Authors: Bev Pettersen
Backstretch Baby (39 page)
It meant that Eve had to watch her words around Scott and Megan, as they were simply unable to temper their gratitude. When she’d mentioned it would be nice to knock down the kitchen wall and add a sunroom that would open to the verandah, a ten-man construction crew had arrived the very next day. Rick was forever starting jobs that he didn’t have the chance to finish, simply because Scott was falling over himself to help.
She noticed though, that Rick managed to protect the jobs he most enjoyed. He and Scott were always tinkering with the cars and bikes. No outside mechanics allowed. Rick called it male bonding time although she suspected their talks centered around Scott’s firm and his ongoing cases.
Joey laughed, a delighted ringing sound that carried across the field and into the kitchen. She walked to the window, craning her head and scanning the field. Rick had built several turnouts with shaded run-ins so she could walk the horses up the hill and give them a mental break from the track. Joey’s pony, Bubbles, certainly appreciated the company. But when Joey laughed, as he was doing now, it generally meant mischief.
She hurried into the sunroom, still carrying the phone and looking for a window with a better vantage point. “I have to go, Ashley. Joey’s outside and it sounds like he’s having too much fun.”
She cut the connection, relieved it was Tizzy who was visiting Bubbles this week, and not Stinger. She believed Stinger was reformed and deserved a hill visit—he hadn’t bitten anyone in over six months—but Rick remained cautious.
With Tizzy though, it was like Joey had a second babysitter. Joey could lead Bubbles beneath the horse’s belly and Tizzy always stood rock still. Once Miguel had placed a ladder against Tizzy’s back so Joey could climb on. The obliging horse hadn’t even swished his tail. There was no doubt Tizzy had earned his pasture turnout, and Dex and Dani were delighted that the consistent racehorse now enjoyed the best of both worlds.
However, Joey’s high-pitched laugh was a mother’s alarm bell. And she still couldn’t see him, even though the new sunroom gave a panoramic view of most of their property.
But then she caught sight of a man’s broad shoulders, and her tension eased. Rick must have driven up the hill from the track. Now that the fence was gone, it was a scant two-minute drive.
And clearly Rick had been here for a while, long enough to rig up a cat-riding pad. He’d fastened it to Bubbles and Marmalade, the orange cat, perched on the pony’s back. Joey was leading the two of them around the grass, still laughing uproariously. The cat and pony looked surprisingly content with the situation, although all the animals would jump through fire for Rick.
She gave a quick and fervent prayer, something she hadn’t stopped doing since the day Rick led Joey to the back of the ambulance, proving that Joey was really free from Liam’s clutches. Then she waved, knowing they weren’t even looking, but it was just so nice to be able to see her son play. And in the middle of a training day.
The smell of biscuits wafted into the sunroom, and she hurried back into the kitchen, opened the oven and rescued the second pan. Soon it would be time to walk down the hill and check the eight horses in her race barn. But there was no hurry. She’d ridden five this morning—the ones that were racing next week—and Miguel could be relied on to supervise their staff and let her know how each horse was feeling. Besides, life was too busy with friends and family to waste energy fretting.
She didn’t hear the click of the screen door or the sound of his steps, but her skin was tingling before Rick’s hand even touched her waist. She’d grown accustomed to his silent way of moving, but she doubted she’d ever be unaffected by his touch.
“Why are you here?” she asked, placing the spatula on the counter and spinning around. “Aren’t you working this afternoon?”
“Thought I better check the hill for intruders.” He slid his palm over the small of her back then reached out with his other hand and snagged a warm biscuit. “Plus I could smell these way over by the track.”
“I made extra,” she said. “So you can take some back to the guardhouse.”
“The boys will appreciate them. They’ve been burning a lot more calories lately.” He took a big bite, grinning at her as he chewed.
