Giving Chase (A Racing Romance) (Aspen Valley Series #2) (2 page)

As Frankie stepped over the Golden Miller pub threshold and into its spacious lounge, she silently praised Jack Carmichael for choosing this venue for their rendezvous. Eight o’clock on a Friday evening would ordinarily see the residents of the West Country town of Helensvale out in force, but the die-hard locals obviously hadn’t been able to desert the age-old Plough for this more modern watering hole. A quick glance at the few inhabitants in the cool pine and blue-furnished restaurant area told her Jack wasn’t here yet.

Feeling self-conscious, Frankie
hastened past the bar in the direction of the Ladies. In the privacy of the bathroom, she looked at herself sternly in the mirror above the basins.

‘You’ve
nothing to be nervous about. You’ve already got the job. He won’t withdraw the offer just because you brought down one of his horses earlier. Tonight is just about getting to know one another so you’ll be more prepared on Monday.’

The constellation of freckles across her nose bunched up as, catching sight of her neckline, she grimaced. Easing the neck of her dress down, she examined the blackening bruise above her left breast which no amount of concealer could hide.

‘Bloody Rhys Bradford,’ she muttered, readjusting her cleavage and pulling her jacket further across her chest. She leaned forward and fixed herself with a stern glare. ‘You’re tougher than he thinks. You’ll show him. You—’

The flushing of a loo in a nearby cubicle cut Frankie off. A heavily pregnant girl
waddled into the mirror’s reflection.

She looked awfully young to be venturing into motherhood but Frankie conceded looks could be very deceiving. Even though she
herself was twenty-three, she was still constantly asked for her ID.

The girl smiled in sympathy at Frankie’s anxious expression and stopped beside her to wash her hands.

‘First date?’ she asked.

‘Something like that,’ Frankie replied, embarrassed at being caught talking to
herself and name-dropping while she was at it.

‘You’ll be fine, I’m sure.’

‘Thanks.’ Frankie motioned to her stomach. ‘When are you due?’

‘Two weeks,’ she replied, tenderly rubbing her bump. ‘We’re out for our last night of freedom before the responsibilities of parenthood descend.’

‘You make it sound like doom.’

The girl’s face creased in discomfort and she moved her hand to the base of her
back. Frankie had the sudden urge to be somewhere—
anywhere
—else.

‘No, I’m sure it’ll all be fine,
’ the girl replied and a pang of envy shot through Frankie. Why couldn’t she be as fearless as this girl obviously was?

‘Yes, I’m sure it will be,’ she agreed as the girl exited the bathroom. She nodded at herself and squared her shoulders. ‘It’ll all be fine.’

*

Pep talk complete, Frankie’s freshly-gained confidence made a nimble exit as, following the girl out into the pub, she caught sight of Rhys Bradford ordering a drink. A black biker’s helmet perched on the bar counter beside him like a sinister disembodied head. She wavered, wondering whether she could hide in the loos until Jack arrived. Too late, Rhys looked up and saw her teetering in the shadows. Frankie let out a strangled chuckle as h
is gaze flittered over her then carried onto to survey the rest of the pub.

He didn’t even recognise her! Not even six hours ago he’d been effing and blinding at her and now he didn’t even have the decency to recognise her! Frankie stopped herself in the midst of her indigna
tion.

Why did she want him to recognise her? She didn’t want him to recognise her. Well, maybe when they were working alongside one another every d
ay it wouldn’t be so flattering, but right now didn’t matter, surely?

Frankie beamed and walked across to th
e bar. Right now, with her straight blonde hair falling about her shoulders and a pretty midi dress making her look more feminine than the mud-splattered jockey silks and helmet had earlier, being unrecognisable to Rhys Bradford suited her just fine. She even afforded herself a leisurely appraisal of her future work colleague. He was dressed in hip-hugging charcoal jeans and his dark hair curled over the collar of his black biker’s jacket, looking like Darth Vader’s evil son.

