Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (27 page)

Tiffany gave a pointed smile. “I hope you found the man who wants to buy your trailer.”

He shifted uneasily in the saddle, aware he did owe her a favor but also aware Julie had halted Ace ten feet away. And she was no longer smiling.

“I’m sorry, but I already made other plans,” he said. “Another time would be better. Maybe lunch tomorrow?”

“Gosh,” Julie said, her eyes shooting green shards. “I just remembered I have a prior commitment. So you don't have to worry about those other plans.” Her shoulders set in a rigid line, and she headed past them toward the exit.

“Hey,” he called. “You can’t go yet. Ace isn’t finished. Walk him around a couple more times.”

Her cheeks flamed at his rebuke, but she resumed circling. Tiffany gave a loud laugh, and Kurt wished he’d just let Julie leave. But, dammit, Ace had his first race tomorrow, and Julie knew the plan. She couldn’t quit because she didn’t like the railbirds.

Cisco's nose edged back to Tiffany's chest and Kurt tightened his rein, afraid the App might stain her blouse.

“It's okay,” Tiffany said. “It can be dry cleaned.” She didn’t step back, although he noticed she didn’t pat Cisco either. Her interest in horses was clearly from a distance.

“I’ll pay for any slobber marks,” Kurt said to Tiffany as Ace and Julie circled past.

“Watch out for hickeys too,” Julie muttered.

“What did you say?” he asked.

She shot him a mutinous look but continued circling.

Tiffany raised an amused eyebrow. “If it turns out you're free, Kurt,” she said, not bothering to lower her voice, “just give me a call. I’m in the office until four. And you already have my home number.”

She turned and clicked back to the race office. Cisco swished his stubby tail in disappointment. No peppermints from her. Kurt consoled his horse with a pat and rode toward Julie. “I told her I was busy tonight.”

“You won’t be busy with me.” She stuck her nose in the air.

He blew out a sigh. He didn't like to pussyfoot and had little patience for games, but if she needed him to grovel, he would. Just a bit. “This business with Tiffany is work. She did a big favor for me—”

“And you pretended you were selling your trailer so you could get to know her?” Julie shook her head in disgust.

He considered pulling together a trailer story—he was pretty good at on-the-spot fabrications—but didn’t want to dish out any more lies. “I want to be with you. Just you and no one else.” He held her gaze, hoping she'd feel his sincerity. “That’s all that really matters.”

“No other women.” Her voice shook, and she looked spitting mad. “That's what you said, only a half-hour ago. I gather Tiffany wasn't free so you needed a stand-in. Well, now that your first choice is available, I’ll do us both a favor and back out. Is this horse finished now?”

At his reluctant nod she turned and headed toward the barn, letting Ace cover the ground with his long-reaching stride. Kurt followed at Cisco’s more ambulatory pace, and the distance between them widened with every step.

Dammit. He refused to trot. Didn't have the time or inclination to chase women, and he certainly wasn't going to chase after his jockey, especially in this instance when he hadn't even done anything wrong. It was ironic that whenever he tried to be honest he looked more like a liar.

However, Cisco seemed to sense his ambivalence and broke into a spirited trot, and Kurt reached the barn right behind Julie and Ace. A welcoming Martin appeared by the door with Ace’s lead and a red cooling sheet draped over his arm.

“I’m not feeling well, Martin,” Julie said. “Would you take care of my saddle for me?” She rushed away, not looking at Kurt, but the choke in her voice twisted his gut.

Martin looked at Kurt with accusation in his wide eyes. “She didn’t even take her saddle. The special one that was her mom’s. She never gallops in anything else.”

“I’ll take it to her,” Kurt said, knowing she’d want it for her next ride.

Martin just stared with hound-like forlornness, and Kurt’s gut gave another twist.

“Hey. Want to use Cisco to pony Ace?” Kurt asked. “You can ride behind the barns. Both horses need cooling.”

“Oh, yeah!” Martin nodded, full of instant forgiveness. “I’ve never ponied a racehorse before.” He snapped his mouth shut, as though afraid Kurt might change his mind.

“You’ll do fine. Just keep them away from other horses.”

Kurt barely had time to dismount before Martin edged in, stuck his toe in Cisco’s stirrup and scrambled into the saddle, so eager to mount he didn’t bother to shorten the stirrups. Just snagged Ace’s lead rope, flashed Kurt a thumbs-up and vanished behind the barn.

