Giving Chase (A Racing Romance) (Aspen Valley Series #2) (27 page)

‘Stop it, you stupid fucker!’
he growled.

Ta’ Qali rolled his eyes. Rhys jumped off and rushed to Frankie’s side.

‘Are you okay?’

She climbed to one knee. It was trembling so much she nearly fell over again. She looked up at
Rhys’s desperate expression and felt like crying. Instead she reached out and let him hold her, safe, solid, secure.

Frankie rolled over in Rhys’s bed and sleepily reached out for him. When all she felt was cold empty bedding, she opened her eyes. The room was dark and lonely apart from the ticking clock on his bedside table.

‘Rhys?’ she said blearily.

She craned her neck, but no, he hadn’t fallen out of bed either. She winced; her shoulder was stiff and achy from Ta’ Qali’s ill-judged kick. Settling back into a more comfortable position, she smiled to herself as she relived their evening together. Dinner had been smooth and pleasant. Unlike so many of her previous dates, Rhys hadn’t criticised her choice in menu by saying, ‘Come on, you have to put some meat on those bones!’ She’d used to hate that. Didn’t they realise that given the choice she would much rather have chosen the roast dinner with Yorkshire puddings or battered haddock smothered in tartare sauce? But Rhys knew that dieting was part and parcel of a jockey’s life. He even went so far as to seek advice from a nutritionist so that he could stay as healthy as he could on the miniscule portions he ate.

Dinner had been followed by half an hour of
Sparks in the Park back in Helensvale. It had been cold and the ground was still frozen with snow, but the white carpet they’d stood on had added to the atmosphere. The green and red Catherine Wheels had lit up the ground as well as the sky. Frankie had been mesmerised. Rhys had seemed less enraptured with the display and on a couple of occasions she’d caught him watching her. The glow of glittering chrysanthemums had danced across his cheekbones and jaw, and Frankie hadn’t known which was more beautiful to watch. It had been the perfect way to erase her hair-raising ride at Ascot that afternoon.

*

Frankie shivered as she left the warmth of the bed and left the bedroom. The flat was quiet and her socked feet padded noiselessly across the floorboards. In the lounge she found Rhys sitting with his back to her, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, watching the television on mute. In the darkness the reflection of the screen flashed across the walls. She watched him. He was replaying a race recording. He let it play for a few seconds then paused it, rewound and slow-mo-ed each jump.

‘Hey,’ she said gently when she felt no longer comfortable spying on him.

Rhys leapt in the air and dropped the remote control.

‘Sorry,’ she said, shuffling in and sitting beside him
on the sofa. ‘Whatya watching?’

Rhys let the recording play on
and sat back.

‘
Virtuoso’s Ascot Chase. I couldn’t sleep.’

‘You never sleep.’

Rhys shrugged, not denying his insomnia. He offered Frankie some of the blanket he had slung over his knees and she gratefully pulled it over her. The silvery light cast by the television made him look even more hallowed and his eyes looked bruised with fatigue.

‘Why do you torture yourself by watching it over?’ she said.

Rhys looked surprised.

‘I’m not torturing myself. I just wanted to see where I could’ve saved ground or ridden a better jump. Improve for next time. It’s part of the job.’

Frankie looked at him uncertainly. Dare she admit that she hardly ever watched her races over? She hated watching herself. She always seemed to grimace over each fence. She didn’t mind watching the races that she had won, but Rhys appeared to do the exact opposite. He watched the races that he’d lost and no doubt beat himself up about it.

‘Second place isn’t so bad though,’ she said.
‘Especially in a Grade One.’

Rhys looked confused.

‘That’s when it’s the
worst
. No one remembers who comes second.’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ she said doubtfully.

‘Who came second to Faustian in last year’s Grand National?’

Frankie paused to think.

‘I don’t remember.’

‘Exactly.
Who came second in the jockey’s championships?’

She shook her head in defeat. Rhys slapped his thigh.

