Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (8 page)

She glanced over her shoulder, following his gaze. Gary still lazed against the rail, his white shirt and smile dazzling beneath the bright sun. He wouldn't be alone long. Already three people were bee-lining to his side.

“Is Bixton waiting for you?” Kurt asked, his voice clipped. “Or do you have time to ride my two-year-old?”

“I have time,” she said, trying to hide her surprise. He hadn’t mentioned his second horse before; she hadn’t dared dream she’d be able to gallop both his horses.

“Ace is scheduled for gate work. You can have the job if you want it.” He glanced back with such a deep smile, her breath caught.

“Of course I want the job,” she managed. But her voice sounded breathless. It was lucky he didn't smile like that very often, the type of smile that connected to his eyes and made her chest tighten in a most annoying way.

She reached forward and straightened Lazer’s already perfect mane, determined to keep Kurt in the business side of her brain. His casual questions helped her relax, and she soon slipped into an easy conversation. He was a good listener and seemed especially interested in G barn, and she was surprised when they reached the barn so quickly.

She dismounted. A lanky teenager appeared with a red cooling sheet draped over his wiry arm.

“This is Martin,” Kurt said as he unbuckled her saddle. “He’s working mornings and evenings for me.”

She nodded, remembering Martin and what Sandra had confided. The teenager was a loner, a non-achiever at school, and worked his spare hours at the track. Julie had glimpsed him hot walking horses, but Martin was shy and rarely spoke.

“Hi, Martin,” she said. “Glad to meet you. Sandra says you're a good hand with a horse.”

“Thanks.” A flush stained his cheeks and he studied the floor. “I saw you ride at Lethbridge once.” He scuffed the toe of his worn boot, peering at her from beneath too-long hair. “You're the toughest rider I've ever seen.” He gave a bashful smile.

She grinned. Martin had an endearing smile and a cowboy's sweet manners. Once he had more confidence, he'd have plenty of girls chasing him. “It's not hard to stay on,” she said. “The real job is teaching horses to run straight. If you want, Sandra and I can give you some riding tips.”

His eyes sparkled but he said nothing more. Only an emphatic nod revealed his interest.

“Walk Lazer around until he’s cool, Martin,” Kurt said, his tone mild. “I’ll wrap his legs later.”

Martin nodded again, and another clump of brown hair escaped from beneath his ball cap. Julie watched as he expertly turned Lazer and guided the colt along the walkway. Sandra was right. Martin was assertive enough with horses, just uncertain with people. Her gaze met Kurt’s, and she realized he’d been watching her. She dipped her head and adjusted the zipper of her vest.

“Let's see how you and Ace get along,” Kurt said, his voice husky as he turned and walked down the aisle. It was a relief his attention had switched to his horse. He’d seemed to be scanning her face, looking for something, and despite the cool morning, his appraisal made her feel oddly warm.

Chapter Nine

Julie watched as Kurt tied his two-year-old to a ring in the stall. The brass tag on the leather halter read ‘Ace of Spades.’ Ace stood quietly for the saddle and even lowered his head to be bridled. She doubted many horses argued long with Kurt. He had a fearlessness that animals probably sensed; she certainly sensed it, although that first day she’d mistaken it for arrogance.

He wasn’t arrogant, just…bold. She wiped her warm forehead and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Gave a quick swipe to her cheeks, hoping her face wasn’t dirty then reminded herself that her appearance didn’t matter.

It was more important she ride well tonight. He’d promised to watch the races, and if he liked what he saw, she’d earn the mount on Lazer. Simple. No sucking up or feeding peppermints or smiling at stupid jokes. And he was letting her work Ace from the gate, so she might have a chance to earn that mount too. Finally her business was picking up. She let out a sigh of contentment, a sigh so tiny she was surprised when he turned and arched an eyebrow.

“You okay with this?” he asked. “Working a green horse from the gate?”

“Of course,” she said, embarrassed he’d heard her sigh but even more mortified he’d attributed it to nerves. “I was just wondering why you gelded Ace before he ever raced?” she asked quickly.

“He’s a little knock-kneed, and his breeding isn’t fashionable. I picked him up cheap as a yearling.” Kurt gave a reassuring smile, but his eyes probed her face. “He's been popped from the gate before, so there shouldn't be any problem.”