Martin was happy again, and heck, he deserved a chance to ride. Julie and Sandra had been giving him lessons on Okie, and Cisco was savvy enough to keep them all out of trouble. But Kurt feared it wouldn’t be that simple to appease Julie. He dragged a hand over his jaw and headed off to find her.

A horse pounded behind him. He stepped to the side of the path, checking over his shoulder.

“Where’s Julie?” Sandra called as she slowed her horse.

He shrugged and held up Julie’s saddle. “I'm looking for her. She was planning to ride a couple more, but we finished quicker than expected.”

“Damn. I wanted to help her with Cody's horse. That animal’s so rank he makes Otto’s mare look like a puppy dog.” Sandra clucked at Okie and trotted away.

Kurt circled the barns. It was nine thirty a.m.; the track closed at ten, and most serious trainers had finished for the morning. He turned and headed to the oval. Spotted Julie’s vest and helmet as soon as he stepped up to the rail.

She rode a tall chestnut with a white face and four white legs. The horse had no martingale but clearly needed equipment to keep his head down. His nose was in the air, and he sidled, crablike, across the track.

He looked green, very green, and broke into an awkward canter, cross firing and clinging to the outside lead. A delivery truck rumbled around the tall grandstand, and the horse leaped sideways, then shoved his nose out and charged forward.

A horse galloped by on the inner rail; the chestnut bolted after him, his steps frenzied. Julie braced her feet, trying to stop him with a pulley rein, but the chestnut pounded into the clubhouse turn, unbalanced and clinging to the wrong lead.

Something scared the horse—oh, shit, Julie’s saddle had slipped—and the chestnut veered sideways, almost clipping another horse.

“Man, those two horses nearly went down,” someone said.

Kurt stared helplessly, unable to look away, his throat too tight to talk. The rider behind Julie was still swearing about the near miss even as an intrepid pickup rider galloped after her. But the outrider was thirty lengths back, gaining too slowly, and the chestnut careened around the turn, ears flattened, his fear intensified by the galloping horses.

Just keep him on the track, Julie, Kurt willed. He’ll stop sometime. But the horse's eye rolled toward the barn, and it was apparent he was going to duck out.

“Get that rail up!” Kurt yelled to the dolts standing by the gap.

Too late. The chestnut dropped his right shoulder and scooted sideways through the opening. Julie’s slim body catapulted. She smashed into the dirt, almost impaled by the tip of the jutting rail.

His stomach caved.
Please let her be all right. Please, please, please
. He dropped the saddle and rushed to her crumpled body.

He heard a ragged gasp—she was alive, at least—and dropped to his knees, crippled with fear. She’d hit the ground so hard. Her back, her neck…

“It’s okay,” he said, pretending a calmness he didn’t feel. “Breathe in. Now out. Good girl, just like that.”

Her eyes opened. She gripped two of his fingers as she fought to breathe, fought to suck air into her clogged lungs, and the frantic look on her face made him ache.

“Breathe in again. There you go.” His voice sounded so level, it surprised him.

She managed a shallow breath, her panicked eyes holding his.

“In and out again,” he said. “Good girl, another breath.”

He heard steps and looked up, pushing the curious bystanders back with a protective glare. His expression softened when he turned around. Her breathing seemed to be steadying, and already the grip on his hand had loosened. She straightened her legs.

“Don’t move yet, honey.”

Still winded, Julie stared up at him, filled with despair. He was so kind. So capable. So gorgeous. Naturally he enthralled her—and every other woman around. But she couldn’t compete with Barbi dolls like Tiffany. Didn’t want to.

He must have seen the pain in her eyes. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” she said.
Especially my heart
. “But I don't think anything's broken. See?” She wiggled her arms, her legs, her fingers.

“Don’t move yet,” he said urgently. He ran his hands around her neck, over her back. “What do you feel? Any pain there? How about here?”

She just stared, murmuring short replies, her thoughts as scrambled as her body. He must have had comprehensive first-aid training. His hands were knowing and unexpectedly gentle for such a tough-looking man. But of course, she knew all about his special touch. She quivered at the memory and fought the urge to dip her head into the comfort of that hard chest.