A pity, she thought as she orde
red her drink. He would be rather attractive if he wasn’t so arrogant. As it was, one could practically skydive off his ego.

Frankie was just paying
Joey, the ponytailed barman, when she heard the pub’s main door clatter closed. She took a deep breath before turning around. Some sixth sense which, through evolution, employees have developed to know when their bosses sneak up on them, told her Jack Carmichael had just entered the Golden Miller. She set a confident smile on her face and looked round.

Jack was helping a pretty auburn-haired young woman out of her red coat by the door.
His machismo and her petite femininity made them a perfect match. His striking blue eyes travelled around the pub.

The smile she had ready for him froze when his gaze passed
her by.

Okay, maybe this being unrecognisable in a dress wasn’t such a bonus anymore.

She was just about to call out to him when Jack recognised someone he did know.

‘Ah, Rhys,’ he said, walking across to the bar with his hand placed protectively in the small of his partner’s back.
‘Wasn’t expecting to see you here. How are you feeling after your fall?’

Standing ten feet away, Frankie opened her mouth and shut it again. How was she meant to announce her existence n
ow?

‘No lasting harm,’ Rhys shrugged.
‘Just annoying really. I reckon we would’ve won that race if Elsie Dee hadn’t been hampered.’

Frankie sucked in her breath and c
lamped down on her bottom lip to keep herself from interrupting. The audacity of him! Elsie Dee had hampered
her!

‘Well, she’s still fresh,’ Jack replied. ‘We can have another crack in a couple of weeks’ time. Can I get you a drink?’

Rhys motioned to his orange juice and shook his head.

‘Let me. What are you and Pippa having?’

‘We were going to get a bottle and go sit in the restaurant. We’re meant to be meeting up with our new amateur, Francesca Cooper—’ He paused for another fruitless glance around the pub. ‘But she doesn’t appear to be here yet.’

Frankie realised this should be her cue, but the stiffening in
Rhys’s posture made her hesitate.

‘Frankie Cooper?
The mad thing that brought us down earlier?’ Rhys sounded almost panicked. ‘Wait, she mentioned something, but I thought—I thought she was just being delusional.’

Frankie couldn’t help herself. She gave a bark of laughter which, in the relative quiet of the sparsely-populated pub, sounded a lot louder than she’d anticipated. She covered her mouth with both her hands, feeling
an embarrassed warmth tingle her cheeks.

Rhys, Jack and Pippa all looked at her in astonishment.

Frankie haltingly opened her hands to reveal her face. Recognition flooded through Rhys’s and Jack’s expressions.

‘Surprise!’ she squeaked.

*

Jack gave a disconcerted
cough.

‘Frankie, er…
hello. Sorry, I didn’t see you there.’ He strode over and she took his outstretched hand. She tried not to wince as his fingers crushed hers.

‘It’s the dress. It works as an invisibility cloak,’ she said.
‘Nice to see you again.’

‘Likewise.’
Still holding her hand, he drew her over to the rest of the party. ‘Frankie, I’d like you to meet Pippa, my fiancée. And I believe you might have already met Rhys, Aspen Valley’s first jockey.’

‘We’ve crossed paths,’ Frankie said with a wicked smile.
‘Hi Pippa. Rhys.’

Rhys glared at her with undisguised dislike. His black eyes glinted,
sending a shiver up her spine.

‘Right, well, shall we get a table?’ Jack suggested, looking from Frankie to Pippa. ‘Rhys, would you like to join us?’

Rhys dragged his eyes away from Frankie to address their boss.

‘Thanks, but I won’t. I’m meeting someone.’

With Jack gesturing towards the restaurant tables, Frankie shot Rhys a grin as she passed by him.

‘Nice to bump into you again.’

Rhys cocked an eyebrow and nodded curtly.
Just you wait
, his expression read.

*

Their passage towards the tables was punctuated by excited gasps from Pippa.

