Backstretch Baby (12 page)

“This is the place your boss sent you?” Rick stared over the steering wheel, frowning at the store. “Where his wife cut off your funds?”

“Yes.” She patted her pocket. “But Ashley needs one nice shirt that fits. And since you found that cheap battery and bought the beer, I can afford to buy it now.”

“Okay,” he said, reaching over her lap and opening the door. “Let’s go.”

She’d stopped being surprised at his gentlemanly behavior. Had stopped jumping whenever his hand brushed her skin. Not that her body had quit reacting. Even now, her leg tingled from the brush of his arm. But it was a nice tingle.

They walked across the pavement, and it seemed normal that his hand cupped her hip. Totally normal that they’d be shopping together.

He reached for the door, but the security guard rushed forward and yanked it open. It was the same short-haired man as before, but today he was dressed in cream breeches and a black polo shirt. His welcoming smile faded when he saw Eve. His gaze skittered over Rick then dropped to the floor.

She bit back a smile, wishing Ashley could see the guard’s discomfort. Rick wasn’t the type of man any sane person would mess with. It wasn’t just his size or obvious fitness, but a cool confidence that hinted he could handle himself in a fight.

She gave the doorman a regal nod and strode through the open door to the sale rack.

There were a lot fewer clothes and for a moment she feared Ashley’s shirt was gone. But she clicked through the hangers and found the coral shirt stuck behind some discounted maternity jeans. Even better, the price had been slashed another twenty percent.

“It’s still here.” She smiled over her shoulder at Rick. “And it’s even cheaper. Because of you I still have my twenty dollars. That means I can buy her some real maternity jeans and pay it forward. She’ll be so happy.”

Rick didn’t say anything, just stared at her with an odd expression.

She held up the shirt. “It’s pretty, isn’t it? Bet she’ll wear this to the caps tournament. When we come to cheer you on.”

“It’s very special,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at the shirt. In fact, his eyes never left her face. When he spoke, his voice was gruff.

“We should get you a bike helmet,” he said. “So you can ride with me. Okay?” He held out his big hand and waited.

It was obvious he was talking about more than a motorcycle ride. And she knew nothing about him except that he had a prison record, made her laugh and was good with animals.

She reached out and took his hand.

*

Ashley pirouetted in the barn aisle, raising her arms and showing off the fit of her new shirt and jeans. “Thank you, Eve! I can’t believe you went back and bought it.”

She clasped her stomach, almost hidden now by the flare of the maternity top. “Now I have something to wear tonight. One of the security guards has a birthday, and there’s going to be cake.”

“That’s great,” Eve said, relieved to see her happy and bubbly like she’d been before the pregnancy.

Ashley tilted her head, her eyes mischievous. “You’ve never been gone all afternoon before. Juanita and the other ladies asked where you were.”

“Rick and I ran some errands,” Eve said. “We found a battery for my car, bought some beer…did some other stuff.”

Ashley snickered.

“Not that,” Eve said. “We haven’t even kissed.”

“Doubt he’s the type to stop at a kiss.” Ashley peered out the door to where Miguel and Rick were hosing Stinger’s legs.

Eve crossed her arms. “You can’t judge people by appearances. Bikers can be more mannerly than security guards.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Ashley said. “But if he moves on a woman, it probably means something. I was checking him out this morning—you know, just letting him know I was interested.” Her voice turned defensive. “After all, he’s hot in a scary sort of way. But he totally shut me down.”

A warm glow spread through Eve’s chest, rising up her neck and leaking from her mouth. Because he hadn’t shut her down, not at all. He’d even bought her a bike helmet, one that fit perfectly and had a special fog resistant insert. He hadn’t let her see the price but she’d tried on at least six, and judging from the smile on the salesman’s face, the helmet must have been one of the more expensive brands.

“Maybe it’s because I’m pregnant.” Ashley’s voice turned plaintive. “Men don’t look at me the same way, even though my boobs are much bigger. I can’t wait until I get rid of this baby.”

“Rid of the baby?” Eve jerked back, her smile disappearing. “What do you mean? I thought you were keeping it.”

