Summer Kisses (113 page)

Kurt jogged to G barn. The pathway seemed darker, lonelier. His stomach churned with apprehension. He shouldn’t have left the horses alone. Should have done more than switch stalls. Should have guessed Otto was unstable.

He controlled his urge to barge into the barn and paused outside the door. Heard nothing but the benign chewing of hay and a restless horse shuffling in the straw.

He walked down the dim aisle. A few animals poked their heads over their doors, watching with curious eyes. He blew out a sigh of relief when he stepped on some hoof trimmings that dotted the floor. Nick must have been shoeing late. Good old Nick. The horses hadn’t been alone for long.

He headed toward Cisco’s stall—his least expensive horse but the most precious— searching for the App’s wide forehead, his intelligent eyes. Couldn’t see him and Kurt’s breath caught. But when he leaned over the door, there was Cisco, lying in the straw, eyes placid and heavy with sleep.

Cisco flicked his ears when he saw Kurt, as if questioning his presence at such a late hour, and debating if he should get up. Kurt edged away, weak with relief, not wanting to disturb him.

He visited each horse. All were fine. Lazer, Ace and Otto’s mare were on their feet but blinking and groggy with sleep. He checked their pulse, listened to the familiar rumbling of their gut. Everything was normal—no colic, stress or injury. Even the mare was content, surprising him with a low nicker.

The tightness in his shoulders eased, replaced with a bone-aching tiredness. He unlocked his tack room and stretched on the cot. The mattress was thin and lumpy, but the horse blanket was soft and warm. Slowly his mind settled.

It hadn’t been such a bad night. With a couple nudges, everything was now rolling. Otto was losing his cool, bound to make a key mistake, and tomorrow Julie might provide insight as to why Connor had followed Otto.

He would have the whole day to work with her, just the two of them. All alone. He hoped they would get along very well.

Clanging buckets prodded Kurt awake. Someone shouted, and hungry horses nickered and stomped as they called for breakfast. He hauled the blanket over his head, blocked out the noise and went back to sleep.

He didn’t know how much longer he dozed, but persistent knocking jerked him out of a deep sleep.

“Kurt, you in there?”

He muttered, the words unintelligible even to him. Sandra’s voice poked at him from beyond the door. “Want me to pony Lazer too? Julie has a headache.”

He jerked awake, surprised he’d slept through the feeding racket. Rose, yawning, and opened the door. “Morning, Sandra. You finished with Ace already?”

“Yup. Martin got him ready.” Her gaze swept his chest and she gave a saucy wolf whistle. “Yum. Enough muscles to make a girl like me stutter.”

He scooped his shirt from the floor and yanked his arms into the sleeves.

“Don’t worry.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m too tired to jump you. Gary and Julie kept me up way too late. Now please hurry. I want to go home and grab some sleep.”

He fumbled with his shirt, still groggy and feeling slightly out of synch. He was also intensely curious as to Julie and Gary’s relationship. Not technically any of his business, of course, but one never knew when little details might help a case.

He followed her into the aisle, still tucking in his shirt. “Where’s Julie now?” he asked. “She’s supposed to show me the way to her dad’s ranch.”

“Dunno. I banged on their door earlier this morning, but they didn’t get up. They’re probably mainlining coffee in the kitchen now. Neither of them can hold their liquor, not like me.” Her smile was smug. “Come on. Get your horse ready. Or should I ask Martin to do it?”

“No, I’m coming,” he muttered, hoping his dismay over their sleeping arrangements didn’t show. He readied Lazer and led him down the aisle to Sandra. “I put a bridle on him in case he gets strong.”

“Okie and I can handle him,” she said. “You want a mile and a half?”

“Two. And give him a shot down the lane.”

He followed her to the gap, watching as Sandra guided Lazer onto the track. The colt bit at Okie’s neck, but Sandra snapped his nose, and he straightened with an air of resignation. Clearly Lazer was in capable hands.

Kurt turned and walked to the kitchen. He bought a coffee and leaned against the counter, scowling and surly. Spotted the two jockeys nestled in the corner, heads pressed together over a large carafe of coffee.

He weaved through a cluster of people. “Good morning,” he said, addressing them both but looking at Julie. Dark shadows lined her eyes, and he couldn’t resist adding, “Late night, I hear?”

