Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (136 page)
Read Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) Online
Authors: Bev Pettersen
“Leaving early?” He glanced at his watch, his flattened mouth wiping away any hint of previous amusement.
“Yes, but Wally doesn’t mind.”
“Nice of him.”
His tone was definitely disapproving, and she crossed her arms. “Not much sense hanging around if the work’s done.”
“If it’s done.” He glanced at a wheelbarrow abandoned in the aisle, still brimming with manure. A blue pitchfork rested haphazardly against the wooden handles.
“That’s not my job,” she said, surprised by the defensiveness in her voice. “I’m the masseuse.”
“A
masseuse?
Of course.” His dark eyes flickered over her in a thoroughly masculine assessment, nothing lecherous, just simple approval that made her pulse kick. She swallowed, realizing she’d been very wrong. The gallop girls would definitely notice this guy.
“We’re one of the top therapy centers in West Virginia. Massage, hydrotherapy and oxygen chambers…for horses,” she added, just in case he was a bit dense. The gorgeous ones usually were. “Are you with the construction crew?”
“No.”
“Looking for a job then?” she asked. “Because Three Brooks is a great place to work.” She didn’t usually babble, but his sparseness with words was rather unnerving. “Wally’s nice, easy-going.”
“Obviously.” His gaze flickered down the dirty aisle.
Her mouth tightened with resentment. Wally wasn’t the most organized manager, but he was a family friend and genuinely loved the horses. And while it was okay for her to criticize, it wasn’t acceptable for outsiders.
This man reeked of disapproval and probably wouldn’t be good with animals either. Compassion could usually be sensed, and there was nothing coming from him now but sheer, autocratic authority—something that always bugged her. Worse, he was a cold ass, and those were the most dangerous of men.
She hoped Wally didn’t like him either. In fact, maybe she could help with that.
Beaming a magnanimous smile, she unzipped her pack and groped for her keys. “Since you’re in such a rush, I’ll let you go first. I should take this stuff to my car anyway. But don’t wait by the door. Wally likes visitors to knock, then walk right in.”
“Really?” His eyebrow arched and his gaze bore into her.
Clearly he wasn’t quite as gullible as she’d hoped, and the force of those laser eyes sent her into an unexpected fumble. Her hand jerked, knocking her pack sideways, and company supplements scattered across the floor.
Shit
.
She rammed the plastic bags back into her pack, annoyed that her hand shook. Wally wanted this trade-off kept under wraps. At least no staff was around, only this construction guy, and he wouldn’t have a clue about horse dewormers. She peeked up, her breath flattening at his suddden stillness. It was obvious he was quite capable of drawing his own conclusions.
“What’s your name,” he asked, so quietly she wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. Which was perfect as it was probably not a good idea to give her name.
“Could you help me with this please?” Her mind scrambled as she reached for a plausible excuse. “These supplements are past the expiry date. We’re clearing out the supply room, getting ready for a big inventory, new owners…never mind. I have them.”
She jammed the last bag in her pack and hoisted it up. Was so eager to escape she forgot her sore shoulder and winced at the stabbing pain.
An arm flashed. The weight disappeared. “You shouldn’t be carrying around something this heavy,” he said, tossing the bag over his shoulder with careless strength.
“It’s okay. I’m fine.” She glanced longingly at the door. “Really.”
“Show me your car.”
His expression was unreadable. Maybe he
had
swallowed her story of expired supplements. Best to humor him. Let a man help a little, and their protective instincts always kicked in. Use what you got, her father had always said.
She’d pick up her money tomorrow. Em would have it by Friday. Not a big deal, just a slight change in plans.
“This is so nice of you.” She rubbed her shoulder, pretending simple gratitude as she accompanied him down the aisle. “My arm is rather sore.”
“Shouldn’t stuff it so full…while on the job.”
She shot him a suspicious peek but his expression was unreadable, so she nodded as though he’d just imparted valuable words of wisdom. “You’re absolutely right.” She beamed another flattering smile. “Lucky for me you came along.”
He opened the door, pausing to let her pass, but the corner of his mouth twitched again so she quit talking. Despite his solemn expression, she’d almost swear he was laughing. Her father had taught her to read faces, taught her about all the little ‘tells’ in poker, and a lip twitch was always a dead giveaway.
“My car’s over there.” She gestured at the green Neon, a mere twenty feet away. Normally the rust spots weren’t so glaring, but today it was parked beside a powerful black Audi with spotless wheels that gleamed beneath the sun.
“That’s the visitors’ lot,” he said. “Thought you worked here?”
“I do, but staff parks where they want. No big deal.” Although no one ever took her customary space—on Wally’s right—the second closest spot to the front door.
She glanced over her shoulder at the construction crew, anticipating their usual good-natured waves, but they were oddly subdued. She stooped, inserted her key and the compact trunk creaked open.
A blue bag of cans needed to be shoved aside to make space, and it was a relief when he finally maneuvered the pack of pilfered supplements between the clanking cans and her patched tire. Usually she was fairly cool with this type of thing, but today she felt jumpy. Hesitant even.
“So that’s it? Nothing else to load up?” He paused, one big hand splayed over the trunk, watching her with an odd expression.
“Yes, that’s all. Thanks.” He seemed to be lingering so she reached out and slammed the trunk, hit by a rush of regret. He was rather nice in an uptight way, even gallant enough to load her car, yet she’d deliberately fed him with misinformation. And he might need a job as much as she did.
“You know, Wally’s been a little stressed lately.” She retreated around the fender to the driver’s side. “Maybe it
is
best to wait until his door opens. But he’s planning a big inventory and cleanup so needs to hire some muscle. I hope you get a job.”
His eyes hooded as she slid behind the wheel. He didn’t seem the indecisive type but definitely appeared to be thinking now. “All right,” he finally said as though deciding something with himself. “Anything else I should know?”
“No. That should do it. Although it does help if you like horses.” She turned her key. The engine sputtered to life. “Better hurry before someone else gets in line. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. And you can help me…load more things.”
He smiled then, a real smile that made her hands squeeze the wheel, and part of her fervently hoped he would land that cleanup job.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Jenna, Jenna Murphy.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jenna.”
The raw promise in his voice jolted her as much as the Neon’s aging clutch, and the little car bucked twice as it rolled from the parking lot. Definitely a cocky guy. But oh, so cool.
She chugged down the winding driveway, her heart thumping a tad faster than normal. Peeked in the rearview mirror, disappointed to see he was already gone. And that he hadn’t even bothered to give his name.
***
Author’s Note
I hope you enjoyed reading these books as much as I did writing them. If you did, would you help others enjoy them as well? Lend it (this box set is lending enabled so you can share it with a friend), recommend it, or review it. Thanks very much!— Bev
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Sincere thanks to Brenna Pettersen, Barb Snarby, Becky Mason, Patricia Thomas, Lauren Tutty, Anne MacFarlane, Julianne MacLean, Virginia Janes, John MacKinnon, Audrey Milford and Liana Mason. You made a bumpy road much smoother.
About The Author
Bev Pettersen is an award-winning writer and two-time finalist in the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart® Contest. She competed for five years on the Alberta Thoroughbred race circuit and is an Equine Canada certified coach. Presently, she lives in Nova Scotia with her husband and two teenagers. When she’s not writing novels, she’s riding. Visit her at
http://www.bevpettersen.com
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