Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (16 page)

She glanced up, her smile fading when she saw his face. He knew his mean look was intimidating but hell, he felt mean. He told himself it wasn’t her chumminess with Bixton that bothered him, more that she was hindering his job. Yanking his chain.

“Want me to gallop Lazer now?” She picked up her vest from the empty chair, but her enthusiasm was clearly forced, and she looked pale.

“Nope,” he said. “Sandra’s looking after him.” Julie shouldn’t be galloping horses anyway. Not today. Christ, she looked exhausted. “You okay?” He softened his voice.

“Perfect.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“My stomach’s a little queasy,” she added, “but not too bad. I don’t usually drink like that. But we were celebrating.” Her gaze drifted to Bixton, who gave her an indulgent wink.

Kurt stiffened, resenting that wink, resenting Bixton’s satisfied smile. He usually didn’t begrudge another guy’s action, but it wasn’t surprising the man always looked so damn happy.

Bixton pushed back his chair and rose, still wearing that satisfied expression. “Glad I'm no apprentice,” he said. “My head hurts too much to be bounced around by a horse. I’m going home to sleep this off. Sorry you can't come with me, Jules.” He gave her shoulder a possessive squeeze.

He sauntered toward the door but was only halfway across the room before a brunette in a cropped shirt and skin-tight jeans grabbed him. Julie seemed totally accepting of his defection, even as the girl tugged Bixton into a chair, leaning so close her breasts almost brushed his face.

Kurt automatically edged sideways, hoping Julie wouldn’t see how the brunette was plastered over Bixton. Hopefully she didn’t like Bixton too much; it appeared the jockey managed women as deftly as he did the horses.

“Sorry to interrupt your socializing,” he said, “but the trailer is hooked up, and I’m in a hurry.” He swallowed hard but couldn’t remain quiet. “You shouldn’t have stayed up so late.” She pushed her chair back, grimacing at the harsh sound, and included him in her sweep of displeasure. “I’m ready,” she said. “But if you're going to be grumpy all day, I’ll draw you a map and catch a ride home later.”

He picked up the coffee carafe, topping up both their cups. “I’m not that grumpy,” he said. “Just sorry you had such a rough night.” He passed her the cup and glanced over his shoulder. The brunette was still draped over Bixton like a wet blanket. Julie had to see them, yet wasn’t reacting, and Kurt’s hope flared.

“No need for a map,” he said, his voice almost cheery. “I expect my mood will improve.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Just twenty more miles west.” Julie shifted in the passenger seat but kept a wary eye on Kurt. The dark stubble on his jaw looked menacing, and she wondered why he hadn't shaved. Maybe he’d gone bar hopping after they’d split. Met someone and didn’t make it home.

Her chest tightened, and she pressed her shoulders against the seat. Didn’t like her spike of jealousy. Sure, he was attractive, mouth-wateringly attractive, but he was a trainer. Her boss.

And he had dark corners that popped up when she least expected them. Like this morning. The easy charm she’d enjoyed yesterday had vanished. Today his eyes were tight, like he had much on his mind.

“Are your horses okay?” she asked with sudden concern.

His head swung, his flat gaze pinning her. “You expect them not to be?”

“No.” She shook her head. “But you seem preoccupied.” She was used to forceful men but his grim stare was unnerving, and he knew how to use it. “I just thought maybe Lazer or Ace,” her words tripped in confusion, “I thought maybe something…”

A smile softened his face, and he looked at her with such gentleness that her uneasiness disappeared, replaced by the rapid thumping of her heart.

“I apologize,” he said. “You left so quickly last night. I was disappointed.”

“Oh,” she managed as her heart kicked with delight. So, he hadn't been joking. He really did want to go out. She didn't know what to say, didn't know yet what she wanted. It had been a while since she dated. Maybe it was time.

She wet her lips and drew in a shaky breath. It was easy to flirt in a dark bar, blame it on beer, but this was cold hard daylight. No alcohol in sight.

And Kurt was not a good idea. He was a trainer and there was a critical line between being friendly and inviting disaster. It was hard enough for women in racing—no need to make it harder.

She pointed out the front window, grasping for safer conversation. “That's the front range of the Rockies. They used to be small acreages, but the city stretched.”