His lingering gaze made her uneasy, although the feeling could also be attributed to the upcoming gate work. There was an element of danger when a horse was confined to a tiny stall, and it always provided an adrenaline rush. She’d been squashed between a flipping horse and steel bars before, but helping with a young horse did earn extra points with the trainer.

Besides, Ace didn't look like he’d be much trouble. His eye was calm and steady, and he stood rock still as Kurt turned and adjusted his bridle, lowering the snaffle several buckle holes. She stepped closer. “Isn’t that snaffle a bit low? I mean…it looks low.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Are you a trainer too?” he asked.

He probably wasn’t used to being questioned but at least he wasn’t frowning, and she edged a step closer. It was risky when equipment malfunctioned, and she’d learned to check the tack. “If the bit's too low, it's useless,” she said.

“Remember what you said earlier?” His lean fingers moved deftly over the buckles. “When you said trainers don’t appreciate advice from their riders?”

It might have been a warning, but she guessed he was much too confident to be thin skinned. “But I'm the one on Ace's back,” she said stubbornly, “so it’s important his steering works.”

He raised his head and looked at her, and his eyes seemed to darken. “I’m not going to let you get hurt,” he said. And then he slanted her a deep smile, the kind that made her insides soften, although that probably wasn’t a good thing to happen when she was about to gallop a thousand-pound horse. “Let’s go.” He surprised her with a gentle rap of his knuckles on the side of her helmet and led Ace from the stall.

She followed, disarmed by his gesture. But she still wasn’t certain about the bit. Sandra considered all trainers idiots until they proved otherwise, although Kurt certainly was no idiot.

He was also damn attractive. His broad shoulders and lean hips looked good from the back, and it was obvious he worked out by the way his shirt tightened over his arms. It had been a long time since she’d really looked at a man, other than how they rode or trained. Since her mother’s death, she hadn’t dated; Sandra thought it was because of the accident, but she didn’t understand.

Still, there was no reason not to check out Kurt’s tight butt, the way he walked, with a slight hint of a swagger. Everything on him looked hard. She had the crazy impulse to slide her hand along his jeans and find out for herself—

She jammed her hands in her pockets and yanked her gaze to Ace, to the sweep of his silky tail and the way it swished over his hocks. Not nearly as stimulating, but definitely safer.

Besides, Kurt received enough attention. Girls were always ogling him. One of the grooms from Harrison’s barn had even asked for his motel number, and Julie refused to join the gaggle of admirers.

Kurt stopped Ace in the center of the aisle. “Don’t scowl,” he said, looking back at her. “The bit’s okay. No wrinkles because I don't want pressure on his mouth, not unless you put it there. You have a nice touch, and I want to take advantage of it.”

“The bit?” She swallowed. “Oh, yes, of course.”

“Come on. Mount up.” He splayed a firm hand over the small of her back, guiding her closer to the saddle. His fingers felt oddly intimate as they slid along her hip to her boot, his touch so warm the leather over her ankle seemed paper thin.

She perched in the saddle, staring straight ahead, dismayed at her reaction. She wasn’t going to be much of a jockey if she turned all fuzzy every time a good-looking trainer boosted her into the saddle. Of course, it wasn’t just any trainer; it was Kurt.

She adjusted her toes in the stirrups, suddenly impatient. She was just relieved Kurt had a relaxed side. It made him easier to work with. When they’d first met, his watchful smile never touched his eyes, but now he was different, more open. He was kind too; she’d noticed his easy way with Martin. She might have been interested in him, if they’d met outside the track. If she actually dated.

She flipped her reins to the other side of Ace’s neck, switching her thoughts to more important things. Like racing this evening. It would be a big night, although she wasn’t going to agonize about weather and post positions and the competition. No more mental lapses like she had with the filly. The manure pile incident and subsequent teasing were too fresh, and her reputation couldn’t take another hit.

At least Kurt was giving her a chance, especially generous considering the way she’d lost her temper, and for that she was grateful.

They walked in companionable silence to the gap where he removed Ace’s lead. “You have about twenty minutes before the starter calls you. Give him a sightseeing tour, then warm him up with a slow lap. Slow,” he repeated.

