Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash (17 page)

She stepped back, nodded and Charlie rushed forward. “Start at the back of the pack,” she said. “Give her a chance. I mean it, Charlie.”

“Sure will.” The kid’s head bobbed. “We’re going to win this year. You’ll be cheering for me, won’t you, Jenna?”

“Definitely. As long as you start at the back.” Her gaze met Burke’s and she gave an apologetic smile. “I had to help the horse,” she whispered. “Couldn’t wait for you any longer.”

“I know.” He placed the hat on her head, adjusting the brim so the sun wouldn’t reach her nose. “Let’s relax now and cheer on Molly.”

About twenty horses milled on the straight stretch, mainly kids, but Burke spotted a few men and one lady with bluish-white hair and a pink helmet.

“I first took Peanut in this race when I was four,” Jenna said, standing on her toes and straining to see over the rail. “It’s more exciting than the steeplechase.”

People were definitely milling to see the race, and the grandstand overflowed. Burke propped his arms around Jenna, protecting her wrist from any inadvertent knocks, and stared over her hat.

So far, Charlie was following her instructions, standing three rows back behind a hyper pony and a bored-looking mule. The starter lowered the flag. The pony bolted, the mule refused to move and a fat grey pony wandered to the outer rail, apparently in search of grass. Most of the horses merely shuffled past, turning their heads as though surprised by the burst of applause from the appreciative audience.

But Molly was in a beautiful extended trot and by the time she broke through the front line of horses she’d hit a smooth gallop. Charlie bounced over her neck, hollering and waving at the fans. He crossed the finish line a full length ahead of a blaze-faced Arab.

The kid turned a big circle and trotted back, teeth gleaming whitely through his dirt-smeared face. He leaned over and slapped Jenna’s hand, then Burke’s, continuing along the row of spectators, smiling and pumping his arm from the back of the unflappable mare.

“That was perfect.” Burke grinned, oddly elated. “What does he win?”

“Aren’t bragging rights enough?” Jenna asked. “He rode five miles to get here. His mom’s fighting cancer. He doesn’t have a dad, but right now he’s one happy kid. Sometimes that’s as good as it gets.”

Something in her voice tugged at him and he glanced down, trying to read her expression beneath the wide brim of her hat.

“I suppose you want to go to the infield now?” she asked, averting her head. “That’s where the mayor and other people like that sit.”

He paused, sensing she wanted to remain here. And it was surprisingly fun rubbing shoulders with the railbirds. But this excursion had always been about contacts, and they needed to be cultivated. “Then that’s where I want to be,” he said.

She opened her tiny purse and pulled out a gold sponsor pass. “Wally sent this. Just show it to the man in the suit and he’ll let you into the tunnel.”

“Wait a minute. You’re coming with me?”

“I don’t have a pass. It’s a Chamber of Commerce event. And I need to check on Molly and I promised a few others…” Her voice trailed off, and it was abundantly clear she had no intention of resting her wrist.

He gripped her left arm. “You’re not massaging any more horses. We’re going to sit down, have a drink and talk to some of these city fathers.”

“But it’s only open to business owners—business owners and their families.”

“You’re with me. That was the deal.”

“It was never the deal. I said I’d go to the steeplechase, not the infield.” Her voice rose. “You can’t make me.”

If she had smiled then, he might have relented but her outright defiance was frustrating and the only way rebellious employees should ever be handled was firmly. “This is your job today,” he snapped. He clamped a hand around her upper arm and propelled her toward the gate.

The man in the dark suit and sunglasses carefully checked the pass then unsnapped the velvet cord, nodding as through granting admission to the White House. Damn pretentious people, Burke thought, but he’d made up his mind and they were going in.

A second man stepped out from the other side of the shadowed tunnel, scanned the gold pass again and shot a curious look at Jenna. “Do you also have a pass?” he asked.

Burke scowled and the guard shut his mouth and stepped back.

A white-jacketed waiter materialized with a tray of champagne. Burke grabbed one, shoving it in Jenna’s left hand. “Bring me a Scotch and water, please,” he said.

“Right away, sir.”

“Derek! Glad you could join us.” Leo Winfield shot out from a cluster of suited men. “And who is this stunning young woman? Oh, hello, Jenna.” Leo nodded, nostrils flaring slightly and Burke instinctively edged closer to Jenna’s side.