‘Oh, look, Jack!’ she exclaimed, clutching his arm and pointing at the far wall. ‘They’ve got my paintings up. There’s the one of Aspen Valley and there’s that one of Helensvale from the top of the hill.’

‘Pippa’s an artist,’ Jack explained. He pulled out a seat for Pippa as they reached a vacant table, but she wasn’t paying any attention.

‘Look! There’s Emmie and Billy!’

Frankie looked towards where Pippa was pointing. The pregnant girl she’d met in the bathroom was sitting with a young man a few tables away.

‘Bloody hell,’ Jack muttered. ‘Is the whole of Aspen Valley here tonight?’

‘I must go say hi.’ Pippa looked apologetically at Frankie. ‘I’m sorry. Will you excuse me for a minute?’

‘Of course,’ Frankie replied. ‘Take your time.’

With Pippa clattering across the stone floors in her heels, Frankie took her seat opposite Jack.

‘She looks a bit above riding weight to be working at Aspen Valley,’ she said, nodding towards Emmie.

Jack shrugged.

‘For now.
Emmie was one of my best work riders until she got pregnant. Lucky for you she did. The new job of amateur was hers originally. She’s been working as my secretary for the past five months.’

Frankie again thought how fearless Emmie had seemed in the Ladies.

‘Brave girl,’ she commented.

Jack’s mouth twitched into a smile.

‘I’m not that much a tyrant to work for.’

Frankie gasped.

‘Oh no!  I didn’t mean that. I just meant she looks so young and now about to be a parent…’ Her voice trailed away, but she was relieved when Jack chuckled.

‘Don’t worry. I’m just teasing.’

She smiled.

‘
I’m really grateful for the opportunity you’ve given me. Riding for you and being a part of Aspen Valley is something I’ve only ever dreamed of.’

‘You’re a talented rider. It must run in the family. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that I’d given
the job to your brother. Then…’ This time it was Jack’s turn to trail off. He swallowed uneasily. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up.’

For a moment Frankie struggled to draw breath. She looked down, letting her fringe mask her eyes. Slowly, the iron clasp around her chest loosened. When she looked up at Jack’s awkward expression, she was composed once more.
On the outside at least.

‘
It’s okay. It’s been five years now, believe it or not. Almost to the day. Still feels like it happened yesterday though sometimes, doesn’t it?’

Jack ducked his head in surprise.

‘Five years already? God, yes. I suppose it must be. Rhys has been with us for five Cheltenhams, if you include last season.’

Frankie grinned. When life seemed to go by at a hurricane pace, she also kept track of the years by Cheltenham Festivals. She recalled as a child her mother once asking her and her brother, Seth
, if they knew how many seasons there were in a year and what they were called. Nine-year-old Seth had shouted, ‘Yes! I know! I know! There’s two: the flat season and the jumps season!’

A pang of nostalgia hit Frankie as she reme
mbered the exuberant boy she had hero-worshipped. She was saved by the reappearance of Pippa.

‘I’m back,’ she grinned, slipping into her seat beside Jack. ‘He hasn’t been giving you too much of a hard time, has he?’

Jack looked offended at the suggestion.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You were a right grump at the start of the evening because of your car—’

‘It’s not a car. It’s a Land Rover.’

‘Well, whatever it is, it’s broken.’ Pippa turned to Frankie. ‘That’s why we were late this evening. Jack’s Land Rover wouldn’t start so we had to come in my car.’

‘I still think we should have persevered. It was probably just a loose connection somewhere. Whatever condition it’s in, it’s probably more reliable than yours.’

Frankie watched in envious wonder at the couple arguing good-naturedly with each other. Despite the occasional insult thrown, there was no malice in their tones. She noticed Pippa habitually touching the diamond ring on her finger, her thumb grazing it affectionately.

‘Anyway,’
Pippa said, bringing their exchange to a smooth decisive end. ‘Back to the purpose of this evening. Frankie, how long have you been a jockey?’