‘There you go. You see? There’re no prizes for runner-up even if like today it was only by a neck. The history books aren’t going to say: first, Zodiac, but only be a neck to Virtuoso. It’s just going to say: first, Zodiac. Fine, so he won the Cheltenham Gold Cup last year, but Virtuoso’s a much better horse.’ He lay his head back against the sofa and sighed. ‘Yet I can’t find anything that I could’ve done differently.’ He gestured to the screen, unaware that the race had already finished. ‘The more I watch it, the more I realise he wasn’t travelling well. He just wasn’t himself today. I’m going to tell Jack to get some blood tests done tomorrow just to see if he’s picked up something we haven’t spotted.’

Frankie stayed silent. She knew Rhys was a determined man. She knew he liked to win, that he
thrived
on winning whereas she was just glad to finish a race alive and if she won, it was a bonus. She had never done this sort of research, watching and rewatching races.

Her gaze flickered back to the screen. What better tim
e to start than now? In shot was Ta’ Qali being led around the parade ring prior to the novice hurdle race. Lather dripped from his saddle cloth like soap suds and he was sweating between his hind legs.

She’d wanted to win that race, there was no doubt about that yet she hadn’t thought to watch his previous races to see if she could learn by
Rhys’s mistakes. She’d just presumed that once she was astride she would know what to do. No wonder she was halfway down the leaderboard in the amateur jockeys’ rankings. It wouldn’t be so bad if she was only getting the odd average ride, but she was riding for the best stable in the country.

‘No wonder Dad
never pays my job any attention,’ she muttered.

‘What?’

Frankie looked at him in surprise.

‘Did I say that out loud? Sorry, I was just thinking.’

‘No, go on. You’ve listened to me ranting. What’s on your mind?’

Frankie shrugged and fiddled with the
corner of the scratchy blanket. She didn’t want to appear disloyal to her father and she didn’t want to sound like a whinger. But then, as she relived the other night at her parents’ house, the frustration began to accumulate and she couldn’t keep it in any longer.

‘It’s just that Dad never seems to notice me these days. I thought that would change when I got the job at Aspen Valley, but if anything, it’s just got worse.
The other day, I told him that I was riding Peace Offering in the Kim Muir at the Festival and all he did was gaze at the photos of Seth winning at Cheltenham. Then only when he realised how rude he was being did he say “oh, that’s very good”.’ A long forgotten memory weaved itself into her mind—her father joyous, ecstatic, slapping Seth on his back with pride and ushering Vanessa to get the camera out. She sighed. ‘And really, who can blame him? Look at Seth—he won the amateurs’ championship in his first year and that was
before
he even started riding for Jack.’

It was
Rhys’s turn to sigh, but his was impatient.

‘Jesus, Frankie. Seth wasn’t perfect.’

‘What do you mean?’

Rhys pulled himself closer on the sofa to where Frankie was sat
cross-legged. She held the blanket up against her chest protectively, suddenly scared by the seriousness of his expression. He placed his hand on her knee.

‘I mean you talk about Seth like he could do no wrong, but look what’s really going on. Everyone’s made him into this beaming ray of sunshine and left you completely in the shadows.’

‘Seth
was
a ray of sunshine,’ she replied, her voice shaking. ‘He never made me feel like I was in the shadows. I wasn’t. He made sure I was always happy. Seth was wonderful. He was brilliant.’

Rhys’s
hand tightened over her knee. He shook his head. He looked at Frankie with a pained expression.

‘No, he wasn’t. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to upset you.’

Frankie hitched her knee out of Rhys’s grasp.

‘Then why are you saying this?’ she said, accusingly.

‘You remember Gracie? Seth’s girlfriend?’

She nodded hesitantly. She felt like she was speeding down a twisty road in the dark without headlights. Where was he going with this?

‘Did you know that he was cheating on Gracie?’

Frankie stared at him then scrambled to her feet. The iciness of the room only accounted for part of the chill which spread through her body.

‘What? No—stop saying that. It’s lies.’

‘No, it’s not. It’s the truth
. Seth was sleeping with June—you know, June from the yard—right up until the day he died.’

