Chapter Eight #2
“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in working part-time at the school?”
Adelia turned her head, met Keeley’s eyes in the mirror over the bureau. “Are you offering me a job?”
“It sounds awfully strange when you put it that way, but yes. But don’t do it because you feel obliged. Only if you think you’d have the time or the inclination.”
Adelia spun around, her face brilliant. “What the devil’s taken you so long? I’ll start tomorrow.”
“Really? You really want to?”
“I’ve been dying to. Oh, it’s taken every bit of my willpower not to come down there every day until you just got so used to me being around you didn’t realize I was working there. This is exciting!” She rushed over to give Keeley a hug. “I can’t wait to tell your father.”
Keeping her arms tight around her daughter, Adelia did a quick dance. “I’m a groom again.”
“If I’d known you were available, Dee, and looking for work, I’d’ve hired you.” Burke Logan settled back in his chair and winked at his wife’s cousin.
“We like to keep the best on at Royal Meadows.” Adelia twinkled at him across the table in the track’s dining room. He was as handsome and as dangerous to look at as he’d been nearly twenty years before when she’d first met him.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Burke trailed a hand over his wife’s shoulder. “We have the best bookkeeper around at Three Aces.”
“In that case, I want a raise.” Erin picked up her wine and sent Burke a challenging look. “A big one. Trevor?” Her voice was smooth, shimmering with Ireland as she addressed her son. “Do you have in mind to eat that pork chop or just use it for decoration?”
“I’m reading the Racing Form , Ma.”
“His father’s son,” Erin muttered and snagged the paper from him. “Eat your dinner.”
He heaved a sigh as only a twelve-year-old boy could. “I think Topeka in the third, with Lonesome in the fifth and Hennessy in the sixth for the trifecta. Dad says Topeka’s generous and a cinch tip.”
At his wife’s long stare, Burke cleared his throat. “Stuff that pork chop in your mouth, Trev. Where’s Jena?”
“She’s fussing with her hair,” Mo announced, and snatched a french fry from Travis’s plate.
“As usual,” she added with the worldly air only an older sister could achieve, “the minute she turned fourteen she decided her hair was the bane of her existence. Huh. Like having long, thick, straight-as-a-pin black hair is a problem. This”—she tugged on one of the hundreds of wild red curls that spiraled around her face—“is a problem. If you’re going to worry about something as stupid as hair, which I don’t.
Anyway, you guys have to come over and see this weanling I have my eye on.
He’s going to be amazing. And if Dad lets me train him. ..”
She trailed off, slanting a look at her father across the table.
“You’ll be in college this time next year,” Burke reminded her.
“Not if I can help it,” Mo said under her breath.
Recognizing the mutinous look, Erin changed the subject. “Keeley, Burke tells me your new trainer is a natural with the horses, with Travis, and with cards as well.”
“And I hear he’s gorgeous, too,” Mo added.
“Where’d you hear that?” Keeley demanded before she could bite her tongue in two.
“Oh, word gets around in our snug little world,” Mo said grandly.
“And Shelley Mason—one of your kids? Her sister Lorna’s in my world history class, a huge bore by the way.
The class, that is, not Lorna, who’s only a small bore.
Anyway, she picked Shelley up last week from your place and got a load of the Irish hunk, so I heard all about it.
Which is why I’m planning on coming over as soon as I can and getting a load of him myself. ”
“Trevor, give your sister your pork chop so she can stuff it in her mouth.”
“Dad.” Giggling, Mo snatched another fry. “I’m just going to look. So, Keeley, is he gorgeous? I respect your opinion more than Lorna Mason’s.”
“He’s too old for you,” Keeley said, a bit more sharply than she intended and had Mo rolling her eyes.
“Jeez. I don’t want to marry him and have his children.”
Travis’s laugh prevented Keeley from snapping back with something foolish. “Good thing. Now that I’ve found someone who comes close to replacing Paddy, I don’t intend to lose him to Three Aces.”
“Okay.” Mo licked salt from her fingertip. “I’ll just ogle him.”
Annoyed, and feeling ridiculous at the reaction, Keeley pushed back her chair. “I think I’ll go down and take a look at the field, and check on Lonesome. He’s always a little sulky before a race.”
“Cool.” Mo sprang up. “I’ll go down with you.”
Mo rushed out of the dining room, heading out past the betting windows at a fast clip, so that Keeley was forced to step lively to keep pace.
“It’s going to be so much fun for you, having your mom work at the school.
There’s nothing like a family operation, you know.
Which is all I want. I mean, come on, I don’t have to go to college to be a trainer.
