Chapter Nine #2
“Get out.” Mo cheerfully wiggled her eyebrows. “I got singed and I was only an innocent bystander. The guy looks at you like you were the last candy bar on the shelf and he’d die without a chocolate fix.”
“That’s a ridiculous analogy, and you’re imagining things.”
“He was going to pound Tarmack into dust for dissing you. Man, I just wanted to melt when he hauled the guy up by the collar. Too romantic.”
“There’s nothing romantic about a fight. And though I certainly could have handled Tarmack myself, I appreciated Brian’s help.”
Damn it, she thought. She hadn’t even thanked him. Scowling, she stomped out of the box for a pitchfork.
“Yeah, you could have handled him. You handle everything. But not really needing to be rescued sort of makes being rescued more exciting, you know.”
“No, I don’t know,” Keeley snapped. “Go to school, Mo. I’ve got mucking out to do.”
“I’m going, I’m going. Sheesh. You must be low on the caffeine intake this morning. I’ll come by later to see how the gelding’s doing. I’ve got a kind of vested interest, you know? See you.”
“Yeah, fine. Whatever.” Keeley muttered to herself as she went to work on the stalls. There was nothing wrong with being able to handle things herself. Nothing wrong with wanting to. And she did appreciate Brian’s help.
And she didn’t need caffeine.
“I like caffeine,” she grumbled. “I enjoy it, and that’s entirely different from needing it. Entirely. I could give it up anytime I wanted, and I’d barely miss it.”
Annoyed, she snagged the soft drink she’d left on a shelf and guzzled.
All right, so maybe she would miss it. But only because she liked the taste. It wasn’t like a craving or an addiction or...
She couldn’t say why Brian popped into her head just then. She was certain if he’d seen her staring in a kind of horror at a soft drink bottle, he’d have been amused. It was debatable what his reaction would be if he’d realized she wasn’t actually seeing the bottle, but his face.
No, that wasn’t a need, either, she thought quickly. She did not need Brian Donnelly. It was attraction. Affection—a cautious kind of affection. He was a man who interested her, and whom she admired in many ways. But it wasn’t as if she needed...
“Oh God.”
It had to be overreaction, she decided, and set the bottle aside as carefully as she would have a container of nitro. What she was going through was something as simple as overromanticizing an affair. That would be natural enough, she told herself, particularly since this was her first.
She didn’t want to be in love with him. She began wielding the pitchfork vigorously now, as if to sweat out a fever. She didn’t choose to be in love with him. That was even more important. When her hands trembled she ignored them and worked harder still.
By the time her mother joined her, Keeley had herself under control enough to casually ask Adelia to work in the office while she exercised Sam.
Keeley Grant had never run from a problem in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now. She saddled her mount, then rode off to clear her head before she dealt with the problem at hand.
The portable starting gate was in place on the practice oval. The air was soft and cool. Brian had seen the blush of color coming onto the leaves, the hints of change. Though he imagined it would all be a sight in another week or two, his attention was narrowed onto the horses.
He was working in fields of five, using two yearlings and three experienced racers at a go. This last phase of schooling just prior to public racing would teach him every bit as much as it taught the yearlings.
He needed to watch their style, learn their preferences, their quirks, their strengths. Much of it would be guesses—educated ones to be sure, but guesses nonetheless, at least until they had a few solid races under their belts.
But Brian was very good at guessing.
“I want Tempest on the rail.” He chewed on a cigar as it helped him think. “Then The Brooder, then Betty, Caramel and Giant on the outside.”
He glanced around at the sound of hoofbeats, then lost his train of thought as Keeley trotted toward the oval. Irritated, he looked deliberately away and slammed the door on that increasingly wide area of his mind she insisted on occupying.
“I don’t want the yearlings rated,” he ordered, telling the exercise boys not to hold them back. “Nor punished, either. No more than a tap of the bat to signal. My horses don’t need to be whipped to run.”
Despite his concentration, he was aware when Keeley dismounted behind him. He took out his stopwatch, turning it over and over in his hand as the field was led to the gate.
“I don’t know the yearling at the rail,” Keeley said conversationally as she looped her reins around the top rung of the fence.
“Your father named him Tempest in a Teacup, as he’s got a small build, but he’s full of spirit. You don’t often ride this way in the morning.”
