Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (93 page)

He grabbed a halter, clumsy with urgency. Pushed open the door, leaped over a soggy ditch and scrambled up the bank.

Cars rushed past in both directions, lights cutting the night, but thankfully there were no thundering transport trucks.

“Hey, girl,” he said softly.

Lyric raised her head from the clover, blinking, as though surprised and not entirely happy to see him.

He tucked the halter behind his back and edged closer. “Good girl,” he soothed.

She sidled away, dropping bits of grass in her hurry to escape.

He followed, talking softly, trying not to rush as a big truck rumbled over the hill. She was on the very edge of the median now, nose down, still hunting for the choicest morsels but prudently keeping her distance. Dammit. She’d never been an obliging horse.

The truck whizzed past. She didn’t move and he exhaled a long breath. He circled, trying to herd her down the ramp, but the crafty mare pivoted and walked along the median, so nonchalant a stranger would assume she regularly grazed in the middle of the dark highway.

He edged closer, keeping his crooning low and unhurried. Only two feet away now, almost close enough to touch. But when he reached out, she snorted and wheeled, tail raising like a banner. A car whizzed past, noses pressed against the windows, and the driver…oh shit, no—

Honk!

Lyric flinched then bolted, kicking up clumps of grass as she galloped down the meridian and across the road. Hooves clacked on the concrete. A car swerved amid squealing brakes and stinking rubber. She vanished into the ditch.

A pickup skidded to a stop. “Need some help?” a man called as he flung open his door.

“Yeah. Loose horse,” Dino said. “I’ll try to herd her up the access road if you can block her from running back onto the highway.”

The man said something, but Dino couldn’t wait and scrambled back down the bank. A white shadow stood unmoving in the narrow ditch, barely twenty feet away. At least she’d stopped galloping and was off the road. Now he only had to keep her moving in the right direction.

“I’ve got her,” a quiet voice said.

He paused, had forgotten all about Becky. She probably thought the mare would behave like an obedient dog off leash. He shook his head, fear making him impatient. “There’s another guy coming to help. We’re going to chase her down the road. Try to herd her toward the barn.”

“But I’ve got her. I tied my shirt around her head. It has long sleeves.”

He blinked, absorbing her words. The white shape hadn’t moved so maybe Lyric really was caught. Hard to believe though. He edged closer, straining to see. Looked like a shirt was wrapped around her ears, across her nose, with a sleeve acting as a makeshift lead line. The perfect halter. Even better, the mare seemed submissive, as though she didn’t intend to fight the restraint. But the shirt meant…

He edged around the mare, peering through the gloom. Yes, Becky’s bra gleamed whitely in the night, a perfect match with the mare’s coat. Surprisingly lovely breasts. He could see the swell—

He jerked his head back and whipped off his jacket. “Here. Put this on. I’ll hold her. Good job,” he added. “She’s not an easy horse to catch.”

“You caught that horse?” a concerned voice called from the top of the ditch.

“Yeah, buddy. Thanks for stopping.” Dino stepped sideways, blocking the man’s view of Becky, protective despite the darkness. The jacket rustled and he glanced down at her, dwarfed now in his dinner jacket. Even with heels, she only reached the top of his chest. Heels, and they had a two-mile hike.

“Can you drive a standard?” he asked as he slipped the halter on Lyric and untied the life-saving shirt.

“No.”

“Then you’d better wait in the truck. It’s quite a walk. I’ll have Slim pick you up.”

She clasped the jacket together with both hands and peered toward the highway, where several guffawing men had gathered. “I don’t want to stay here.” Her voice carried a note of panic. “I’d rather walk with you.”

“Sure. Whatever you want.” He passed her the twisted shirt. “Thank you. For what you did. For using your shirt like that.” He swallowed, shoving aside the image of her chest bared beneath the moonlight, exposed except for her bra. She always wore such baggy clothes. Weird she’d hide such lovely curves.

He turned Lyric and headed along the private road to the barn. Conscious of Becky’s heels, he kept a slow speed. But the mare, ever perverse, chafed at the pace. Without racing or a foal, she was bored and a pain to handle. Probably needed some sort of job.

He glanced sideways. Becky hadn’t complained but was clearly struggling to keep up. No doubt she’d have a few blisters by the end of this night. “Have you ridden before?” he asked.