Ashley shrugged. “I don’t know. Lately I’ve been considering putting it up for adoption. But then I hung out with the women at the sandpit today, and the children were playing, and it was kind of fun. And I could even imagine being a mother. I’m just not sure if I want it fulltime, you know, because I really want to be a famous jockey.”

Eve rubbed her forehead. The only thing Ashley didn’t waffle on was her commitment to becoming a top jockey. But at least she was getting to know the other workers now, instead of throwing out slurs and accusations. And it helped for the young mothers to get together, to have some support and learn all their options.

“I learned a few more Spanish words,” Ashley went on. “And Juanita showed me how to change a diaper. It stinks and it’s way worse than mucking stalls.” She gave a mock shudder. “But at least I can do it. And that second sand pit was a good idea. If all big trainers were like you, life would be a lot easier.”

“I’m not exactly a big trainer,” Eve said.

“But Tizzy is running on Saturday and Miguel is going to give him a special massage. The purse is twenty-five thousand with a bonus for California breds. And we know he’ll win after a massage. Miguel thinks so too.”

Eve smiled but worry wormed through her chest. Ashley and Miguel were already counting on the bonus Jackson had promised. This was a small track but the race had some very tough competition. And Tizzy was in a slump. Vets had never found any physical ailments. But he hadn’t won a race in six months. Not even close. In fact, his best finish was an uninspiring fourth. And it was never wise to rely on one horse.

“We’ll have to let Miguel rest up,” Eve said. “It takes a lot of energy working on that big horse. And his hands are already stiff.”

“Sure.” Ashley nodded, so vigorously strands of hair spilled from her jaunty ponytail. “I’ll do the stalls the rest of the week. That will save Miguel for the important jobs. The stuff that makes horses win. Besides, Rick helps with the barn work.”

Eve picked up a halter, then re-hung it in the exact same position, her gaze shooting down the aisle to the men outside. Ashley and Miguel were polar opposites, so it was great they were getting along and working toward the same goal. And since Rick’s arrival, their entire situation seemed much improved. He was so helpful, so optimistic, so utterly grounded. He lifted everyone’s spirits. And she couldn’t keep her eyes off him.

“Bet he wins that caps tournament,” Ashley said, following Eve’s gaze. “Seems like he’s good at everything.”

Good at everything
. Eve jammed her hands in her pockets, trying to straighten her increasingly wayward thoughts. She’d always been disciplined, not letting anyone but Joey sneak into her head. And this was not a good time to start drooling over a man. “He plans to practice tonight,” she said, keeping her voice businesslike. “And win some bridles for the barn.”

Ashley didn’t answer, not even to make a suggestive comment. She stared toward the entrance, watching as Rick led Stinger down the aisle. The horse had clearly accepted Rick’s leadership. His neck was low and relaxed, and he didn’t push or try to bite.

“The scenery is sure a lot better now.” Ashley blew out an appreciative sigh. “They say you should watch how a man treats his horse. Because that’s the way he’ll treat his woman.” Her voice lowered. “You should totally go for him.”

Rick glanced sideways, sending heat flooding to Eve’s cheeks, even though there was no way he’d heard. Ashley hadn’t spoken very loudly.

But his gaze locked with Eve’s, his eyes twinkling. He kept one hand on the lead line. Then he reached out and, very deliberately and very gently, stroked Stinger’s neck.

“The bottle has to be between your knees,” Rick said, placing a cap upside down on his beer bottle. “And we have to sit so our feet touch. Tell me if my arm extends too far. I need to release the cap on my side. No leaning allowed.”

Eve sighed and moved her bottle the requisite inch, adjusting it to halfway between her knees.

They sat crosswise in the aisle, with every horse in the barn watching. She’d played caps before, but never so seriously. And she certainly hadn’t realized there were so many rules.

“We used glasses when I played,” she said. “Knocking the cap off the bottle looks harder.”

“Yes.” Rick gave a mischievous wink. “But we’re in the big leagues now.” He pulled back his wrist, took careful aim and shot. The cap arced through the air, hitting the top of her bottle and sending her cap spinning.

“Great shot.” She leaned over and retrieved the cap. “Now what?”

“Now you drink,” he said. “And I get a point.”

