Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (109 page)

She shrugged, but her face was tucked into his shoulder and he couldn’t read her expression. He slid his hand beneath her hair, using his thumb to massage the base of her neck, sensing she was close to some sort of confidence. “Why’s that, honey?”

“I’ve only had one boyfriend. He…understood things.”

“And I wouldn’t?”

She raised her head, eyes wide and vulnerable. “We were together a long time. Three years.”

He nodded, waiting for more, but she pulled away and scrambled to her feet. “I have to go.”

“Okay.” He reluctantly rose to his feet. Lifted his arm to hug her but her wary eyes reminded him too much of a deer poised for flight, so he jammed it back to his side, oddly uncertain. “I’ll be around, you know.” He cleared his throat. “If you need anything. Anything at all.”

Chapter Seventeen

Becky cracked her eyes open and stared at the clock, fighting a lingering reluctance to wake. Last night’s events ran in a relentless replay, and she groaned. Dino, Slim, Ted—none of it good.

She’d knocked on Dino’s door, dressed in strange black clothes. He must have guessed she was spying, trying to check out his most recent woman. And she’d pretty much jumped his bones when he kissed her. But gosh he’d been a marvelous kisser. She allowed herself a sinful shiver of pleasure.

Luckily her naked phobia had prevented a disaster. She’d hate to join the ranks of his pillow friends. Knew her pain would be unbearable if she saw him with someone else. It would have made working together achingly hard.

Even now things would be uncomfortable. She squeezed her eyes shut, analyzing every gesture, every comment from last night. He’d assumed she’d come to spy on Slim, so that was some relief.

And the kiss had been a mutual thing. To Dino, sex was like shaking hands, not a big deal. So maybe he didn’t know she was infatuated. At least he’d promised to speak to Slim.

But that was a thorny issue too. Accusing Slim of switching horses was a serious charge. Yet she believed he was doing something shady, and her chilling sense of danger when she’d watched from the dark had been bone deep. And real.

She hoped Dino would be tactful. It was seven-thirty now so their meeting might already be finished. She thrust the covers back and scrambled from the bed. Dino would probably call if Slim admitted anything.

She showered, dressed and hurried to Martha’s sitting room.

“Martha is awake and full of energy,” Deb said with a yawn. “She’s making a list of things to do. Want me hang around?”

“No, I’ll be here all morning.” Becky gave an involuntary shudder. No way was she going to the barn today, not until she knew what was going on with Slim…and not until she was sure Dino was gone. She slipped into Martha’s bedroom.

“Oh, hello, dear.” Martha gave a preoccupied smile as she jotted something on a sheet of writing paper. “The hairdresser is coming today. I’m trying out a new girl. Same one Greta used. If there’s time, she might be able to squeeze you in.”

“No, thanks,” Becky said. “The great thing about long hair is that there’s no need for regular cuts.”

“I see.” Martha nodded, scratching another notation on her list. “I also want to drive down to the barn and see Hunter before he’s shipped to Lone Star. Tell me though, why is Dino using an outside shipper when we have a perfectly good trailer?”

Because Dino doesn’t trust Slim
. Becky stared at Martha’s bent head, so small, so fragile, and prayed Dino would be able to sort things out. Martha would be devastated if she discovered Slim had been disloyal, would take it as a personal betrayal.

“Slim’s probably busy,” Becky said, “and Dino wants to ship today so Hunter can train on the track.”

“But it’s part of Slim’s job to ship.” Martha frowned over her glasses. “It also gives him some variety. Malcolm always worried about Slim. He doesn’t have many friends.”

Becky busied herself, straightening the row of medication. “Maybe Slim and Ted are friends?”

“No. Ted has no interest in visiting the barn or the horses. I don’t expect to see him soon either. He may phone though, wondering how I’m doing.”

Becky’s hand tightened over a container, but she kept her tone casual. “Martha, do you remember Ted’s phone number?”

“Of course not. I rarely call him. But Jocelyn would have it. She talks to him all the time.” Martha’s eyes twinkled. “She said you were in Malcolm’s study trying to pry open a private drawer. Was quite indignant about the whole thing. Why didn’t you ask me for the key?”

