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Seventy-seven points. The news punched Drew in the gut. The score was enough to slip into the finals but just barely.
“Good job, baby,” Drew said, not one to blame her horse for her own mistakes. “Don’t you worry. We’ll kick some ass in the next round.”
The horse stomped one foot as if to say, “Hell, yeah!”
Drew gave a light squeeze of her heels in the stirrups, all that was needed to let Stormy know it was time to return through the gate, where a good brushing and some apple slices would be his well-earned reward for the day. She pressed her hat firmly onto her head as they left the arena but resisted the urge to turn and search the woman out in the crowd. Giving into temptation would get her nowhere.
Once they were through the gate and out of sight of the crowd, Drew dismounted and led Stormy the rest of the way back to his stall. Dejection weighed her down a little more with each step.
“Tough run.” Cord took the reins from her, graciously refraining from sayingtold you so.
“He hesitated at the turn. Damned if I know why, but I should’ve caught it sooner and eased him out of it.” Drew scratched the side of Stormy’s face, right in the spot that made the sleek Arabian practically turn into a puddle of horsey joy. “I’m going to see if I can get a couple extra practice slots for this evening, run through all the sequences again until the routine’s flawless.”
Cord nodded in silence. Either he hadn’t seen the incident with the hat or he was too polite to mention it. Probably the latter. Nothing got by the old codger.
“Horses are like women,” he said, reaching for a curry brush and testing the stiffness of the bristles with the tip of his gnarled finger before handing it to her. It was an odd comment, and Drew wondered if maybe he wasn’t too polite to bring up the hat incident after all, and especially the woman who’d caught it. Drew preferred not to discuss either. She didn’t relish being mortified.
“I’m starting to see why Sylvie left you, old man, if your idea of smooth talking was telling her she reminded you of a horse.” It was the type of gentle ribbing the two of them engaged in all the time back on the ranch, but Drew stopped short, concerned her own foul mood had pushed her too far, and she’d hit a sore spot. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s all right.” He let out a low, gentle laugh. “After twenty-six years, I can laugh about it. What I meant was horses need to be pampered sometimes. Work ’em too hard, and they wear out. You give ’em a little bit of fun, some nice treatment, and they’ll end up working harder in the long run.”
Drew’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m working Stormy too hard?”
“I think you’re working yourself too hard, young lady.”
“Oh. Well.” Drew’s shoulders shook with quiet laughter. “Next time I’m in Beverly Hills, I’ll be sure to book myself a mani-pedi.”
“Joke all you want, but you’re in Las Vegas right this minute, and all you can think about is getting in some extra practice hours.” Cord gave Stormy a look that suggested he expected the horse to take his side. “Maybe if you gave yourself some time off and lived a little, you’d end up in better shape for the next round than if you work yourself into the ground.”
There was a small part of Drew that knew Cord had a point, but she was too stubborn to admit it, even to herself. If Drew had ever learned to sew properly, she would’ve embroidered herself a pillow with the mottoI’ll rest when I’m deadon it. Hard work was the one thing she could get her head around, and her belief in it paying off was right up there with any religious creed.
“I appreciate the advice, but I’m here all by myself, and I don’t think any of the casinos or shows will let me bring a horse as a date. Unless you’re asking me out.” Drew cocked an eyebrow, chuckling at the way it made the old man blush. “I mean, you’re not my usual type, but—”
“But that girl out in the audience sure is.” Cord couldn’t have looked smugger if he’d tried.
“Damn it.” Drew kept her eyes focused on Stormy’s coat, taking long strokes with the brush. “I knew you were too sharp to have missed that.”
“My eyesight’s not what it was, but they had the replay up on that jumbotron. I didn’t need glasses to see how you looked at her, kiddo.”
“Jumbotron?”Fuck. That meant the entire arena had seen it.“I don’t know what you think you saw, old timer, but she’s just a stranger who handed me my hat.”
“Bet we could find her in about five minutes if you dropped the stubborn routine and asked for some help.” Cord crossed his arms, offering a look of challenge. “Go wait out by the main doors and catch her when she leaves. Offer to buy her a drink for rescuing that tattered piece of shit you insist on wearing on your head.”
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be creepy. And this happens to be my lucky hat.” As Drew placed a protective hand on the top of her beloved hat, an image formed in her head of doing exactly what Cord had suggested. She gave her head a brisk shake, chasing the picture away. “Maybe that kind of thing worked back in your day, but times have changed.”
“Not as much as you whippersnappers like to think.” His use of the wordwhippersnapperwas a big clue Cord wasn’t taking this conversation too seriously, which was probably why Drew let him continue instead of shutting it down. “You meet a girl you like, you ask her out. Simple.”
“Yes, well, unlike when you were young and could just hit ’em over the head with a club and drag ’em back to your cave, nowadays it’s a good idea to make sure your interest is reciprocated first.”
“Oh, I think it was.” Cord tapped a finger below one eye, giving Drew a knowing look. “I know what I saw.”
“That’s—” Drew cleared her throat, surprised to find it dry and scratchy. “You know, I probably could use a drink.”
“See?” Cord grinned. “Now you’re being smart.”
“Of water. By myself.” Drew put the brush back in the box and checked Stormy’s feed and water supplies before reaching to open the stall. She motioned for Cord to go first. “If you wanna go cruising for some action, you go right ahead. I’m going to book that extra practice time like I said and then head upstairs to my room for a hot shower.”
Cord sighed. “Youth is wasted on the young.”