There’d been several changes since Rick accepted the job as head of track security. He’d parked the Jeeps, encouraging the guards to conduct more foot patrols. A few of them even rode bicycles. As a result, relations between the workers and guards were at an all-time high. The ladies who operated Camila’s Corner even cut their hair for free, and for the first time ever, the guards had been invited to enter a team in the caps tournament. Woody, of course, insisted that Rick remain with him.
“Don’t tell Scott about fixing the guest room for your mom,” Rick said. “He’ll have a slew of carpenters in, and that’s something I want to do myself.”
She nodded. While it was great to have Megan and Scott as regular visitors, their generosity was often overwhelming. Since purchasing the farmhouse, Rick had made a lot of improvements, and there were some areas where he simply didn’t want help.
“Joey and I plan to build a dog run tomorrow,” he went on, reaching for the butter dish. “So Megan’s dog has a safe place to hang out. Joey thought a puppy run would be good too…you know, if we have enough material.”
She could tell he was being deliberately casual, and even caught him studying her reaction out of the corner of his eye.
“You two want a puppy?” She gave a mock frown. “So you can train Bubbles to carry a cat and a dog?”
“Saw us, did you?” He chuckled and slathered some butter on a biscuit. But then he sobered. “If Joey’s having fun on the ground, he’s less likely to climb on that pony and get hurt.”
She gave an understanding nod. Bubbles was as bomb proof as any pony could be, but she doubted Rick would ever stop worrying. His therapist thought differently, but Rick was a man who needed to keep things safe. And she loved that about him. Loved everything about him.
“A good dog is important for a farm,” he went on, buttering three biscuits, then wrapping them in a napkin and sticking them in his pocket. She suspected he intended to split the third biscuit between the horse, pony and cat. Joey had already reported, quite proudly, that Bubbles was not a fussy eater.
“A dog can look after you and Joey when I’m working,” Rick added, his eyes on her face.
“I suppose one that barks when people come would be helpful.” She gave an agreeable nod. “Like a poodle or something.”
“A poodle?” His jaw tightened, but only for a second, and if she’d hadn’t been alert, she wouldn’t have caught it. “I was thinking something a bit bigger.”
“But poodles can be big,” she said. “And they’re one of the smartest breeds. A white poodle will stay cool in the heat too, and the ladies could practice their clipping, and you could even take her on your rounds.” She gave a more emphatic nod. “Okay, I’ll tell Joey. A poodle will be great.”
“Maybe we don’t have time for a puppy right now,” he said.
She hid her smile, figuring she’d wait until they were in bed tonight to let him know she’d be happy with any kind of dog, or a pig, or a goat, or maybe they could even adopt something.
But he tilted her head, his eyes twinkling. “I do believe you’re messing with me again, sweetheart.”
Then he smiled and kissed her, his mouth tasting of biscuit and butter, and he made her so deliciously happy, she guessed there’d be a puppy in the house by the end of the week.
He raised his head. “I came up because someone found me a saddle pad that the cat’s claws wouldn’t poke through. But mainly, I wanted a biscuit.”
She sniffed and tried to inch away from the hardness of his gunbelt, but he held her still. “And,” he sobered, “I wanted to tell you how happy you and Joey make me.”
She reached up and touched his smooth jaw. She could hear his heart pounding beneath the crisp khaki, could feel his utter sincerity. And she was filled with such an overwhelming love, there was no way she could make him wait until tonight.
“We can get a puppy,” she said. “I’ll love anything. Even a Rottweiler would be great.”
He stared for a moment, his eyes reflecting her emotion. “Admit it,” he said, his voice gruff. “You just can’t resist a man in uniform.”
Then his head dipped again, and there was really no need to answer.
***
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Backstretch Baby
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Bev Pettersen is a three-time nominee in the National Readers Choice Award as well as a two-time finalist in the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart® Contest. She competed for five years on the Alberta Thoroughbred race circuit and is an Equine Canada certified coach. She lives in Nova Scotia with her family and when not writing novels, she’s riding. Visit her at
http://www.bevpettersen.com
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