“Didn’t know I needed one. Lyric’s file wasn’t with the others, and the only place I couldn’t check was the bottom drawer.” Becky gestured over her shoulder. “Lyric’s pictures are still in the baby box.”

“It’s doubtful the missing file is in Malcolm’s drawer, but the key is kept in my jewelry box.” Martha’s voice turned fretful. “I do hope that file isn’t lost. It’s difficult to obtain replacement papers. The Jockey Club is very strict about that sort of thing.”

“I’ll check again when you’re having your hair done,” Becky said.

“We’ll see.” Martha’s voice firmed. “But I would like you with me when the hairdresser comes. She’s new and…well, I might not be comfortable.”

“I’ve never seen you uncomfortable with anyone. But I’ll stay if you want.”

“Very good.” Martha nodded with satisfaction. “Now let’s have breakfast and then we can drive down to the barn and see Hunter before he leaves. Dino said the shipper was coming at nine.”

Becky’s head jerked up. “You talked to him?”

“I was busy, but he left a message with Jocelyn.”

“What did he say? Did she write it down?” At Martha’s narrowed gaze, Becky paused. “I’m just wondering if he entered Echo for Friday,” she added weakly.

“Yes. He did enter the filly. He also suggested you come to Lone Star tomorrow and watch Hunter gallop. Of course,” Martha added, “you don’t
have
to go. Lone Star is a bit of a drive, and I’ve been asking you to do a lot of work with the horses.”

“Oh, no,” Becky said quickly. “That’s fine. I want to go—” She quit protesting when she caught Martha’s knowing smile.

***

“We have to be back by eleven.” Martha stared at the barn as Becky parked the car beside Slim’s truck. “I don’t want to miss my hair appointment.”

Becky nodded and pried her damp hands off the steering wheel, grateful Martha was with her. This would be her first encounter with Slim since Dino had confronted him with questions about hot walkers and the ‘horse’ called Ebac. It was bound to be awkward.

They headed toward the yawning door. “Slim is probably getting Hunter ready,” Martha said, oblivious to Becky’s nervousness.

A gray horse emerged from the barn and pranced past them. “Hello ladies,” Stephanie called from his back. “Going to ride with me today, Becky?”

“How about Wednesday?”

“Sure. I have more time this week with Chippy gone and Hunter leaving.” Stephanie motioned with her head as she guided her horse toward the training track. “Slim’s in the barn wrapping Hunter. He’s not in a great mood.”

“Hunter or Slim?” Becky asked but Stephanie only laughed as if the question was a joke.

They entered the barn, blinking as their eyes adjusted to the light. Martha’s grip on Becky’s arm loosened, and she straightened and walked unaided toward Hunter’s stall. Becky squared her own shoulders, determined to banish her guilt. After all,
she
hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Hello, Slim.” Martha stared over the stall door to where Hunter was tied to the wall. The colt stood with an air of resignation as Slim wrapped one last hind leg. “How’s our boy?”

“Feeling good.” But Slim’s gaze shot to Becky, and she recoiled at the venom in his eyes. He rose and walked toward them. “I met your nephew last night, Miz Martha. He dropped off some horse papers that belonged to Malcolm.”

Becky’s breath caught and she stared at the neatly wrapped legs, each one a perfect stovepipe pattern. No doubt about it, Slim was good at bandaging horses. Pretty good at making up stories too.

“How was your meeting with Dino?” She forced herself to speak up, to talk as confidently as Martha always did. “I had a few questions, a few concerns. Was everything cleared up?”

Slim nodded grudgingly and stepped from the stall. “Everything’s fine now.”

Becky tugged at her lip. Maybe Dino hadn’t asked about the hot walker. She would see him tomorrow and could hear all the details then. Best not to say anything else. Best to avoid conflict.

“Did you discuss the horse on the hot walker?” she heard herself ask.

Slim’s head shot around. “I told Dino, like I told you, a horse was colicy. And there’s no horse here called Ebac. I was checking cheap bedding on eBay, trying to save everyone money. Now, I hear a truck and trailer outside. Miz Martha, do you want to give your colt a treat before he leaves?”

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.