She glanced up, her smile fading when she saw his face. He knew his mean look was intimidating but hell, he felt mean. He told himself it wasn’t her chumminess with Bixton that bothered him, more that she was hindering his job. Yanking his chain.

“Want me to gallop Lazer now?” She picked up her vest from the empty chair, but her enthusiasm was clearly forced, and she looked pale.

“Nope,” he said. “Sandra’s looking after him.” Julie shouldn’t be galloping horses anyway. Not today. Christ, she looked exhausted. “You okay?” He softened his voice.

“Perfect.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“My stomach’s a little queasy,” she added, “but not too bad. I don’t usually drink like that. But we were celebrating.” Her gaze drifted to Bixton, who gave her an indulgent wink.

Kurt stiffened, resenting that wink, resenting Bixton’s satisfied smile. He usually didn’t begrudge another guy’s action, but it wasn’t surprising the man always looked so damn happy.

Bixton pushed back his chair and rose, still wearing that satisfied expression. “Glad I’m no apprentice,” he said. “My head hurts too much to be bounced around by a horse. I’m going home to sleep this off. Sorry you can’t come with me, Jules.” He gave her shoulder a possessive squeeze.

He sauntered toward the door but was only halfway across the room before a brunette in a cropped shirt and skin-tight jeans grabbed him. Julie seemed totally accepting of his defection, even as the girl tugged Bixton into a chair, leaning so close her breasts almost brushed his face.

Kurt automatically edged sideways, hoping Julie wouldn’t see how the brunette was plastered over Bixton. Hopefully she didn’t like Bixton too much; it appeared the jockey managed women as deftly as he did the horses.

“Sorry to interrupt your socializing,” he said, “but the trailer is hooked up, and I’m in a hurry.” He swallowed hard but couldn’t remain quiet. “You shouldn’t have stayed up so late.” She pushed her chair back, grimacing at the harsh sound, and included him in her sweep of displeasure. “I’m ready,” she said. “But if you’re going to be grumpy all day, I’ll draw you a map and catch a ride home later.”

He picked up the coffee carafe, topping up both their cups. “I’m not that grumpy,” he said. “Just sorry you had such a rough night.” He passed her the cup and glanced over his shoulder. The brunette was still draped over Bixton like a wet blanket. Julie had to see them, yet wasn’t reacting, and Kurt’s hope flared.

“No need for a map,” he said, his voice almost cheery. “I expect my mood will improve.”

“Just twenty more miles west.” Julie shifted in the passenger seat but kept a wary eye on Kurt. The dark stubble on his jaw looked menacing, and she wondered why he hadn’t shaved. Maybe he’d gone bar hopping after they’d split. Met someone and didn’t make it home.

Her chest tightened, and she pressed her shoulders against the seat. Didn’t like her spike of jealousy. Sure, he was attractive, mouth-wateringly attractive, but he was a trainer. Her boss.

And he had dark corners that popped up when she least expected them. Like this morning. The easy charm she’d enjoyed yesterday had vanished. Today his eyes were tight, like he had much on his mind.

“Are your horses okay?” she asked with sudden concern.

His head swung, his flat gaze pinning her. “You expect them not to be?”

“No.” She shook her head. “But you seem preoccupied.” She was used to forceful men but his grim stare was unnerving, and he knew how to use it. “I just thought maybe Lazer or Ace,” her words tripped in confusion, “I thought maybe something…”

A smile softened his face, and he looked at her with such gentleness that her uneasiness disappeared, replaced by the rapid thumping of her heart.

“I apologize,” he said. “You left so quickly last night. I was disappointed.”

“Oh,” she managed as her heart kicked with delight. So, he hadn’t been joking. He really did want to go out. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know yet what she wanted. It had been a while since she dated. Maybe it was time.

She wet her lips and drew in a shaky breath. It was easy to flirt in a dark bar, blame it on beer, but this was cold hard daylight. No alcohol in sight.

And Kurt was not a good idea. He was a trainer and there was a critical line between being friendly and inviting disaster. It was hard enough for women in racing—no need to make it harder.

She pointed out the front window, grasping for safer conversation. “That’s the front range of the Rockies. They used to be small acreages, but the city stretched.”

“Yeah, it’s bulged out a lot since I was here.”