Her fluted glass shook as she nodded politely and pressed it to her lips. He could tell she wasn’t drinking though, merely hiding behind the bubbles.

“Who are you betting on today, Derek?” Leo asked, pulling his curious gaze off Jenna’s bandaged wrist. “Have you picked a winner?”

Charlie and Molly
. “Haven’t had a chance to check the form yet,” Burke said. “Who do you like, Jenna?”

She shot him such a disdainful look, he almost flinched but turned and accepted his Scotch from the attentive waiter. Goddammit. Maybe he shouldn’t have dragged her in here. Clearly it was another of those endless functions with pretentious men and fawning women, and besides, her lips were clamped so tightly, they were almost bloodless. He didn’t know why she made him lose his mind, but he certainly hated to see her upset. And she obviously wasn’t enjoying her champagne.

“Here’s a program. Take a look.” Leo edged forward, shouldering Jenna to the side. “The three horse has the best breeding and my good friend, George, owns five percent. He knows the uncle of the man who bred last year’s Derby winner. Come on. You can meet him.”

“Not now,” Burke said.

“Well, hello. Look who’s here.” Kathryn Winfield minced forward, brilliant in a bright red dress and matching hat. “My new boss.”

Jenna’s hand jerked and champagne sloshed her fingers. Her pained gaze met his, then shuttered as she dipped her head and pretended to take another sip.

“Should I call you Derek or Burke?” Kathryn asked.

“Mr. Burke will work,” he said tight-lipped, trying to edge closer to Jenna. Something had hurt her, and that naked pain in her eyes left him unbalanced. But she’d already turned her back, squaring those proud shoulders. A hovering waiter with an obvious eye for pretty ladies passed Jenna a program.

“I’m looking forward to Monday,” Kathryn trilled on. “I’ve always wanted a chance at Three Brooks. The old manager preferred to hire his friends. Regardless of qualifications. Or background.” Her sniff was too loud, too disdainful, and Burke edged back a step. He needed to get Jenna a different drink, should have asked her what she wanted instead of just pushing the champagne in her hand. And maybe he should just get her out of here.

Leo grabbed his arm and gave a hearty laugh. “Yes, well, it’s an improving Center now. Look, Derek. That’s John Simms over there. He runs the local bank. I’ll take you to meet him right after this race.”

The horses were circling, no gate, only a starter with a red flag. Leo’s mouth flapped but Burke stared, not at the horses but at Jenna. Her dress, so gay and jaunty earlier, was now marked with horsehair and a smear of chocolate ice cream, no doubt left by a child’s grateful hug. His fingerprints dented her hat, and grass stains covered her sandals. She’d come for the people and animals. He’d come for the money.

Something ached in his chest.

Kathryn’s insistent voice jerked at him. “Come say hello to Derek Burke, the new owner of Three Brooks, darling.” Kathryn tucked a possessive hand around a man’s arm and pulled him closer. “This is Colin McDonald,” she said. “He owns a vet clinic.” She frowned at the tall red drink in the vet’s hand. “A Singapore Sling? Really, Colin?”

“For a good friend,” he said evenly. He reached out and shook Burke’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. Wally and your staff do wonderful things at the Center and I’m very grateful. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

He firmly disengaged Kathryn’s hand and walked over to Jenna. Pried the champagne glass from her fingers and replaced it with the Sling. Jenna’s head tilted. Burke couldn’t see her expression, but the naked longing on the vet’s face was unmistakable. He jerked his head away, feeling as though he intruded.

Kathryn’s eyes narrowed on Jenna’s back. Her mouth flattened and she headed toward Colin.

“Kathryn, tell me what horse you like,” Burke said quickly, stepping forward and holding out his program.

“My daughter’s an expert at picking the good ones.” Leo gave another loud chuckle, oblivious to the drama.

Burke forced a smile, nodding attentively as Kathryn began a recital about her expert system of picking winners. He’d dragged Jenna over here and the least he could do was divert this woman.

“Oh, this number six horse I also like,” Kathryn went on. She seemed to have forgotten about the vet’s defection and enthusiastically summarized the runners’ pedigrees. “I massaged him once, and he won his next race. The owner said it was solely because of my work.”

The announcer called, “The flag is up!” The crowd roared. Burke grabbed the excuse to escape, easing away from Kathryn to stand on the other side of Jenna. At least she was buffered now. Colin’s shrewd eyes met his in a tacit moment of understanding. Jenna, however, didn’t look at him.

