Page 11 of Winner Takes All

Unable to look at her, he took a long sip of coffee before speaking quietly into the fire, as much to convince himself as her, “Your father only wants the best for you, you know that.”

“I know.”

“Lord Charles is a good match for you in every way.” He prayed she couldn’t hear the jealousy that roughened his voice. “The respectable son of a peer from a powerful family, wealthy enough to maintain a good and stable lifestyle…by all accounts a man who will give you a wonderful life.”

“A life I don’t want. That’s why I need to win.”

“So do I,” he murmured, softly enough that she couldn’t hear.

He sucked in a deep, hard breath. Fate had forced him to make an impossible choice—her future or his?

He straightened, his arm dropping to his side. “I’ll train Midnight to the best of my ability, I promise you that.” He turned and fixed her beneath his gaze, wanting no misunderstanding on this point. “But I’m also going to do everything I can to have my own colt cross the line first. I won’t let my jockey hold him back to give yours an advantage, no matter what agreement you’ve made with your father.”

“I would respect you less if you did.” No doubt lingered in her voice about that. “We’re agreed, then? May the best horse win.”

With a decisive nod, Shaw tossed her father’s letter into the fire and sealed their agreement.

Chapter Four

Frankie shamelessly watched Shaw over the rim of her mug in the late afternoon sunlight that fell through his kitchen window, just as she’d done every afternoon for the past week since he’d agreed to help her. She held the mug against her mouth to hide any traces of her happy smile as the coffee’s warmth seeped through the ceramic and tingled at her lips and fingertips.

Or maybe it was Shaw who made her tingle.

She wouldn’t have doubted it. Even just sitting with him at the kitchen table in his old stone farmhouse prickled an odd excitement across her skin like the wafting of a warm summer breeze.

So far, they’d worked well together in training Midnight. They were of one mind when it came to putting the colt through his paces and increasing both his stamina and his willingness to follow his new exercise boy’s commands. Midnight had tested the lad at first, behaving more like a petulant child than a blue-blooded racehorse, but now the two moved fluidly together. Frankie nearly burst with pride whenever she watched them speed around the track. Shaw saw it, too, and she reveled in the respect he paid to her as a horse breeder.

More—she couldn’t believe how much being around him again and working the horses together felt like old times. Or how much she still ached for him.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t tried to kiss her again.

That lack of attempt twisted knots of confusion inside her. Had the kiss at her uncle’s door been nothing more than a premature kiss goodbye, with Shaw thinking that she’d scratch Midnight from the race and so he’d never have to see her again? Had it been only a bitter reminder of their past mistakes, ones he had no intention of repeating in the present? Or worse…had that kiss confirmed in his mind that he’d been right to leave her all those years ago and not give his departure a second thought?

A frown furrowed her brow. Had he not givenhera second thought?

“You should go home,” he mumbled and reached up to rub his nape. “It’s almost time for supper. The sun’s going to set soon, and your uncle will be waiting on you.”

Yet even as he said that, he didn’t lift his attention from the sheets of paper scattered across the table between them. Each page held a detailed record of everything they knew about the horses entered in the Derby. Bloodlines, trainers, jockeys, observations about the way they’d been exercised during the past week, how they’d reacted to changes in weather and distractions at the track…It was the entire race, laid out on paper. They’d spent their previous afternoons pouring over each one, looking for any weaknesses in their competition.

Now, the afternoon was ending, the sun rapidly sinking toward the horizon, and they’d reached the end of information they’d been able to gather about the other horses. There was no more reason to keep studying the pages, no reason to keep looking for advantages in the race.

And no reason why she wanted to leave.

“Uncle Jonas won’t hold dinner for me,” she assured him. “He’ll gladly feed my portion of the roast to his hounds.” She eased back in her chair and took a long perusal around the kitchen. “Besides, I like it here.”

She did, too. Immensely.

She’d been here every day, from right after their morning training sessions until sunset, when she drove herself back to Uncle Jonas’s on the little gig he’d let her borrow. Only part of the time spent here had gone to discussing Midnight. The rest of it had been spent in other wonderful ways…touring the farm to see where Shaw trained his horses and those he was paid to train for others, watching him work with several of the horses, talking quietly for hours about what they’d each been doing since he’d left Willow Wood. She’d even attempted to cook dinner for him once, only to surrender the idea when she’d nearly caught herself on fire.

She was comfortable here. The place felt like home.

No,hefelt like home.

She waved a hand toward the hearth. “I could stay and cook us dinner. We could—”

“Haul in buckets and buckets of water to put out the new fire?” He didn’t look up, but she could see the smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

She sniffed indignantly. “I barely singed my skirt the last time, I’ll have you know.”