he had plenty of work to do back at Lone Star—but when she tugged at her lower lip, it was clear she was gathering some sort of excuse. “I want to enter Echo in an allowance race next weekend,” he added quickly. “We can check the condition book.”