The horses galloped around the track, leaping over the jumps in madcap fashion, all miraculously staying on their feet. In the end, a pretty mare sprinted from the pack and crossed the finish line, lengths ahead of the other runners.

“That mare was bred to Ridgeman’s big stud last year,” Colin said, looking at Jenna but politely including Burke in the conversation. “No foal, so she was put back into training. Strange she didn’t take. Seems to have a new career with jump racing though.”

“She’s a pretty mare,” Jenna said, her voice rusty. “Same color as Peanut.”

“How is the little fellow? I’d be glad to come by—

Leo rushed over and Burke could no longer hear Colin’s quiet words. “You’ll be presenting right?” Leo asked. “In place of Wally?”

“No, let someone else do it,” Burke said, loath to leave Jenna. “Just mention Three Brooks’ name.”

“Excellent.” Leo hurried around the tables, gesturing importantly at the winner’s circle while Burke nursed his Scotch and tried not to brood. He should have listened to Jenna. What a cluster fuck.

The crowd cheered the brave little mare, and the announcer’s voice droned on about sponsors and breeding and the history of the race. And then Kathryn Winfield presented the trophy on behalf of Three Brooks, speaking very eloquently about her new massage job at the improved Center.

Beside him, Jenna stiffened but only for a moment because her good friend, the vet, leaned over and coolly advised Burke that he was driving her home. And then they walked out.

Burke walked over to a solitary table, yanked out a chair and sipped his Scotch. Couldn’t remember when he’d ever messed up so badly.

Oh hell, and then the Winfield entourage paraded back from the winner’s circle and he glanced longingly at the tunnel but it would hurt more to see Jenna slipping into another man’s car, so he didn’t move.

“Where’s Colin?” Kathryn asked, glancing around suspiciously.

Burke ignored her and signaled for another Scotch.

“This is definitely the place to be,” Leo said, sinking heavily into a chair. He reached out, grabbing an entire bottle of champagne from a waiter, almost tipping the tray in his exuberance. “I wonder what the poor people are doing now.”

Everyone laughed heartily except Burke, who stared at the ice in his glass and wondered if Charlie still celebrated his win or if he’d already started his five-mile trek back home.

“Surprised she had the nerve to come here.” Kathryn said, still looking over her shoulder, searching for Colin.

“Who?” Burke asked, his fingers tightening around the glass.

“Jenna Murphy.” Kathryn sniffed. “It’s just not done. The infield is reserved for business owners. Her family certainly doesn’t own a business. Never have, never will. Don’t you know? They’re trailer trash.”

Burke wordlessly pushed back his chair, rose and strode into the dark tunnel. Took the shortcut beneath the grandstand, trudging through a litter of discarded programs, cold fries and soiled napkins. Weaved through the parking lot where patrons picnicked on tailgates, cars honked and girls giggled.

He blocked the racket. Tried to concentrate on his next project—the bankrupt company in Maine or the buyout in California. Tried to think of anything but his most pressing fear.

She might forgive him, but she probably couldn’t.

Chapter Sixteen

Jenna groaned and dragged a pillow over her head, muffling the earsplitting racket. Someone pounded on her roof. Oh, God.
He
couldn’t possible have come today, could he? Not after yesterday’s humiliation.

She lifted the pillow, pried open her eyes and peered through the crack in the curtains. The sun had poked over the trees but was still very low. Couldn’t be more than six, maybe seven. Too damn early. A ragged piece of tile flew past the window onto the ground.

Maybe Burke thought she’d run out and yell for him to stop, a convenient way to avoid his promise to fix her roof. Or maybe he didn’t want to work in the midday heat—it was supposed to be blistering hot today. She squeezed her eyes shut, debating. Tell him to get lost and feel good for five minutes, or suck up her pride and get her roof patched?

And what was he using for patching anyway? She rolled over and checked the bedroom clock. Six thirty. She groaned but scrambled out of bed and crept down the hall. Looked like someone had made a delivery. A load of tiling had been dropped only fifteen feet from the trailer. A conservative beige color, rather pretty actually. It would definitely keep the trailer cooler in the summer.

She pressed her nose against the window, straining to read the writing on the boxes. It looked like those fancy tiles that carried a lifetime warranty, rather wasteful since the trailer couldn’t possibly last many more years.