The Baby Race (14 page)

When she wasn't working, attending class, or
keeping house she helped out around the barn. Since War was the
only paid employee of the Rescue Race Ranch, an extra set of hands
was never turned away. The rest of the workers, including Race,
were volunteers. As director of the not-for-profit corporation he
was entitled to pull a salary, but chose not to, insisting his
saddle making business provided him with an adequate income.

Race divided his days between the barn and
his workshop, doing his best to avoid her. She found herself
craving his company, the sound of his voice - the touch of his
hand. Memories crowded her mind. Warmth coiled in her belly. Her
hand paused in midair as she started to relive that one precious
night.

Race had initiated her into womanhood with a
gentle passion that even now left her breathless with longing. Why
had he pulled away in anger?

A screen door slammed. She jumped and a glob
of frosting fell, ruining the cupcake she was working on. She put a
lid on the direction of her thoughts, scooped up more frosting and
turned her concentration back to the job at hand.

"Sorry. I thought you were working in the
barn."

Startled by the sound of Race's voice, Claire
whirled around. Canary yellow frosting flew off the spatula she
held and hit him square in the face.

The thick butter cream frosting slid slowly
down his cheek and hesitated at the corner of his mouth. His tongue
snaked out to capture the missile. "Hmmm. Not bad. But I prefer
chocolate."

"It's over there." She motioned with the
spatula toward the bowl filled with chocolate frosting. Another
drop of yellow frosting hit him between the eyes. "Oh! I'm sorry."
She snatched up a dishtowel and hurried over to wipe the mess
away.

Race froze as she stepped close and reached
her hand to his face. The sweet smell of sugar and woman surrounded
him. Then she touched him. He jerked away. The look of hurt in her
eyes stabbed at his heart.

"Let's go for a ride," he blurted.

"Yes, please. That would be great. Let me go
get my boots." She pulled off her apron and dashed off.

The eager look on her face twisted the knife
in his heart. Like Bobbie Sue it took little to please Claire. Why
did he work so hard at pushing her away? Who was he protecting?

Himself. She was dangerous to him. He
couldn't afford to open himself to her, to the pain her leaving
would cause.

Too late. The seeds of future heartache had
already been sown. When she and Bobbie Sue left there'd be nothing
but a gaping hole where his heart had been. Did he have any chance
to change the future?

"I'm ready."

Race caught her by the upper arms as she
barreled back into the kitchen. Soft as silk her skin burned his
palms. He let go and stepped back. "Slow down or you'll spook the
horses. Why don't you finish up here," he waved a hand at the
artfully decorated cupcakes spread across the kitchen counter,
"while I go saddle Thunder and Misty. Meet me in the barn when
you're ready."

"Yes, of course." Some of the eagerness faded
from her eyes. She turned away quickly as if to hide the faint
blush that touched her cheeks.

In the barn, he stroked the thoroughbred's
neck. His wounds had healed nicely. Though still leery of traffic,
with patience and thorough training Thunder's Night would be a good
trail horse. In a few months he'd be ready to be put up for
adoption. The gelding nudged him, looking for his usual treat of
apple or carrot.

Race tightened the girth while Thunder
munched a carrot.

"Can I help?" Claire asked.

Race clipped Thunder's bridle to a hook and
headed toward Misty's stall. "Get your saddle from the tack room
and I'll get Misty ready."

The week after Claire and Bobbie Sue settled
on the ranch, Race had fitted them both with saddles, assessed
their riding skills, and chosen mounts for them. Bobbie Sue was a
natural. She sat a horse as if born to ride.

A competent rider already, Race mounted
Claire on Misty. Though spirited, the little bay mare was well
schooled and well behaved.

They worked quietly together and soon led the
horses out of the barn. Race watched Claire swing up onto Misty's
back with confidence.

"War tells me you ride every day."

"I try. There's nothing like it. I love the
freedom. The warmth of the sun on my face. The cool wind in my
hair. The feel of a powerful animal beneath me, carrying me away.
But, since school started, it's been hard to find the time. I'm
afraid I've gotten rusty." Golden highlights glinted in her brown
hair as she threw back her head and raised her face to the sun.