“No, but I wanted to see the progress. And my new assistant is handling things at the office.”
He glanced over. She’d taken the band out of her hair. It flowed wild over her shoulders, but her face was cool and very serious. “Assistant is it? When did this happen?”
“Yesterday. My mother’s working with me at the school now. Contrary to some beliefs, I don’t insist on handling all the steps and stages by myself, when help is offered.”
“Touchy still, are you?”
“Apparently.”
“Well, you’ll have to snarl at me later.
I’m busy. Jim! Hold him steady now,” Brian called out as Tempest shied a bit at the gate.
“That one still objects a bit to being penned in. There, that’s it,” he murmured as the horses were loaded and the back gate shut.
He held a finger over the timer, plunging when the gates sprang open.
The horses flew out.
He wondered if there was anything that gave his heart more of a knock than that instant, that first rush of speed, that blur of great bodies surging forward on the track.
But through the thrill of it, his eyes missed nothing. The stretch of legs, the clouds of dirt, the figures riding low over the necks.
“She wants the lead, right from the start,” he murmured. “Wants the rest tasting her dust.”
Caught up, Keeley leaned over the rail as the horses made the first turn. The thunder of hoofbeats drummed in her blood. “She runs well in a crowd. You were right about that. Tempest is a little nervy.”
“We might try a shadow roll on him. He wants the outside. He’s about endurance. The longer the race, the better he’ll like it. There’s Betty now. She wants the rail. Aye, she’ll hug it like a lover.”
Without thinking, he laid his hand over Keeley’s on the rail. “Just look at her, will you? That’s a champion. She doesn’t need any of us. She knows it.”
With his hand warm and firm over hers, Keeley watched the horses streak down the backstretch with Betty nearly a length in the lead. Pride and pleasure tangled inside her.
When Brian let out a shout, clicked his watch again, she started to turn, to indulge the giddy thrill by throwing her arms around him. But he was already drawing away.
“That’s good time, damn good time. And she’ll do better yet.” He nodded, his eyes tracking as the riders rose high in their stirrups and slowed their mounts. “I’ll find the right race for her, give her a taste of the real thing.”
Giving Keeley an absent pat on the shoulder, he vaulted the fence.
She watched him go to the horses, to stroke and compliment Tempest, give the rider a few words before moving on to Betty.
The filly pranced flirtatiously, then lowered her head to nibble delicately on Brian’s shoulder.
You’re wrong, Keeley thought. Whatever she knows, whatever she is, she needs you.
And so, damn it, do I.
After he’d stroked, nuzzled, praised, and the horses were led away to be cooled down, Brian jumped over the fence again to pick up his clipboard.
“I’d hoped your father would be down to see her first run with a field.”
“I’m sure he would have. He must be tied up with something.”
With a grunt in response, Brian continued to scribble notes. “Well, I’m running more of the yearlings this morning, so he’ll see plenty. How’s the gelding?”
“Comfortable. The swelling’s down a little. I want to wait until after my class today to drench him. It’s a messy business and I don’t need a half dozen kids coming around once it starts to work on him.”
“Best to wait till late in the day anyway. You want a good twenty-four hours between his last feeding and the drenching. I can do that for you if you’re busy.”
The automatic refusal was on the tip of her tongue. She nipped it off, took a breath. “Actually, I was hoping you’d find time to take a look at him later.”
“I can do that.” He glanced up, saw how set and serious her face was. “What is it? Are you that worried?”
“No.” She took another breath, ordered herself to relax. “I’m sure everything will be fine.” She’d make sure of it, she told herself. One way or the other. “I’ll feel better when things are under control, that’s all.”
She worked it out. She felt better when she had a situation defined and a goal in mind.
This one wasn’t really so complicated, after all.
She wanted Brian. She was fairly certain she was in love with him.
Being certain of that would take a little more time, she imagined, a little more consideration.
After all this was new territory and needed to be approached with caution and preparation.
But her feelings for him were strong, and not as one-dimensional as simple attraction.
If it was love, then she needed to make him fall in love with her. She was perfectly willing to work toward what she wanted, as long as she got it in the end.
Pleasantly tired after a long day’s work, she gave her horses their evening meal. There was no question about it, she decided. Having her mother help had taken a huge burden of time and effort off her shoulders.