If I already know what I want to do, and I’m learning how to do it every day right at home, what’s college going to do for me? ”
“Expand your brain?” Keeley suggested.
Ignoring that, Mo hurried outside where the air had turned crisp. “I know horses, Keeley. You understand what it’s like. It’s instinct and experience and it’s doing. ” She gestured widely. “Well, I’ve got time to nag my parents into submission.”
“No one does it better.”
With a laugh, Mo hooked her arm through her cousin’s. “I’m so glad to see you. The summer just winged by, you know, with all of us so busy with stuff.”
“I know.”
They made the turn for the shedrow and the world was suddenly horses.
Some were being prepped for the next race. In the boxes, grooms wrapped long, thin legs that would carry those huge bodies in a blur of speed and power. Trainers with keen eyes and gentle hands moved among the horses to pamper a skittish ride or rev up another.
The hot walkers cooled down horses who’d already run. Legs were examined, iced down. Through the sharp air came the hoofbeats that signaled another field was coming back from the race. Steam rose off the horses’ backs, turning into a fine and magical mist.
“Of all the shedrows in all the world.” Brendon came out of the stables, grinning.
“You’re back.”
“Just.” He strolled over to rub a hand over Mo’s hair. “I talked to Ma a couple of hours ago from the road and she said you were all coming here tonight. So we swung by on the way home.”
“We?”
“Yeah, Bri’s taking a look at Lonesome, giving him a pep talk. Moodiest damn horse. Figured we might as well catch the race, then I can hook a ride back with you guys and Brian can trailer Zeus back home.”
“Sounds like a plan.” It pleased her to hear the calm of her own voice while her heart was galloping. “Actually I came down to take a look at Lonesome myself.”
“He’s all yours—and Bri’s. Hey, I’ve got time to get some dinner. See you up there.”
“Now you can introduce me to the hunk.” Mo fell into step beside Keeley.
“I will if you can behave like you have a brain as well as glands.”
“It has nothing to do with glands, I’m just curious. Don’t worry, I’m taking a page out of your book there when it comes to men.”
Keeley stopped at the door to the stables. “Excuse me?”
“You know, guys are fine to look at, or to hang around with occasionally. But there are lots more important things. I’m not going to get involved with one until I’m thirty, soonest.”
Keeley wasn’t certain whether to be amused or appalled. Then she heard Brian’s voice, the lilt of it. And she forgot everything else.
He was in the box with Lonesome, a temperamental roan gelding. The horse moped, as was his habit before a race.
“They ask too much of you, there’s no doubt about it,” Brian was saying as he checked the wrappings on Lonesome’s legs.
“It’s a terrible cross you have to bear, and you show great courage and fortitude day after day.
Perhaps if you win this one I can put a word in for you.
You know, extra carrots and that sort of thing, a bit of molasses in the evening.
A bigger brass plaque for your box at home. ”
“That’s bribery,” Keeley murmured.
Brian turned, his eyes going warm. “That’s bargaining,” he corrected. “But if I can interest you in a bribe,” he began and opened the box door intending to snatch Keeley inside for a much anticipated welcome-back kiss.
He nearly stepped over Mo. “Sorry. Didn’t see you there.”
“I’m short. That’s my cross to bear. I’m Mo Logan.” She stuck out a friendly hand. “Keeley’s cousin from Three Aces.”
“Pleased to meet you. You’ve a horse running tonight, Ms. Logan?”
“Mo. Hennessy. Sixth race. My money says he’ll win laughing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if I get up to the betting window.”
“I want to take a look at Hennessy before his race. Come up to the dining room if you have time, Brian, for food or a drink. The family’s all there.”
“Thank you for that. Pretty thing,” Brian murmured when Mo dashed off.
“She wanted to take a look at you, too. She heard you were a hunk.”
“Is that so?” Amused, Brian shifted. “Did you tell her that?”
“I certainly did not. I have more respect for you than to speak of you in such a sexist way.”
“Respect’s a good thing.” He yanked her into the box, crushing his mouth to hers before she could laugh. “But I’m banking on passion just at the moment. Have you passion for me, Keeley?” he murmured against her mouth.
“Apparently.” Her ears were ringing. “Oh, Brian, I want—” She strained against him until they bumped into the horse. “You. Now. Somewhere. Can’t we... it’s been days.”
“Four.” He wanted to tear off the long slim dress she wore and mount her like a stallion, all blinding heat and primitive need.
He’d thought, convinced himself, that he’d be sensible about her, kept his wants and wishes under control. And all it had taken was seeing her. Just seeing her. It was exactly as it had been that first time he’d laid his eyes on her. A lightning strike in heart and blood.