“A bit. A while ago.”

“Why don’t you mount up? Give Lyric a job, seeing as her shenanigans dragged us out here.”

He half expected a refusal, but the expression on her face was one of pure delight. She still clutched his jacket though, holding it together with one hand and gripping her rolled-up shirt in the other. Impossible to ride like that.

“Here. Stick your shirt in the pocket.” He stopped the mare, reached over and buttoned the jacket, trying to ignore her sexy cleavage. “Now you don’t have to hold it shut. It’s dark anyway.” But his voice thickened because it wasn’t that dark, and there was something intimate and rather appealing about her being wrapped in his long jacket, smiling shyly as she awaited a boost.

He slid his hand along her leg, grabbed her knee and lifted her up. “Hold onto the mane,” he said, impatient with his reaction. Thirty-two years old and he’d seen his share of bare skin. Besides, this lady was nothing like his usual girlfriends.

Lyric tossed her head as though protesting a rider but jigged for only a moment then settled into a long, ground-sweeping walk.

“Everything okay?” he asked, checking over his shoulder.

“Oh, yes.” Her teeth flashed whitely. “This is lovely. Her back is nice and warm. And my feet don’t hurt anymore.”

And that was the most he’d ever heard her say. Friendly darkness always made women relax, something he’d learned when he was thirteen and had charmed the pants off Annabelle Lewis. Not that he was going to make a move on Becky. No way. But she definitely had plenty of spunk beneath that reserved exterior. What made her tick? She obviously had some experience with horses.

“Where did you learn to ride, Becky?”

Her throaty laugh surprised him. “Camp. And now my name is Becky, not Betty?”

He grinned in the direction of her flashing white teeth. “You’re definitely a Becky. Bettys don’t ride horses in the dark. With no shirt,” he added.

“You have experience with that?”

“Some,” he said candidly.

She turned silent. He assumed his honesty had sent her retreating into her shell but when he glanced back her face was lifted, eyes squeezed shut, and she was doing something with her arms. Raising them to the sky?

Her spontaneity was at such odds with her colorless appearance, he swallowed his chuckle and turned away, feeling like an intruder and not wanting to dampen her delight. She looked like a night pixie, and he completely understood her euphoria. It was always magical riding a good horse under the stars. Nothing could match it.

He stared straight ahead, conscious of her every motion but afraid she’d stop if he looked back. Flat, easy walking. A fat moon smudged the horizon, and the only sound was the rhythmic crunch of Lyric’s hooves and Becky’s soft, feminine breathing.

He didn’t know how long he walked before she broke the silence.

“We used to sneak out and ride like this at camp. I think the counselors knew, but they never got mad.”

“Your parents didn’t have horses?” he asked.

“I didn’t have parents.” She spoke without pity, but there was a lifetime of sadness in her voice. “What about you? Always had animals?”

“Yeah. Grew up on a small ranch. Lots of work. Always wanted brothers and sisters to help with the chores. The best time of my life though. I love that place.”

“Your parents still live there?”

“No, my ex does.” Unlike Becky, he couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “Better hold onto the mane. A vehicle’s coming.”

Headlights pierced the dark. Lyric tensed then stumbled, and he tightened his hold on the lead as the truck rumbled alongside.

Slim lowered the window and stuck out his head. “You caught her. No problem?”

“Nope,” Dino said. “How’d she get loose?”

“Don’t know. Must have worked the latch free. I’ll add a snap. You know what she’s like.”

“I know I don’t want any more incidents like this.” Dino spoke evenly, aware Becky was listening, all ears for Martha. The smell of diesel stained the air and Lyric pawed, impatient to keep moving. “We’ll talk back at the barn,” he added, tossing Slim his jangle of keys. “Ask Stephanie to pick up my truck. It’s parked by the highway.”

“Close call then?” Slim asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“Too close,” Dino said.

Chapter Six

Becky yawned, waiting while Dino bandaged Lyric’s legs. The wine, food and adventure left her sleepy, but she didn’t want the night to end. Riding a horse again had stoked her confidence, and it had been a treat walking under the stars, with only a beautiful horse and Dino’s deep voice for company.

