STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery) (12 page)

She cast a worried look out the door. Dusk was falling and the dining room would be closing soon. Workers with trailers had their own kitchens, but she didn’t have that luxury.

“Guess I’ll bring the chestnut in now,” Emily said. “He’s been out awhile and the bay sure misses him.” She draped the horse’s lead line over her shoulder. “What are the horses’ names? Dan only refers to them by description.”

“That’s because he never gets attached to contracted horses. Or to people. Everything goes back when the movie’s finished.” Lizzie gave Emily a pointed stare. “Everything.”

Emily pretended to misunderstand Lizzie’s clumsy warning. “And knowing their names makes it tough?” she asked. “Gosh, I’ll just have to make up my own. Think I’ll call them Barney and Ted.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Lizzie’s nostrils flared. “You can’t just make up names. Besides, it doesn’t matter. Your little scene will be over tomorrow.”

The ‘stupid’ comment rankled but Emily had already discovered that the more she smiled, the more annoyed Lizzie became. And the sparring was kind of fun. “My acting scene might be over tomorrow,” Emily said with a smile, “but the race advisory job will continue. And I’m looking forward to working closely with Dan…very closely.”

Lizzie yanked off the bay’s halter. “What are you talking about?” She flung the halter onto the hook so aggressively that Barney flinched. “Dan knows the race industry inside out. What can he possibly need from you?”

“I don’t know.” Emily shrugged. “Maybe you should ask him.” She straightened the halter on the hook, annoyed Lizzie had startled this kind-eyed horse with her temper flare. “I’m going to bring
Ted
in now.”

“Fine,” Lizzie snapped. “But get rid of those cobwebs now. They can cause all sorts of respiratory problems. Plus they’re a fire hazard. If you’re looking after these horses, you better do it right.”

“No problem,” Emily said, trying to pretend she didn’t mind hanging around the barn a few more hours.
I’m not hungry anyway.

She strode to the paddock and clipped the lead line on the chestnut’s halter. Ted seemed content with his new name and eager to return to his stall although grass stains on his back showed he’d enjoyed his brief freedom.

By the time they reached the barn, Lizzie was already stalking toward the path. It didn’t seem a good time to ask for sheets and blankets. Besides, it was obvious Lizzie wouldn’t grant her any favors. A part of Emily even empathized with the wrangler. It would be impossible to have a boss like Dan and not fall a little bit in love.

She gave a wistful sigh. If she’d met him when she was better dressed, with full war paint, he might have shown more interest. Even if it were only a fling. Obviously though, he expected perfection. And guys like him deserved it.

Ted gave her elbow an impatient nudge and she slipped off his halter, watching as he dove into his hay. Barney, however, stretched his head over the door, more interested in a pat than his supper. Of the two, the bay was friendlier and more eager to please. Barney seemed like a horse who might have performed a few tricks.

On impulse, she waved the halter. “Take it, boy.”

He looked at her, ears pricked.

She waved the halter, extending it in her hand. “Get it.”

He reached down and picked up the halter, holding it with an uncertain expression before dropping it in the aisle.

“Good boy.” Grinning, she scratched his neck. Holding a halter wasn’t much of a trick but maybe they could build on it. A girl had to start somewhere. But she needed to let him know he was doing it correctly.

She walked outside and picked some grass, filling her pockets with the greenest blades she could find. When she returned, Barney was waiting, his chest pressed against the door.

She didn’t know what cues his former trainer had used but after only four attempts, promptly rewarded with grass, Barney grabbed the halter the instant she told him to ‘get it.’

“You’re a smart fellow.” She scratched him beneath the jaw, pumped with success. Tomorrow she’d teach him to lift a brush from her hand. With a few more tricks, Dan might call the horse by name. Maybe even keep him. Being shipped to Dan’s ranch seemed a far better fate than being turned over to a stock contractor. Especially considering Barney’s injury and his labor-intensive care.

She reluctantly left the obliging horse and pulled out a broom and stepladder. There were too many chores remaining to dally longer. Besides, if cobwebs weren’t good for Barney and Ted, she didn’t want a single one left hanging.