“I’m okay,” she said. She had to get away, especially now, when both her body and emotions were bruised. “I just need to sit up so I can breathe.”

He helped her to a sitting position, supporting her in his arms. “You scared the shit out of me,” he said, his voice close to her ear.

Thump, thump
. The hammering of his heart surprised her. He seemed so calm, so composed.

“Scared me too.” Her mouth wobbled. “I never had much control. Cody’s saddle slipped, and then things really went downhill.”

“We always land in trouble after our little arguments,” he said.

“They don’t seem so little to me.” She prayed he didn’t hear the catch in her voice.

“Maybe not so little,” he said, “but it wasn’t what you thought. Tiffany—”

“You okay, Julie? Do we need the ambulance?” Cody sidled up, followed by an outrider.

“I'm all right,” she said. “Just had the wind knocked out. Is your horse okay?”

Kurt's arms tightened around her, and she sensed his frustration. He had no patience for incompetence, no doubt would complain about Cody's horse being too green for the track. True enough, the chestnut needed a lot more work. But Otto seemed to have disappeared, and she simply couldn't afford to lose another trainer.

“What happened back there?” the grim-faced outrider asked.

Julie shot Kurt a glance, pleading for his silence. “I pulled the bit through the colt’s mouth, and it scared him,” she said. “It won't happen again.”

She stared at Kurt, holding his hooded gaze. She knew he was honest, brutally so. However, silence seemed to be his method to avoid lying, and this was just a little twist on the truth. Not even a lie. Cody had used a small ring snaffle with no chin strap. She probably
had
pulled the bit through with that first desperate yank.

Kurt only stared, the center of his eyes so dark they seemed bottomless. Finally, almost reluctantly, he spoke. “I have a stronger bit that Cody can try. An extra breastplate too. Now let’s go to the hospital and get you checked out.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” She pushed his arms away, along with her despair. Jockeying was tough enough. It was impossible to cope with a relationship too, and Kurt was not an easy man.

“You can lie down in my trailer,” Cody edged closer, “since I feel responsible.” He offered his hand and she took it, trying not to wince as he pulled her to her feet. “After all,” he added, “it was my horse.”

She walked slowly, hiding her throbbing pain, as Cody escorted her off the track.

“His horse, his trailer,” she heard Kurt say to the outrider. “Now isn’t that fucking warped reasoning?”

The outrider only laughed.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Kurt switched lanes, inching his truck behind a pokey green mini van that reeked of exhaust. Traffic on the one-way street was slow and snarly, just like his mood. Cyclists breezed past, unhampered, but vehicles simmered in the late-morning sun.

He cut toward the curb, ignoring indignant blaring from the white Explorer on his bumper. The driver crawled by, shaking his fist. Kurt stepped from his truck and made a rude gesture of his own.

A pedestrian edged past, giving a wide berth, careful to avoid eye contact.

Kurt didn't give a fuck. Right now Julie was with Cody, and he didn’t give a fuck about that either. He stalked down the alley behind ‘Pieces of Eight’ and scanned the back of the shop. A steel door led to a vacant parking space, empty except for a green garbage bin with two worn wheels and a cracked lid. Paw prints crammed the muddy path that edged around the building to the front of the store.

Nothing remarkable. There was a window, although even that was barred. But as he turned to leave a chill fastened to his spine—a chill so cold and unexpected that goose bumps rose along his back. He checked over his shoulder, hit with the distinct sense someone was watching.

Houses fronted the back of the alley, but they seemed deserted. No curtains fluttered, no noses pressed against glass. Nothing to account for his uneasiness.

But he turned back, inexplicably drawn to the shop window, and at the edge of the thick mud he was hit with such an acute awareness of Connor, he stumbled.

He let out a ragged breath and pressed his damp palms against his jeans. Lingered until he regained his composure then grimly retraced his steps, circling around to the front of Friedman’s store. The tinkling doorbell announced his arrival.

Betty scurried forward with a reproachful frown. “I’m glad you came back. You didn’t leave your phone number, and Ted wanted to check about the chain.”

“How's he making out?”

“Almost done,” she said. “It’ll be finished tomorrow.”

“Good. Then I’ll just duck back and see Ted.”

“Oh, no.” She clutched nervously at her throat. “Mr. Friedman is back from Antwerp. You stay here. I’ll have Ted come out.”