Free Maybe Baby by Andrea Smith Page B

please? There has been an adjustment made to the bonus race line-up this evening. The number seven horse, Jezebel, has been scratched from the competition by the owner. According to racing rules, the horse finishing with the next best time as the horse currently in the gates with the least best time of all the feature race winners this evening is eligible to take the number seven slot. That horse is Socrates. At this time, we ask that Trainer Graham and Jockey T.J. Preston remove Jezebel from the track.”
    I was not only freaked, I was humiliated. Andy was back at my side within seconds, getting Jezebel backed out of the gate, leading us toward the paddock. I ripped my cap and goggles off as we passed Clint escorting Socrates and his jockey up onto the infield area beside the track. I threw him the most hateful look I could muster, too angry to say anything.
    Andy was eerily quiet as he took the reins from me and walked Jezebel into the stables off of the paddock. And then my questions were answered—all of them. Andy handed off Jezebel’s reins to one furiously angry, blue-eyes-blazing Trey.
    Holy Shit.
    Trey dismissed Andy. “I’ll take it from here.”
    Trey quickly untacked Jezebel and led her to her stall. He turned and addressed me, leaning in. I was mere inches from his beautiful, but very angry face. “What do you have to say for yourself T.J. ?” he seethed, putting emphasis on my jockey name.
    I was distraught and humiliated that it had come to this. How could I have been so stupid? Part of me actually thought he might've been pleased about my win. But he'd crushed me with that one show of power.
    “How could you do that?” I could tell my demeanor had entirely thrown him off. He'd expected a fight. He hadn't expected this from me. I couldn't bring myself to argue with him. He had the control. I knew it, he knew it - and that was all that mattered.
    But that's where we were fundamentally different. I had wanted to succeed for him - for Sinclair Stables. I had wanted to show him that in some way I was worthy of his respect - that I wasn't that irresponsible girl that nearly drowned in his pool. Trey wanted something totally different— it was all about control. But why me?
    I looked up at him, searching his eyes for a clue as to why he would embarrass and humiliate me like this. He clearly didn’t care. He gazed down at me, the anger completely gone from his face. It was replaced by something else that was unreadable. It wasn’t pity, regret, or compassion even; it was something I didn’t recognize.
    He put his arms around me and pulled me close. This was no answer. I pushed away from him, pulling off the jockey silks that belonged to Sinclair Stables, holding them out to him. He was confused. He didn’t move.
    “Here take them,” I said, tossing the silks at him. “These belong to you, but nothing else here does."
    The trail back to the cabins was dark; I stumbled several times on the path through the wooded area. Behind me, the racetrack was lit up with a fireworks show, signaling the end of the racing events for this evening.
    Ahead of me, I could finally see porch lights on the bank of cottages. They were all lit except for mine. There was an interior light on inside my cottage that I didn't remember leaving on. As I climbed the steps to my porch, I scanned the row of cabins. Everyone else was out at the track, or partying, or on dates. It was eerily quiet around the row of cottages.
    I reached for my doorknob and it turned freely. I knew for sure that I'd locked it when I left. Fumbling inside on the wall for the light switch, my throat lurched; the bulb in my porch light had been removed. I peered through the front window but saw that nothing seemed out of place inside. I considered going around to the side of the cottage to check the bedroom window.
    Just as I turned around to leave the porch I collided with a hard chest. My heart raced as I started to scream. Strong arms reached for me as I