She contentedly took a sip of cold beer. There were obvious benefits to giving up her jockey career. Even though her weight hadn’t changed much, she didn’t have to step on the scales and analyze every ounce. It made life simpler. “How much do you drink in the tournament?” she asked. “One sip?”

“One bottle.”

“What?” Her jaw dropped. “That could end up being a lot of beer.”

“Yes,” he said, way too happily.

She frowned and scooped up another cap. It would be great if he won the gift certificate, but this tournament didn’t sound like a walkover. At least he’d have a good time. He certainly deserved some fun. There wasn’t a thing he couldn’t do. Even Miguel was impressed.

‘He’s a good hand,’ the old man had whispered, nodding his head in approval.

“So Woody won this tournament before?” she asked, aiming her cap. “What happened to his last partner?”

“Moved back to Mexico. He and Woody won the last two years.”

She shot at Rick’s bottle, missing the target by at least six inches. “So you’re helping him defend a title,” she said. “Heavy responsibility. Think you can do it?”

“I like to win. Do what I’m supposed to do.” He paused and even though he was smiling, the shadows in the barn made his face look oddly grim. “Whatever it takes,” he added.

And then she understood. This tournament wasn’t really about winning a bridle. It was just a quick way to infiltrate a tightly knit society. Talking, drinking and camaraderie. He already knew more backstretch workers than she and Ashley combined. And after Thursday night, he’d probably be able to track down the bridles and provide the thieves’ names to Scott. Job complete.

She pinched her beer cap against her palm. She’d had such a good time this afternoon. Couldn’t remember enjoying a man’s company so much. Other than Joey, she’d never let anyone lure her away from the horses. But it was important to remember that Rick’s thoughtful attention wasn’t personal. He was on the job. And naturally he was good. Scott only hired the best.

“Does Scott make all his investigators do this?” she asked. “Go shopping, drink beer?” She smiled, hoping Rick would reassure her that this wasn’t just work. But he didn’t speak. “Do you ever do anything just for fun?” she added.

“Scott assigns our jobs. We choose how we want to do them. But results are the only thing that matters.”

Her smile froze and she struggled to hide her hurt. Yes, he was here on a job, but he’d been so charming and she’d been falling so fast, and she’d thought he liked her a little bit too. Heck, he’d even bought a second helmet. Acted like it was so important. No doubt, he’d be laughing about this later with Scott.

She didn’t mean to shoot her cap at his head, but her aim was off, probably because she was blinking so much. It didn’t matter though. His quick hand reached up and snapped the cap in midair.

“I’m tired,” she said, rising and brushing some hay off her jeans. “But you should keep practicing… Scott expects results. Just be sure to hide any leftover beer. Miguel’s an alcoholic.”

She didn’t realize Rick had even moved until his hand wrapped around her hip. “What’s wrong?” he asked, turning her around.

Her pride called for a shrug and a smile, but she’d never been anything but forthright. And his eyes were so concerned and he still was a nice guy, even if he was entertaining her on someone else’s dollar.

“I was having too much fun,” she admitted. “I keep forgetting Scott’s paying you to do a job.”

“If I was really doing my job,” he said, “I’d be over in the cafeteria right now. Having a beer and talking with the guys. Instead of doing this.”

He traced her lower lip with his thumb, his eyes locked on her face. “Which, for the record, is what I wanted to do ever since I saw you riding in the dark. Before I could even see how beautiful you are. In every way. ”

His hand splayed around her hip while his thumb stroked her lip, and sensations shot through her body. His touch was so gentle, so knowing. Little wonder the animals loved him. She tilted her head, anticipating his kiss.

But he didn’t move. Didn’t touch her anywhere else. He just caressed her lip, staring down at her mouth as if it were the focal point of his existence. As if nothing else mattered, not the horses, or his job…and certainly not the caps lying at their feet.

His thumb was soft but rough, with a callus on the pad, and somehow his slow touch made her lips feel bigger, pouty and it turned utterly, crazily erotic. She trembled, her mouth parting. And finally when every quivering nerve seemed hot wired to her mouth, his head lowered.

His mouth was hard and hungry, and fit hers perfectly. She clutched at his shoulders, losing herself in the kiss. He groaned, or maybe it was her. But she didn’t care. Already their tongues were entwined, as if they knew each other and had just been waiting for their time to dance.