“Yeah, it’s bulged out a lot since I was here.”

“When was that?” She relaxed slightly, reassured by the conversation shift. His attention was on the road, and she could study him, unobserved. Could watch the way his big hands held the wheel, the deft way he handled the truck.

“Had some work here a few years back,” he said.

“Racing business?”

“No, another type of business. I've always worked with the family stable but started training full time.” He paused, as though choosing his words. “I needed a career change. When my father retired, he made me an offer I couldn't refuse.” He glanced at her, his expression inscrutable. “I had some nice horses handed to me.”

“Nicer than Lazer?”

He paused a moment. “Yeah.”

She swallowed as she imagined the quality of his animals. Lazer wasn’t even his best. She felt inexperienced, gauche and slightly jealous. Her own family had worked so hard, struggled on the fair circuit. Sacrificed so much.

She stared at the green hills, trying to untangle her feelings. At least it was Kurt. If someone was born to privilege, she was glad it was a man like him. He was kind to his horses and, when he chose to be…kind to people as well.

She turned back, able to tease with hardly any rancor. “So you really are another spoiled Easterner, always handed the easy road.”

“I’m not spoiled, Julie. But I am an Easterner.” His gaze lingered on her lips, and she felt an odd tingle before his attention swung back to the road.

He was probably an excellent kisser. He had a thin upper lip, much fuller on the bottom, but it softened when he smiled, like he was doing now—

Her gaze shot to his eyes, and she blushed. He was watching her again, comfortable with the fact she’d been studying him, and, oh God, maybe he even knew what she’d been thinking. He always seemed to know.

“What did you do before training?” Her voice sounded breathless.

“Whatever I was told,” he said. “What about you?”

She gathered he hadn’t liked some of his orders and she wanted to hear more, but there was a finality in his voice, in the abrupt way he’d turned the conversation.

“I wanted to be a jockey since I was three,” she said. “Mom rode and taught me a lot. But she wanted me to go to university. Wanted me to have options.”

She tapped her fingers on the edge of the window, not wanting to think about the last four years—the sheer exhaustion of university courses, ranch work and the need to hone her riding skills. She’d been reduced to racing on the bush, unable to break into Calgary’s elite jockey lineup. But now she had the time, the opportunity to prove she had enough talent to ride with the pros.

She calmed her hand and pointed out the window. “The Millarville track is past those poplar trees. That’s where I rode my first race.”

She didn't add that it was a stock horse race. No starting gate. No rules. If he knew much of her experience was at small tracks and local fairs, he wouldn’t want her. Kurt’s background was blue blood—no backyard tracks in his pedigree.

A fat gopher darted across the road and Kurt shifted the wheel. She leaned forward, checking the side mirror as the gopher emerged intact behind the long trailer.

Skill or luck? If it was skill, he was a helluva driver. And soft enough to care about a gopher. How sweet. Her heart gave a little sideways shuffle. She checked his hands, large capable hands with big fingers which Sandra swore corresponded to a big dick—Julie quickly slam dunked those thoughts and averted her head, staring into the fierce eyes of a red-tailed hawk perched on a post.

“Good hunting for hawks,” Kurt said, as the truck and trailer rumbled by. “Gophers are everywhere.”

She nodded, surprised he even noticed the bird. “I wanted more hawks after one of our horses stepped in a gopher hole,” she said, surprised she was sharing the story. It still hurt to remember how her favorite yearling—a last gift from her mother—had broken his leg, and her words stumbled, rusty at first, but coming faster as he listened in empathetic silence.

“I took my rifle and sat for an hour in the back pasture,” she concluded. “Wanted to rid our field of gophers but couldn’t take a shot. Decided they were part of living here.”

“It's hard to kill,” he said quietly.

“Yes.” He was a good listener, but she didn’t want to babble his head off anymore so she relaxed in the seat and admired the vast stretch of looming mountains. Their jagged teeth were stark against the sweep of blue and except for an occasional pump jack, the view was timeless.

Her father only rode in the fall, on his hunting weekends, but when she was young, she and her mom had enjoyed countless rides. Life had been full of fun and horses and long chats. God, she missed her.

She realized Kurt was talking and jerked around, blinking away the sting in her eyes. “Pardon?”