She nodded and walked Ace onto the track, letting him check out his surroundings before moving into a jog and then a canter.

Fifty feet past the grandstand, the wind tossed a vagrant cowboy hat and the gelding's ears pinned forward, tracking the straw hat as it stalled and flipped. He didn’t spook or try to bolt, and she murmured her approval. Some horses would have gone bonkers, Bill Chandler's Princess for one. But Julie was riding quality horses now, horses trained by an expert. She no longer had Bill's business, but her riding prospects had definitely improved.

She heard a shout, garbled by the wind, and glanced at the chute. The starter, a figure of absolute authority, gestured at the horses scheduled for gate approvals.

“Bring him in,” an outrider relayed.

She trotted Ace toward the starting gate, joining two other horses that circled behind the gate. A score of people lingered by the rail, Otto included. He often watched gate work, although she suspected he really wanted to see an accident. She jerked her head away from his insolent eyes.

A wide-eyed chestnut was called first. The assistant starter reached up to guide the filly in, but she planted her feet. Undaunted, the loading crew turned her in three circles until she was inches from the opening. Two men stepped behind her, hooked their arms together and pushed her in the slot.

Ace was called next. He sidled up, ears flat, attention pinned on the looming gate. Too nervous, he rushed in, clipping the assistant's heels. The man cursed and jumped on the tiny ledge. His gnarly fingers wrapped around the bridle as he cranked Ace’s head to the left.

Clang!
The door slammed shut, the noise vibrating through the entire gate. Ace charged forward but there was no place to go. He waited, trembling, and pressed against the grill. Julie stroked his sweaty neck, trying to calm him, but the shivers didn’t stop.

Thud
. A man hollered and she peered over her shoulder. The last horse to load, a chestnut colt, was full of fight, and soapy lather coated his neck. He whirled, knocking his handler down, flecking the air with specks of white. The colt plunged away, but his rider—she knew him only as Joe—pulled him around before he could bolt.

Furious, the horse bucked high and hard, hurling the rider over his shoulder. Joe landed catlike on his feet and managed to keep a grip on a rein.

Julie straightened, determined to ignore the ruckus. She adjusted her goggles, wrapped her hands around a thick clump of Ace's mane and waited. When the gates opened she needed to be ready for an explosion of speed. Or risk the ignominy of being left behind, sitting in the dirt.

Beneath her, Ace trembled, claustrophobic and resenting the enclosure. His earlier poise had crumbled, and his inexperience showed. He scrambled against the closed door, striking it with a hoof, unnerving them both with the loud clang.

She shot another glance over her shoulder, willing them to hurry. Ace felt like a time bomb, and the filly next to them was beginning to fret too.

The gate crew conferred, opting to load the resisting horse without his rider. They produced a blindfold, confused the animal with a few circles then guided him into the slot. Joe swung over the bars, placed his toes in the irons and an assistant whipped off the blindfold.

“Not yet!” Joe yelled as the horse jackknifed. The handler straightened the horse and pointed his nose in the vee of the gate.

Julie caught herself watching and cursed.
Concentrate on your own horse
. She stared through the grill, trying to re-focus her thoughts. A split second of calm. Then the starter pushed the button, cutting the electric current to the plates that held the doors shut.

Ace reared as the door cracked open. His feet found the ground but his legs crossed and he stumbled, furrowing the dirt with his nose. Legs tangled, he struggled to keep his balance.

She was flung onto his neck. Her hands crisscrossed his mane and she tightened her grip, knowing Joe’s horse was behind her. Staying on Ace’s back was the only way to avoid lethal hooves.

Time suspended as Ace fought to regain his balance. Sounds sharpened—gasps, yells, Otto's gleeful chortle.

What an ass. Anger gave her strength. She willed Ace to be determined enough, athletic enough, to stay on his feet. He seemed to absorb her message and gave a last desperate lurch then straightened and started running.

She began breathing again, using his long mane to regain her seat and find a rhythm with his lengthening strides, and they charged down the lane after the galloping filly.

Ace caught the horse just past the finish line. Julie rose in the stirrups and gradually slowed him to a trot. The filly was on her right but the third horse was missing, and she checked over her shoulder in concern.