“When was that?” She relaxed slightly, reassured by the conversation shift. His attention was on the road, and she could study him, unobserved. Could watch the way his big hands held the wheel, the deft way he handled the truck.

“Had some work here a few years back,” he said.

“Racing business?”

“No, another type of business. I’ve always worked with the family stable but started training full time.” He paused, as though choosing his words. “I needed a career change. When my father retired, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.” He glanced at her, his expression inscrutable. “I had some nice horses handed to me.”

“Nicer than Lazer?”

He paused a moment. “Yeah.”

She swallowed as she imagined the quality of his animals. Lazer wasn’t even his best. She felt inexperienced, gauche and slightly jealous. Her own family had worked so hard, struggled on the fair circuit. Sacrificed so much.

She stared at the green hills, trying to untangle her feelings. At least it was Kurt. If someone was born to privilege, she was glad it was a man like him. He was kind to his horses and, when he chose to be…kind to people as well.

She turned back, able to tease with hardly any rancor. “So you really are another spoiled Easterner, always handed the easy road.”

“I’m not spoiled, Julie. But I am an Easterner.” His gaze lingered on her lips, and she felt an odd tingle before his attention swung back to the road.

He was probably an excellent kisser. He had a thin upper lip, much fuller on the bottom, but it softened when he smiled, like he was doing now—

Her gaze shot to his eyes, and she blushed. He was watching her again, comfortable with the fact she’d been studying him, and, oh God, maybe he even knew what she’d been thinking. He always seemed to know.

“What did you do before training?” Her voice sounded breathless.

“Whatever I was told,” he said. “What about you?”

She gathered he hadn’t liked some of his orders and she wanted to hear more, but there was a finality in his voice, in the abrupt way he’d turned the conversation.

“I wanted to be a jockey since I was three,” she said. “Mom rode and taught me a lot. But she wanted me to go to university. Wanted me to have options.”

She tapped her fingers on the edge of the window, not wanting to think about the last four years—the sheer exhaustion of university courses, ranch work and the need to hone her riding skills. She’d been reduced to racing on the bush, unable to break into Calgary’s elite jockey lineup. But now she had the time, the opportunity to prove she had enough talent to ride with the pros.

She calmed her hand and pointed out the window. “The Millarville track is past those poplar trees. That’s where I rode my first race.”

She didn’t add that it was a stock horse race. No starting gate. No rules. If he knew much of her experience was at small tracks and local fairs, he wouldn’t want her. Kurt’s background was blue blood—no backyard tracks in his pedigree.

A fat gopher darted across the road and Kurt shifted the wheel. She leaned forward, checking the side mirror as the gopher emerged intact behind the long trailer.

Skill or luck? If it was skill, he was a helluva driver. And soft enough to care about a gopher. How sweet. Her heart gave a little sideways shuffle. She checked his hands, large capable hands with big fingers which Sandra swore corresponded to a big dick—Julie quickly slam dunked those thoughts and averted her head, staring into the fierce eyes of a red-tailed hawk perched on a post.

“Good hunting for hawks,” Kurt said, as the truck and trailer rumbled by. “Gophers are everywhere.”

She nodded, surprised he even noticed the bird. “I wanted more hawks after one of our horses stepped in a gopher hole,” she said, surprised she was sharing the story. It still hurt to remember how her favorite yearling—a last gift from her mother—had broken his leg, and her words stumbled, rusty at first, but coming faster as he listened in empathetic silence.

“I took my rifle and sat for an hour in the back pasture,” she concluded. “Wanted to rid our field of gophers but couldn’t take a shot. Decided they were part of living here.”

“It’s hard to kill,” he said quietly.

“Yes.” He was a good listener, but she didn’t want to babble his head off anymore so she relaxed in the seat and admired the vast stretch of looming mountains. Their jagged teeth were stark against the sweep of blue and except for an occasional pump jack, the view was timeless.

Her father only rode in the fall, on his hunting weekends, but when she was young, she and her mom had enjoyed countless rides. Life had been full of fun and horses and long chats. God, she missed her.

She realized Kurt was talking and jerked around, blinking away the sting in her eyes. “Pardon?”

“What kind of rifle do you have?” he repeated.

“Mine is only a twenty-two, but we have racks of guns. And a pistol.”