*

Emily pressed a hand against her rumbling stomach and scanned the deserted dining room. Her mouth watered. Hot food had been served recently—the air still smelled of barbecue chicken—but she’d obviously spent too much time knocking down cobwebs. Only odors remained. Except for gleaming coffee machines the tent was empty.

Swallowing her dismay, she reached beneath the table and pulled out a paper cup. At least there was coffee. She debated the wisdom of caffeine free, but her head and body ached, and she chose a pod of dark roast.

She circled every table, hopeful for leftovers but found only napkins and a bottle of barbecue sauce. A doughnut box had been tossed on the floor and she kicked it in frustration. Something rattled. She bent down and yanked it open. Two plain doughnuts remained.

She blew out a sigh of gratitude. Not much but if she chewed slowly, she could make them last almost as long as a real meal.

She wrapped the precious doughnuts in a napkin, took a last look around then headed back to her barn.

Her barn.
How cool was that? Two sweet horses for company, a background gig tomorrow and perhaps employment for a few more days. The pay was barely over minimum wage, but it was certainly more than she’d earned last week. Movie work, horse care and race advice—best of all, she’d done it on her own, without asking for Jenna’s help.

Her steps lengthened. The wooded path was too rough in the fading light and she swerved to follow the paved drive. She couldn’t wait to sit down and enjoy her bounty but didn’t want to spill a drop of the precious coffee.

After she finished her doughnuts, she’d check out more Internet sites. The racing consultant job was a bit over-reaching—Wally would have a fit—but she might be able to pick up some additional knowledge before tomorrow, enough so she wouldn’t look like a complete fool in front of Dan.

She gave a contented sigh, savoring the silence. The reddening sunset reminded her of home. Their trailer had been a little rough but the view from the porch had always been first class. Generally she wasn’t nostalgic, but the familiar sound of peeper frogs filled her with longing. It was comforting that the steeplechase was only four weeks away. She missed Jenna and Peanut. Best of all, when she finally saw them she’d have money to share.

“Hurry up!”

The sharp command startled her. She peered through the gloom. The old caretaker stood by the gate, gesturing with his cane.

“Hurry up,” he repeated. “It’s time to close the gate.”

She obligingly sped up, even though the gate was only effective for vehicular traffic, and it would be simple to walk around the metal bar.

“Thank you,” she said. “Guess I’m a little late tonight.”

“You’re always late,” he grumbled. “Mr. Hamilton isn’t going to like it.”

She nodded, rather sorry for the confused man. At least he was in his own home, doing a job he obviously loved. Someone must be looking after him.

“Did you get your groceries today?” she asked.

“Yes. But they forgot my doughnuts.” He thumped his cane in irritation. “And I really wanted some.”

Emily’s fingers tightened around the napkin. She was hungry. And quite likely this old man shouldn’t eat doughnuts anyway. They were high in fat and sugar, not really suitable for aging arteries. But he looked rather distraught.

“I have an extra doughnut.” She opened the napkin and thrust out her hand. “Do you like this kind?”

He nodded, his rheumy eyes gleaming.

She passed him a doughnut. He grabbed it without ceremony and stuffed such a large chunk into his mouth, it looked like a choking hazard.

“Let’s eat slowly,” she said, taking a dainty nibble, trying to set a good example.

He smacked his lips and took another giant bite. Crumbs dribbled down his shirt. “These are my favorite,” he said, the words muffled.

“I love them too.” Ignoring her good intentions, she chewed faster. It was impossible to go slow, not when she was so hungry. The doughnut was squashed and stale but quite possibly the best she’d ever eaten.

They chewed and swallowed in joint contentment. When he finished he wiped his mouth, his gaze locking on her cup. “Is that coffee?”

“Yes,” she said. “If you get a cup, we can share.”

He nodded and shuffled toward the cottage, leaning heavily on his cane. She followed him up the stone walkway.

“Visitors used to stop and bring me coffee,” he said, huffing from exertion. “I hope it gets busier when they make the movie.” He transferred the cane to his left hand and twisted the doorknob.

The movie was already half finished but Emily couldn’t speak, too appalled by the stench oozing through the open door. She backed away, breathing through her mouth. “I’ll just wait here,” she managed.