She looked down at him, wide-eyed, searching for some glimpse of dishonesty. But his face was solemn.

‘Why are you telling me this?’ she whispered.

‘Because you and your folks have created this golden Adonis boy who never made any mistakes.
I bet your parents haven’t said a bad thing about Seth since he died. I doubt whether they can even remember a moment when he wasn’t excelling. But that wasn’t him. He did occasionally fuck up.’

Frankie’s eyes welled and she shook her head. She tried to fight off this dark shadow from dimming her mental image of Seth. He looked so
beautiful, any hint of darkness lessened her pleasure at remembering him. With a cry, she turned and ran back to the bedroom. She didn’t want to know any more.

‘Franki
e! Wait!’

She heard his uneven footsteps following her and she looked around the darkened room, crazily trying to find a place to hide.

‘Go away!’ she said when he appeared in the doorway. She threw a pillow at him and he ducked. Frankie threw herself onto the bed and covered her head with another pillow, blocking her ears.

‘I’m not tr
ying to upset you—’

‘Then why are telling me these things?’ she said through a mouthful of
cotton and goose feathers.

‘He
was human,’ he went on. ‘Like you, and like me.’

She felt the bed sag as he sat down beside her. She
raised herself to a sitting position, but still clutched the pillow to her chest.

‘Seth was
good
,’ she whispered.

‘He was good. But he wasn’t perfect. I look at you and I see you trying your damnedest to live up to him, to make your parents as proud of you as they were of him.
But you and your parents have made him into some sort of god, and you’re never going to equal a god.’

Frankie crumbled. She felt the sheets crunch as Rhys moved closer. His arms folded around her, strong and comforting, just as he had done earlier that day.

‘Listen, Frankie, Seth was great. Everyone loved him and maybe that’s where he went wrong. June loved him too, yet because she was the Other Woman, nobody knew to ask her how she was doing after he died.’

‘Poor June,’ she murmured. Rhys handed her
a Kleenex and she mopped her eyes. Suddenly, all the wooden conversations she’d had with the stable lass made sense. June didn’t really want to be close to her, she just wanted to feel close to Seth.

‘She was there when he died too,’ Rhys continued. ‘And I never knew how
scared she must have been—not until today.’

Frankie gave him a questioning look.

‘I love you,’ he whispered. ‘I mean I care for you a lot. I just don’t want to see you hurt yourself.’

Frankie stopped mid-nose-blow
.

‘What did you say?’

Rhys’s body tensed against hers.

‘I said I don’t want to see you hurt yourself,’ he said guardedly.

She pulled away so she could see him properly.

‘No,
before that.’

Rhys swallowed.

‘I care for you?’ he said dubiously.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

‘Before that. Did you say you love me?’

‘
Maybe. Actually, yes,’ he said, nodding with more conviction. ‘Do you think you could not hate me after everything I’ve said?’

‘You weren’t lying?
Even if it was to make me feel better in some weird sadistic way?’

He shook his head sadly. Frankie’s heart palpitated.
He loved her
. He, being Rhys Bradford and her, being Frankie Cooper. He leaned forward to kiss her, his breath tickling her lip. She let him draw her towards him against the pillow. With a calloused but tender hand he stroked her hair behind her ear.

‘When I saw what was happening with you on Ta’ Qali, it scared me to death.
I could see what would happen if you fell. It made me realise what you mean to me.’

Lying beside him, Frankie felt the enormity of that chaotic race.

‘You saved me,’ she said with a faint smile. ‘Like a guardian angel.’

Rhys’s
shoulder rose and fell beneath her cheek as he sighed.

‘I’m no angel, Frankie.’

They lapsed into silence, her thoughts twisting and turning, trying to get a grasp on everything that had happened today. As she got used to the idea that her idol had stumbled—he hadn’t quite fallen—she began to question her own aspirations. She questioned her father’s expectations. Rhys loved her. She mightn’t be certain enough to echo his words, but she could do the next best thing.