Biding Her Time. Wendy Warren
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He looks better, he smells better, and he keeps better company.
When she noted the humor in his gaze, she let go of his hand as if it had burst into flame. Setting her jaw, Audrey gave him a tough, take-no-prisoners glare.
From the age of nine until well into her teens, she’d been sick and skinny and deathly pale beneath her freckles. In her experience, people reacted to sick children by coddling or pitying or pretending not to notice them. Most of the time, she’d felt out of step with her peers, so she’d trailed her dad around the stables and got to know horses better than people. She’d also learned to act a lot tougher than she was, turning into a real snot when she sensed disapproval or condescension.
So now she embraced the dirt and the calluses and the perspiration, her styleless clothing and the lack of makeup, and sent her gaze on a lazy trip down his body and back up again. Sniffing as if he was the one who smelled bad, she drawled, “You sure are dressed pretty for a stroll through a stable. Hope you got the memo about watching where you step.”
Good teeth showed in a calculating smile. “I stand forewarned. And thank you for the compliment.” He inclined his head. “I have a great admiration, too, for people like you who put so much care into their… horses’ grooming.” He’d paused just long enough to make his inference crystal clear.
Clear to Audrey, at any rate. Jenna didn’t seem to notice. Before Audrey could think of a comeback, Jenna said, “Audrey has a natural touch with horses. She’s an excellent farrier.”
Aussie Ken’s brows rose. Either he was surprised or doubtful, or he didn’t know what a farrier was. She chose the last interpretation just for the fun of it.
“That means I shoe the nice ponies.” She offered the explanation kindly, as if she were talking to a toddler.
She managed to curl the edges of his smile. “I’m familiar with the term.”
A calculating light gleamed behind the blue eyes, and Audrey felt her anticipation spike as she wondered whether he’d give her a decent run for her money.
“It’s an interesting occupation for a—” Once more he paused, this time furrowing his brow as if he couldn’t quite find the right word. “—woman.”
Dang!
Round One to Aussie Ken.
“I think we’ll let you get on with your work now, Audrey.” Becoming aware of the crackle between her nephew and her employee, but not at all sure what to make of it, Jenna verbally stepped between them. “You two can get to know each other better at lunch. Twelve o’clock sharp.”
Taking Shane’s arm and giving Audrey a bemused look over her shoulder, Jenna guided her nephew on through the stable.
Short of a natural disaster, it looked as if she was having lunch with the Prestons and their nephew. Audrey expected her stomach to clench, but felt it growl instead. Bantering with him must have burned up a few calories.
Absently patting Biding’s neck, Audrey chewed her lip. Over the years, she had carved out a place for herself among the largely male population of Quest by learning to compete. At pool, at darts, with words—she gave as good as she got. Often better.
She felt a fluttering in her blood that made her feel more alive than she had all year. What harm could come from trading a few quips? Putting the pretty boy in his place? Shane Preston was a challenge, and her life up to this point had pretty much addicted her to a dare.
A grin stretched across her lips. Picking up her tools, Audrey gave the gray filly a pat on her rump. “Okay, Biding, let’s get this shoe on the road. It seems I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”
Chapter Three
Audrey was showered and dressed in a fresh pair of jeans when she lifted the brass doorknocker that reminded her of a ring through a bull’s nose. She’d plaited her hair in a French braid this time—simple enough as it hung down her back, but a nod to the fact that she was dining somewhere more upscale than the inside of a stall.
Audrey smiled as the Prestons’ housekeeper answered the door and directed her to the patio that lay beyond the elegant white French doors off the dining room.
She had brought Seamus with her, and he followed her as far as the dining room, which was set with a stunning array of white-on-white china, and crystal that gleamed in the sun-kissed room. A polished cherrywood coffee trolley was already set with two glossy silver pots plus a four-tier dessert tree presenting an assortment of miniature cakes and truffles. Everything in the Prestons’ home bespoke of a lifestyle made luxurious by financial success.
What would happen to a family used to the finer things in life, if their current troubles proved powerful enough to crumple what they’d built?
There were people, certainly, who would be glad to watch a successful racing family lose at something. Even within the organization, there were always one or two dissenters intent on resenting the very people who signed their paychecks, but Audrey would never be one of them. She admired the Prestons. They worked hard, and at least one of them—Robbie, the youngest son—played hard, but you’d never see them throwing around their money or their power; they simply weren’t that way.
On top of that, they’d been good to her. Shortly after she and her dad had moved in—a single father and a skinny, morose-looking preteen who had recently lost her mother and most of her trust in the world—then eighteen-year-old Melanie Preston had arrived with a basket of food and books for Audrey that would have made any welcoming committee feel miserly by comparison. Quickly following his sister’s visit, sixteen-year-old Robbie had stopped by to see if any necessary repairs had been noted around the cottage.
When Audrey was sick and stayed home from school for weeks on end, the impromptu visits and special care packages continued and no one had ever made her feel like an extra appendage around the place, even when she surely had been one.
Standing now at the entrance to the dining room, with Seamus sniffing longingly in the direction of the coffee trolley, Audrey hoped that the ambiguity surrounding the breeding of Leopold’s Legacy would soon be resolved, preferably before she left the Prestons.
She ruffled the fur around Seamus’s neck. “Go find your bed, boy, and have a little nap.”
Sadly aware that the dining room was off-limits, the wolfhound turned and trudged off toward the family room where his bed awaited him.
Audrey moved toward the French doors, their glass panes veiled by sheer white curtain panels that allowed in a dreamy, filtered light.
Turning one brass door handle, she let herself out to a wide brick patio dotted with umbrellas that provided big circles of welcoming shade.
Despite a discomfiting hitch of nervousness, Audrey thought she’d managed to walk onto the patio as if she fit in fine with her surroundings.
Jenna and Shane stood by the patio balustrade, listening to Brent Preston, eldest son and head trainer at the stables, while the three of them looked out onto one of the paddocks. Brent’s sister, Melanie, and their father, Thomas, were having an animated discussion next to the hors d’oeuvres. Melanie had a glass of iced tea in one hand and a mini ham-and-cheese biscuit in the other. She waved the biscuit when she saw Audrey.
“Come here. I’m telling Dad about Something to Talk About. Audrey, isn’t he a beaut? Have you noticed his expression right before he gallops? He’s the most naturally ambitious horse I’ve ever seen. And he tunes in so well to people. He’s a total flirt. I bet he’ll win just to show off for me.”
Thomas watched his daughter with a heartwarming blend of affection and consternation. Horses had been in his blood before they’d ever become his livelihood. He’d lived and breathed racing long before his children had been a glimmer in his eye. He was an old-time track man, however, and the idea that a racehorse of any worth would win or lose depending on his affection for a jockey was pushing the boundaries of his belief system. There were still plenty of people, Audrey knew, who did