After long minutes and much banging, he returned, carrying a stained and chipped mug. She poured half the coffee into his mug, trying not to recoil at the yellow particles caked on its rim.

“I’ll bring you a coffee and doughnut tomorrow,” she said.

“And I won’t tell the missus about you and Mr. Hamilton.” He reached out, surprising her with a solemn handshake, and it was clear he considered his promise important.

“What’s your name?” she asked, shaking his gnarly fingers then topping up his mug with almost all the coffee.

“Billy.”

“I’m Emily. And I really do appreciate you opening the gate for me.”

She gave a cheery wave and turned away. Her cup was much lighter but so were her steps. It felt good to do something nice. At least someone would miss her if she didn’t show up tomorrow.

There was no danger of spilling her coffee now. Two sips finished it off. She drained the cup and hurried along the rest of the drive, eager to check the horses.

When she swept into the barn, both geldings poked their heads over the stall doors, looking for food. However, Barney further softened her heart with a welcoming nicker.

She gave them each another flake of hay—carefully following Lizzie’s feed instructions—and walked down the aisle to the apartment door. After Billy’s company, her loneliness had magnified and she scanned the barn for the gray cat. Despite her repeated calls, he didn’t appear.

She drew in a resigned breath and pushed open the door. The apartment was unquestionably luxurious, but it hadn’t felt welcoming earlier, even with Dan’s solid presence. Now, in the utter darkness, it felt downright unfriendly. Steps loomed, black and silent as a crypt. She fumbled for the wall switch, relieved when the lights worked.

She locked the lower door, tugged off her boots and trudged up the stairs. The place was chilly, her toes already clammy from her wet socks, and for a moment she regretted giving away the coffee.

But the pleased look on Billy’s face stayed with her. Besides, she was so tired, it was doubtful she’d have time to think about being hungry. She dropped onto the sofa and pulled out her phone. The battery showed a quarter charge, still some juice.

She sent a text to Jenna:
Love it here. Horses and people very nice. Hope your studying is going well. Good luck with exams!

She scrolled through a few racing sites, trying to pad her knowledge. However, the information was too detailed and most of it centered on betting strategies rather than training methods. Her charger was back in Louisville and she didn’t want to waste the limited battery so she turned off the phone and padded into the bathroom.

The tap was tight but water finally streamed from the faucet, murky at first, but eventually crystal clear. It wouldn’t heat up though, even after running the tap for long minutes. She debated going downstairs and using the hot water in the wash stall, but was simply too tired.

She splashed her face with cold water, then shivering, dressed in every item of clothing she possessed. She shuffled into the bedroom and checked the closet for blankets but except for one lonely pink hanger, the room was empty. The stripped bed looked forlorn so she returned to the main room and curled on the sofa.

Barney and Ted shuffled in the stalls below, their sounds reassuring. Yawning, she closed her eyes. But in spite of her bone-deep exhaustion, it was impossible to fall asleep. It might have been the damp cold, or the caffeine, or perhaps her overactive brain scrambling for ways to stretch her employment…and impress Dan.

Dan
. Sighing, she flipped onto her back, acknowledging the attraction. As well as the futility. Guys were like crows; they were attracted to flash. And she didn’t have the necessary glitz and glam—none of her usual props. If she were a movie star like Shania, she’d have her own trailer and makeup attendant, even a hair stylist. She’d look stunning too.

But would he notice, even then?

She stared glumly out the French windows. A checkerboard of lights glowed over the tree line, obviously the Hamilton mansion. Whoever had lived here would have been able to see the top floor of the Hamilton’s house. And vice versa. The hair on the back of her neck abruptly rose.

She scrambled to her feet and yanked the curtains shut, blocking her view of the house. Then curled even tighter on the sofa. She didn’t know what caused the weird feeling. Was only certain that she felt it.

“Please help me with this lobster claw.” Shania peered at Dan from beneath impossibly thick eyelashes.

He obligingly reached for her plate and cracked the claw open, not that it required much effort. The restaurant staff had prepared the lobsters beautifully. Anthony shot Dan a grateful nod from across the table then resumed his conversation with Robert Dexter.