He was truly a nice man, she decided, as he wrapped the mare’s legs in thick, blue bandages. Definitely not as scary as she’d first thought. In fact, he was easy to talk to, almost as easy as Martha, and in the dark she’d been able to forget he was so darn good looking.

Even without his hat he resembled a cowboy—or perhaps an outlaw—his hair a little too long. And the way those ripped arms worked over the mare’s legs, his shirt hugging the ridges, well…she wouldn’t have minded if the walk had lasted a few hours longer.

“There you go, sweetie.”

The affection in his voice made her jerk to attention. She blinked with shock, then realized he was talking to Lyric.

“Come closer, Becky,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll show you how to wrap. Martha will probably ask if her horses are bandaged for their workouts.”

She stepped closer, glad he couldn’t see her flush. Of course he wouldn’t call her sweetie; she knew that.

“This is a standing wrap,” he went on. “I rubbed her legs. Slim will remove them in the morning. We want to support her tendons after the adventure. Tomorrow you’ll see five of Martha’s horses on the track. Three of them will have rundown tapes but they’ll be lower—see, down to here. They keep dirt from irritating the heels. What time are you coming?”

“What time does it start?” She hoped he’d say late morning.

“Training hours are six to ten. I usually take the young horses out first, but tomorrow I’ll hold off for you.”

She forced a nod. Lone Star Park was a forty-five minute drive from the Conrad Stable and she’d only been on the backside once before, with Martha and Malcolm. It had been a daunting place, full of brash men and brasher horses.

And this time she’d be alone. Fear wormed through her, and she fidgeted with a button on his too-large jacket, growing even more panicky when she realized her chest was exposed, almost to the top of her bra.

“Come by barn sixteen. But be there by seven at the latest,” he said, seeming oblivious to the amount of skin she was showing. “There’s an owner’s pass in Martha’s car. It will get you into the lot. Are you cold?”

His eyes narrowed on her jacket,
his
jacket actually, and she tugged it higher. She never showed cleavage, always covered herself to the neck.

She stepped back, face hot with embarrassment, and pulled her wrinkled shirt from the pocket. “I’m fine. I’ll go put my shirt on and return your jacket.”

“Don’t rush on my account. It looks much nicer on you.”

She flushed but there was nothing threatening in his voice, just a simple statement, maybe even a compliment. He smiled, not even looking at her chest, and slowly her fingers uncurled.

A truck roared outside, a door slammed, and they both turned. Seconds later, a bright blond head appeared in the aisle. Stephanie, but not dressed to ride. Tonight she wore black jeans and a scooped purple shirt that clung to her curves.
She
definitely wasn’t shy about showing cleavage.

“Here’re your keys, Dino.” She tossed him a rattling key chain. “Looks like Lyric was lucky. We saw her tracks all over the median.” She raised an amused eyebrow at Becky’s clothes. “Guess Lyric wasn’t the only one who got lucky.”

“Actually Becky used her shirt to catch Lyric,” Dino said. “And she may be working herself into a new job if my current staff can’t keep the horses safe.”

“Aw, I’m sorry.” Stephanie’s smile faded. “I don’t think I left Lyric’s door unlatched, but I was in her stall. I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Sorry doesn’t help. There’ll be a staff meeting, Wednesday at two. You’ll also be seeing Becky around more often. Martha isn’t well enough to watch the gallops, even on the training track, so she’s taking Martha’s place.”

“I see.” Stephanie shot Becky another curious glance. “Are you coming down here tomorrow? I’m galloping five, including Hunter.”

“No,” Becky said, “I’ll be at Lone Star tomorrow.”

“So Martha’s real sick?” Stephanie tilted her head, eyes troubled.

“Her heart is weak,” Becky admitted, “but she wants to keep the horses racing. Finish what Malcolm started.”

“You could take a camera,” Stephanie said. “Show her video and stuff so she feels closer to the action. That might help.” She nodded at Becky’s grateful smile then turned to Dino. “I’ll wait for you at your place. You won’t be long, will you?”

“No, Slim can drive Becky home. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Becky’s smile slipped a notch, and she scratched Lyric’s neck. She hadn’t expected Dino to drive her home. It had already been a wonderful evening, and he deserved the company of a gorgeous lady like Stephanie.

However some of the magic faded from the night, and she was relieved only Lyric could see her forlorn face.