“What kind of rifle do you have?” he repeated.

“Mine is only a twenty-two, but we have racks of guns. And a pistol.”

“I see.” He stopped talking, studying the view as the truck and trailer bounced along the rutted road. Ranches dotted the hills, intermingled with stands of aspen and spruce, and she thought it was the prettiest spot in the world.

“Turn left at the next driveway,” she said, breaking the silence.

He swung to the left of the cottonwoods and followed a rail fence that flanked their property. Some posts had been replaced, and the green color contrasted with the weathered rails. She lowered her window and shouted at the blue heron standing in their trout pond, but the bird remained unruffled, legs hidden in the dark water.

Kurt laughed at her frustrated groan. “We’ll make a scarecrow. See if it keeps him out.”

Her heart jerked at the easy way he linked them, and she leaned forward on the seat, fingering her seatbelt, as she directed him up the driveway to the barn.

“This place must be a lot of work.” His eyes narrowed as he studied the fields of cattle and horses. “Just you and your dad here?”

“It’s not so bad now,” she said, “now that I’ve finished my degree.”

“It must have been tough driving into the city every day.”

Her face tightened in a defensive reflex. She couldn’t remember telling Kurt she’d commuted, and it had been a sore point—her dad had wanted her to live in residence. However, he’d needed her too much, both physically and emotionally. “I only went part time,” she muttered.

Kurt was watching her with that interested expression so she shrugged and kept talking. “Mom had just died. The drive wasn’t so bad once I got used to it.”

“So you put your life on hold for a while,” he said as he eased the truck and trailer to a stop.

She blinked, jolted by his statement. No one had ever said it so succinctly, but that’s exactly what she’d done. And no wonder. Her selfishness had caused her mother’s death. She waited for the customary rush of guilt but felt only sadness. The heavy guilt had ebbed.

“You’re right. Guess I did put it on hold.” She pushed open the door and leaped to the ground, feeling much lighter.

He lowered the ramp and backed Country Girl off the trailer. Cisco’s plaintive nicker resonated behind them and the gelding strained to see his travel buddy, unhappy at being left alone.

“This way,” she said, and Kurt led the mare down the lane, following her to the empty paddock. He unbuckled the halter, released Country Girl and joined her beside the gate. The mare dropped to her knees, rolled luxuriously in the grass then galloped along the rail, bucking and calling to the other horses.

She peered at Kurt’s face, trying to figure his thoughts. She’d done the bulk of the talking today and while he knew much about her, he was still an enigma. He’d stretched his arm over the top rail, looking relaxed and clearly enjoying seeing the mare run free. His expression was satisfied, almost triumphant.

His elbow brushed her arm, but she didn’t edge away as she generally did when men moved too close. Didn’t want to.

“My vet will drop by,” he said, breaking the easy silence. “Take some blood, run a few tests.”

“Is something wrong with her?” She stared up at him in alarm. She’d hoped the mare would race later in the month, especially after running such a brave third. With Kurt as her trainer, the mare would no doubt improve. Heck, she’d almost won last night, even hampered by Otto.

“It’s just a routine check I run on all my new horses,” Kurt said, but she noticed he didn’t look at her. “It helps me work out their feeding program.”

“How long will she be here? I can gallop her in the evenings. Keep her in shape.” It would be great for both of them, and the mare would be even better after a break. “I wouldn’t charge you,” she added when he didn’t answer.

She saw him swallow and then he turned to her, his eyes regretful. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure if she’ll ever return to the track. I know she was one of the horses you rode. But if she does run again, I’d definitely want you to ride her.”

“Oh,” she managed, moved by his empathy almost as much as by the loss of the mare. She tried to force a smile, but her lower lip quivered.

“Damn. Please. Don’t look like that.” His voice roughened. “You have Lazer. And you can ride Ace too, if you want.” He wrapped his arm around her in a reassuring squeeze. “But this mare shouldn’t race. She’s had a tough time.”

Oddly she wasn’t that upset, her disappointment tempered by the knowledge he was right. There had been something wrong with the mare, and it was nice he was a responsible owner. Nice that the mare was free and eating grass. Nice that he’d kept his hand splayed around her hip.