She arched her back, unconsciously thrusting
out her breasts. His mouth went suddenly dry. Thunder jumped as
Race shifted in discomfort in the saddle.

They moved out of the paddock onto the trail
that led along the Council River.

From a deep blue sky the sun beat down on his
head and shoulders, but the warmth couldn't ease the chill deep
inside.

Leaves crackled beneath the horses' hooves as
they walked. A faint aroma of burning leaves scented the crisp fall
air. Race let Claire take the lead on Misty. Full of energy Thunder
pranced sideways.

"Easy, boy." Race patted the gelding's neck
and spoke soothingly. "Be patient. You'll get your chance to
run."

Ahead the path opened to a broad prairie that
jutted into a bend in the river. A thick stand of forest bordered
the third side of the rough triangle forming a natural paddock.

When Claire pulled Misty to a halt, Race
moved next to her. "Shall we give them a little work out? A race?
Twice around the perimeter from here?"

A well-worn track circled the open area.
Race, War and the ranch volunteers often used the track to exercise
and train.

As if he understood, Thunder tossed his head
up and down in excited anticipation. Even Misty pawed the
ground.

"I don't know." Claire hesitated. "Doesn't
seem quite fair. Her legs aren't as long as Thunder's."

"It's fair enough. Thunder might be a
racehorse, but he's been bred for fast speeds for short distances.
Misty's mostly mustang. She's got stamina for the long haul.
Besides it doesn't matter who wins, it's just for…"

"Of course it matters. You're on." Claire cut
him short and kicked Misty into motion.

Her healthy sense of competition stirred his
to life. He urged the big gelding into action. Thunder needed
little prodding to stretch out in pursuit. His muscles bunched and
flexed as he did what centuries of breeding had created him for –
to run. In seconds his head came even with Misty's rump.

The little mare strained to maintain her
lead, but Thunder's longer stride carried him easily alongside.

Hair streaming out like a silken brown
banner, Claire leaned forward over Misty's neck. Laughing, she
turned to look at him.

Race smiled back then gave Thunder his head.
The gelding surged forward and left Misty in the dust. Despite what
he'd said, Misty didn't stand a chance of winning this race. Too
bad he hadn't thought to wager on the outcome of the race. Then
again, Claire hadn't given him a chance.

After twice around Race slowed Thunder to a
trot then a walk. Thunder's black coat shone with sweat, but he
breathed slow and even. Calm now that he'd run off his excess
energy, his ears pricked back and forth in curiosity.

A few minutes later Claire and Misty trotted
up alongside them. Claire pulled Misty to a walk.

Pink tinged her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled.
Unmindful of the sweat, she leaned forward and patted Misty's neck
then raised her hand and pushed tangled hair off her face. Race had
a hard time taking his eyes off the rapid rise and fall of her
chest.

Being with Claire made him feel good, made
him forget the past and everything that stood between them. He knew
he should fight against falling victim to her charm. That way led
to pain and disillusionment. But instead he found himself unable to
resist.

"Thunder and I won. I want to claim my
prize." He leaned over and grabbed Misty's bridle. Both horses came
to a stop.

"We didn't wager on the race, so there's no
prize to claim."

"Just one small kiss." His gaze focused on
her lips, which twitched with suppressed laughter.

Claire tugged futilely on Misty's reins.
"Cheaters shouldn't be rewarded for cheating. You said Misty had
the advantage in the long haul. Why did we lose?"

Race looked up at her assessing stare. "Okay,
you got me. The track is too short for her greater endurance to
outweigh Thunder's longer stride."

"You lied?" Disappointment replaced the
laughter in her voice.

"No lie." He shrugged. "Just not the entire
truth."

"A lie of omission is still a lie. There's
nothing I can't forgive – except a lie." Though there was no heat
in her accusation, Race sensed the plea behind her words.

Guilt for another omission kept him silent as
they returned to the barn.

*****

"I wanna wear my pink dress."

