barn’s two-and-a-half-acre paddocks, working a black filly on a lunge line.
She knew exactly when he’d registered her approach because his big shoulders hunched beneath his charcoal sweater. Resting her forearms on the fence, she watched him bring the filly from a walk to a jog and back out again. If a horse was beginning to experience leg problems, the transition between the two could reveal the issue first. To a trainer, anyway, who had the experience to spot tiny breaks in form.
Once he’d let the filly come to a rest, he glanced at Lyndie, his expression inscrutable. “What do you think?”
“I think she looks fine. What do you think?”
“I agree.” He unclipped the line from the horse’s halter. “I thought I saw something this morning, but I’m not seeing it now. She looks good to me.” He approached the fence, rolling the line. He’d worn his hat earlier but at some point had abandoned both it and his jacket.
She wasn’t used to seeing him without his Stetson. Sunlight glimmered in his dark hair and illuminated the world-weariness in his eyes. Faint lines marked his forehead above straight brows. Without the hat he seemed less protected, since he could do nothingto shadow the scar that crossed his face and ended at the clean, hard angle of his jaw. “Is there something I can do for you?”
His fierce beauty tangled her thoughts for a second. You’d do best to be careful, Lyndie. This lion has teeth . “An idea came to me last night. About Silver Leaf.”
He waited for her to explain.
“He should have been named Casanova,” Lyndie said.
“Casanova?”
“Because I think he’s a lady’s man.” She smiled, excited about her theory.
“I don’t understand.” He let himself out of the paddock.
She stepped away from the fence and faced him. “His groom, Zoe, is female. Blackberry, the only horse in the barn he seems to have a deep connection to, is female. And now his exercise rider is female.” The sight of it on paper last night, a male horse surrounded by females, had jogged the idea free. It made perfect sense to her.
Jake was staring at her, though, like it made zero sense to him. His body language told her she’d stepped too far over onto the imaginative side of things.
Her hunch about Silver was just that—a hunch. But sometimes in life and in horse racing, the future could turn on the knife’s edge of a hunch. “When you moved Silver Leaf from Whispering Creek to the racetrack in the past, did Zoe go with him?” she asked.
“No. Some employees stay here with the horses in training, some go to Florida, and the rest come to Lone Star Park with me. Zoe’s always stayed here.”
“What about the exercise riders Silver’s had at the track? Male or female?”
“Male.”
“His jockey?”
“Male.”
It wasn’t surprising. Though women had made deep inroads into the world of Thoroughbred racing, the majority of grooms, foremen, exercise riders, jockeys, and trainers were still men.
“You think Silver Leaf will run better for a woman than a man,” Jake said.
“The short answer is yes.”
“I’ve never heard of a horse like that.”
“Me either. But you and I both know that each horse is unique.” Many of the great Thoroughbreds possessed one-of-a-kind foibles. “I suspect that Silver Leaf prefers the ladies.”
The sound of a whinny carried past them on a rush of wind that smelled like cut grass and possibilities. Heavy awareness pulled between them, almost tangibly.
“You really haven’t changed much,” he stated.
He was referencing all the crazy schemes she’d chased as a girl and repeating one of the things he’d said during their ill-fated phone conversation. “And?” She placed her hands on her hips and purposely kept her tone and expression light. “Are you going to try to foist me off on another trainer again today?”
“Foist? Is that a word?”
“It’s a word. Are you? Going to try to foist me
She knew exactly when he’d registered her approach because his big shoulders hunched beneath his charcoal sweater. Resting her forearms on the fence, she watched him bring the filly from a walk to a jog and back out again. If a horse was beginning to experience leg problems, the transition between the two could reveal the issue first. To a trainer, anyway, who had the experience to spot tiny breaks in form.
Once he’d let the filly come to a rest, he glanced at Lyndie, his expression inscrutable. “What do you think?”
“I think she looks fine. What do you think?”
“I agree.” He unclipped the line from the horse’s halter. “I thought I saw something this morning, but I’m not seeing it now. She looks good to me.” He approached the fence, rolling the line. He’d worn his hat earlier but at some point had abandoned both it and his jacket.
She wasn’t used to seeing him without his Stetson. Sunlight glimmered in his dark hair and illuminated the world-weariness in his eyes. Faint lines marked his forehead above straight brows. Without the hat he seemed less protected, since he could do nothingto shadow the scar that crossed his face and ended at the clean, hard angle of his jaw. “Is there something I can do for you?”
His fierce beauty tangled her thoughts for a second. You’d do best to be careful, Lyndie. This lion has teeth . “An idea came to me last night. About Silver Leaf.”
He waited for her to explain.
“He should have been named Casanova,” Lyndie said.
“Casanova?”
“Because I think he’s a lady’s man.” She smiled, excited about her theory.
“I don’t understand.” He let himself out of the paddock.
She stepped away from the fence and faced him. “His groom, Zoe, is female. Blackberry, the only horse in the barn he seems to have a deep connection to, is female. And now his exercise rider is female.” The sight of it on paper last night, a male horse surrounded by females, had jogged the idea free. It made perfect sense to her.
Jake was staring at her, though, like it made zero sense to him. His body language told her she’d stepped too far over onto the imaginative side of things.
Her hunch about Silver was just that—a hunch. But sometimes in life and in horse racing, the future could turn on the knife’s edge of a hunch. “When you moved Silver Leaf from Whispering Creek to the racetrack in the past, did Zoe go with him?” she asked.
“No. Some employees stay here with the horses in training, some go to Florida, and the rest come to Lone Star Park with me. Zoe’s always stayed here.”
“What about the exercise riders Silver’s had at the track? Male or female?”
“Male.”
“His jockey?”
“Male.”
It wasn’t surprising. Though women had made deep inroads into the world of Thoroughbred racing, the majority of grooms, foremen, exercise riders, jockeys, and trainers were still men.
“You think Silver Leaf will run better for a woman than a man,” Jake said.
“The short answer is yes.”
“I’ve never heard of a horse like that.”
“Me either. But you and I both know that each horse is unique.” Many of the great Thoroughbreds possessed one-of-a-kind foibles. “I suspect that Silver Leaf prefers the ladies.”
The sound of a whinny carried past them on a rush of wind that smelled like cut grass and possibilities. Heavy awareness pulled between them, almost tangibly.
“You really haven’t changed much,” he stated.
He was referencing all the crazy schemes she’d chased as a girl and repeating one of the things he’d said during their ill-fated phone conversation. “And?” She placed her hands on her hips and purposely kept her tone and expression light. “Are you going to try to foist me off on another trainer again today?”
“Foist? Is that a word?”
“It’s a word. Are you? Going to try to foist me
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