Free Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) by Bev Pettersen Page B

kind too; she’d noticed his easy way with Martin. She might have been interested in him, if they’d met outside the track. If she actually dated.
    She flipped her reins to the other side of Ace’s neck, switching her thoughts to more important things. Like racing this evening. It would be a big night, although she wasn’t going to agonize about weather and post positions and the competition. No more mental lapses like she had with the filly. The manure pile incident and subsequent teasing were too fresh, and her reputation couldn’t take another hit.
    At least Kurt was giving her a chance, especially generous considering the way she’d lost her temper, and for that she was grateful.
    They walked in companionable silence to the gap where he removed Ace’s lead. “You have about twenty minutes before the starter calls you. Give him a sightseeing tour, then warm him up with a slow lap. Slow,” he repeated.
    She nodded and walked Ace onto the track, letting him check out his surroundings before moving into a jog and then a canter.
    Fifty feet past the grandstand, the wind tossed a vagrant cowboy hat and the gelding's ears pinned forward, tracking the straw hat as it stalled and flipped. He didn’t spook or try to bolt, and she murmured her approval. Some horses would have gone bonkers, Bill Chandler's Princess for one. But Julie was riding quality horses now, horses trained by an expert. She no longer had Bill's business, but her riding prospects had definitely improved.
    She heard a shout, garbled by the wind, and glanced at the chute. The starter, a figure of absolute authority, gestured at the horses scheduled for gate approvals.
    “Bring him in,” an outrider relayed.
    She trotted Ace toward the starting gate, joining two other horses that circled behind the gate. A score of people lingered by the rail, Otto included. He often watched gate work, although she suspected he really wanted to see an accident. She jerked her head away from his insolent eyes.
    A wide-eyed chestnut was called first. The assistant starter reached up to guide the filly in, but she planted her feet. Undaunted, the loading crew turned her in three circles until she was inches from the opening. Two men stepped behind her, hooked their arms together and pushed her in the slot.
    Ace was called next. He sidled up, ears flat, attention pinned on the looming gate. Too nervous, he rushed in, clipping the assistant's heels. The man cursed and jumped on the tiny ledge. His gnarly fingers wrapped around the bridle as he cranked Ace’s head to the left.
    Clang! The door slammed shut, the noise vibrating through the entire gate. Ace charged forward but there was no place to go. He waited, trembling, and pressed against the grill. Julie stroked his sweaty neck, trying to calm him, but the shivers didn’t stop.
    Thud . A man hollered and she peered over her shoulder. The last horse to load, a chestnut colt, was full of fight, and soapy lather coated his neck. He whirled, knocking his handler down, flecking the air with specks of white. The colt plunged away, but his rider—she knew him only as Joe—pulled him around before he could bolt.
    Furious, the horse bucked high and hard, hurling the rider over his shoulder. Joe landed catlike on his feet and managed to keep a grip on a rein.
    Julie straightened, determined to ignore the ruckus. She adjusted her goggles, wrapped her hands around a thick clump of Ace's mane and waited. When the gates opened she needed to be ready for an explosion of speed. Or risk the ignominy of being left behind, sitting in the dirt.
    Beneath her, Ace trembled, claustrophobic and resenting the enclosure. His earlier poise had crumbled, and his inexperience showed. He scrambled against the closed door, striking it with a hoof, unnerving them both with the loud clang.
    She shot another glance over her shoulder, willing them to hurry. Ace felt like a time bomb, and the filly next to them was beginning to fret too.
    The gate crew