Bobbie Sue's whine grated on Claire's taut
nerves. Thanksgiving dinner at Grandmere's house was sure to be a
disaster. The whole family was under royal decree to attend. Colin
and Lizzie, though recently married seemed to be at war with each
other. No one was safe from the pointed barbs they threw at each
other. Even Grandmere's scowls had no impact on the two. Claire
didn't know if their open hostility was better or worse than the
silent war she and Race were waging.

"Your pink dress isn't right for this party.
It's too cold outside. Besides, it's too small. You've grown nearly
a foot in the three months since your birthday." Claire crouched
down and tried cajoling the cranky little girl. To no avail.

Bobbie Sue's face twisted into a stubborn
look that Claire knew only too well.

"It is not too small." She stamped her foot.
"You're just being mean. Race'll let me wear it." Bobbie Sue
grabbed the pink dress off the bed and ran out of the room.
"Race!"

Claire sighed and sat down on the bed. Bobbie
Sue's behavior was probably a direct response to the tension she
sensed between Race and Claire. She talked back and threw tantrums
over the smallest things.

With a few exceptions, ever since they'd made
love the rift Claire and Race had grown. They shared the same
house, the same room, the same bed, but not the same life.

To the outside world they presented a false
front. They attended community events and family functions
together, behaving like young newlyweds. Their time in public was
both pleasure and pain for her. Only then could she touch him
freely. His warm response to casual caresses gave her hope that he
might feel something for her, but once alone he reverted to
aloofness.

At times, Claire let herself pretend their
act was real, that there wasn't a wall between them. No one beside
Bobbie Sue seemed to notice the dark shadows under her eyes or the
lines of strain bracketing Race's mouth.

In private they did their best to ignore each
other. Or rather Race did his best to avoid being alone with her at
all. Claire missed the easy friendship that had begun to grow
between them. And she mourned the loss of the love that could have
blossomed.

The strain was starting to tell on her. Even
though she was tired all the time, she couldn't sleep. The thought
or smell of food made her nauseous. And she was losing weight.

Bobbie Sue went out of her way to avoid
Claire. Instead she spent every minute dogging Race's footsteps.
Fighting with the little girl left Claire frustrated and
heartsick.

When she started to stand, a wave of
dizziness washed over her. She plopped down on the floor.

Fear made her shiver. What was wrong with
her? Was she sick? She couldn't be ill. If something happened to
her, who would care for Bobbie Sue? The adoption papers listed both
she and Race, but once the marriage ended, she couldn't expect Race
to take on the responsibility of raising the little girl alone.

She pushed aside the nausea churning in her
stomach and stood up. There wasn't anything wrong with her that a
night's sleep and a good meal wouldn't cure. It was time for her to
stop wishing for what could never be and get on with her life.

Next spring she'd be done with her classes.
Between working part time and the settlement from their prenuptial
agreement she could start her own catering business. Max had said
when she was ready that she could buy the Café. She and Bobbie Sue
would be fine without Race and his warmhearted, but aggravating
family.

Race stood at the bottom of the stairs with
Bobbie Sue. A tan turtleneck and a brown corduroy jacket set off
his dark good looks. A small piece of rawhide tied back his long
black hair, destroying his Joe College look. When he bent over to
adjust the ill-fitting pink dress Bobbie Sue insisted on wearing,
Claire's heart ached with longing.

He lifted his head from helping Bobbie Sue.
As if to share his amusement over the little girl's stubborn
streak, his lips quirked up in a wry smile

"Are you ready for the command performance?"
he asked.

She nodded and accepted the coat he held out
to her. As he lifted her hair free of her collar, his warm fingers
brushed against the nape of her neck. A tingle ran down her spine,
leaving her weak and breathless. His sharp intake of breath told
her he wasn't unmoved by the accidental contact. Hope flickered in
her heart. She turned her head to him.

Eyes shuttered, he stared back without
expression. Nausea surged through her again. She jerked away,
clutched the coat closed, and hurried toward the door on suddenly
wobbly legs.

Happy now that she was wearing her favorite
dress, Bobbie Sue's chatter covered the uncomfortable silence
between Race and Claire as they drove toward the Reed mansion.