Willow Smoke (15 page)

“Boring! There’s as much
strategy in
baseball
as
in
horse
racing.
Hell,
there’s
strategy
in
anything
worth
pursuing.”

Daisy
grinned
broadly,
reached
over
and
squeezed
his
thigh, then
placed
her
other
hand
on
his
neck
and
her
lips
close
to
his
ear.
“Old
man,
you
overwhelm
me
with
wisdom far beyond my years. I’ll bet
there’s
a
lot
more
you
could
share,
if
you
wanted
to.”

Covering
her
hand
with
his,
Nick
lifted
it
and
returned it to her lap. His fingers
brushed
her
inner
thigh;
he
jerked
away
as
if
he’d
been
singed
by
a
blazing
fire.

He
awkwardly
rose
from
his
seat.
“I’ve
got to
make
a
call.
You
want
anything
more
to eat?”

“No,
I’m
fine.
You’re
not
going
to
leave
me
here
alone
for
long
are
you?”

Nick
sighed;
his
shoulders
slouched.
“Kid,
I
don’t
have
the
faintest
idea
what
I’m
going
to
do
with
you.”

- o -

Stomping
up
the
stairs
toward
the
restrooms,
Nick
hoped
his
erection
wasn’t
too
damned
obvious.
What
the
hell
had
gotten
into
Willow
today?
There
was
no
question
what
she
was
after.
At
least
he
didn’t
think
there
was.
Though
the
only
truth
about
women
he’d
learned
was
that
not
one
of
them
was
predictable.

She
was
too
young.
But
dammit,
he
was
a
man.
Why
would
she
want
to
risk
their
partnership
with
romance?
The
only
place
romance
ended
up
was
broken
hearts
or
strained
goodbyes.

It
wasn’t
that
he
didn’t
find
her
attractive.
She
was
damn
sexy.
There
was
no
difficulty
imagining
her
body
entangled
with
his.
Earlier, at
her apartment, he’d
wanted
to
run
his
tongue
over
her
lips
and
explore
the
interior of her mouth. That
slight
overbite
intrigued
him.
It
had
possibilities
that
only
made
him
grow
harder.

So
what
was
holding
him
back?
Age.
Pure
and simple. But if it didn’t matter to her,
why
should
it
matter
to
him?
He
had
no
answer.
When
he
looked
at
her,
he
only
saw
Willow:
vibrant,
bright,
captivating.
What
did
she
see
when
she
looked
at
him?

Maybe
it
hadn’t
been
a
good
idea
to
drop
by
her
apartment.
He’d
wanted
to
see
her
laugh.
He
chewed
a
fingernail.
Damn,
the
track
was
a
safer
place.

- o -

“You
better
stand
aside
unless
you
want
to
get
soaked.”
Daisy,
up
to
her
armpits in
soap
suds,
sprayed
water
over
the
bay
gelding’s
back
and
down
his
flanks.
He’d
just
run
second
in
a
claiming
race
for
horses
who
had
not
won
three
races
in
their
lifetime.

Nick
moved
away
from
the
splattering
water.
“So
should
we
try
to
claim
a
horse
like
him?”

Daisy
straightened
and
assessed
the
horse
as
if
for
the
first
time.
Without
glancing
at
Nick,
she
returned
to
her
task
of
bathing
the
animal.
“Depends
on
how
much
you
want
to
spend
and
at
what
level
you
want
to compete. This guy is a
twenty
thousand
dollar
claimer
who
is
earning
his
keep,
barely.”

“What if I wanted to buy
four more
horses
to
go
along
with
Blaze?
Using
her
as
the
foundation,
let’s
think
of
two
horses
better
than
she
is
and
two
maybe
not
as
good.
Diversification is the key to the stock
market; I don’t know about the horse
business.”

Daisy
walked
over
to
the
spigot
and
turned
off
the
water.
Returning,
she
began
scraping
excess
water
from
Rocky’s
coat.
“Probably
as
good
as
any
strategy.
You’d
be
competing
at
different
levels,
maybe
trying
to
find
your
niche.”

“How do I start?”

“You
already
have.
You’ve
been
studying
pedigrees
and
watching
horses
work
on
the
track.
I
imagine
you
wouldn’t
want
to
go
below
thirty-five-thousand
dollar
claimers.
A
horse
will
go
up
or
down
the
claiming
ranks.
He
may
become
an
allowance
horse,
or
he
may
wind
up
running
for
a
five
thousand
dollar
tag
and
we’ll
hope
someone
claims
him.
But...”

“That’s
horseracing.”

“Exactly.
As
far
as
the
upper
end
goes,
it
really
depends
on
how
much
you
want
to
spend.
I
would
recommend
easing
into
the
game.
If
Rainbow
is
worth
a
hundred
thousand,
maybe
you
could
double
that.”

“Or triple it. Remember
you always bet a little light from my perspective.”

Daisy
dropped
the
scraper
in
a
bucket
and
glared
at
Underwood.
“Don’t
count
on
that.”

Nick
pursed
his
lips
and
squinted
at
her.

Aware
of
his
confusion,
Daisy
smiled inwardly
and
wondered
if
maybe
she
was
learning
a
few
things
about
seductive
repartee.
He’d
certainly
been
quiet
when
they’d returned from the Cubs game. He hadn’t even bothered to
come into her apartment but begged off, saying he had to get back to his
factory. No matter. She
was
beginning
to
enjoy
this
game.
She’d
heard
people
tell
stories
about
landing
a
big
fish.
Maybe
Underwood
was
her
big
fish.