• Twenty-Five •

“Please don’t let my brother hear you call his horse sweet boy.”

Capri

Jerking the lid off my outside garbage can, I tossed the box of cookies inside before slamming it closed and stalking back inside the house. Two days in a row, I’d woken up to those freaking cookies. If he wanted to keep buying them and leaving them, then fine. Do it. I wasn’t taking the bait. He had made his point. I wasn’t going to give him the entertainment of my acting stupid over him anymore.

If Shephard Ranch wanted me to ride for them in a race, then I would. That was all the interaction I intended to have with Thatcher. He had made me want things that weren’t in my grasp. Well, he didn’t like virgins. The fact that I was going to stop waiting for the right guy and get it over with did not mean I was doing it for Thatcher. When I was experienced, I didn’t believe he’d want me then either. I would need to grow about seven more inches and get a boob job.

Shutting that door. Moving on.

Tomorrow night was the concert in Atlanta with Tyron, and I was excited about it. I needed it. This week had been awful, and knowing I had that to look forward to helped me get through each day. I’d decided not to run today, and I’d made an appointment for a massage at a spa in Buckhead. Esther was going, too, and we were going to enjoy the facilities that came with booking an appointment there. I was in need of the sauna and the quiet pool. The no talking or phones rule for the indoor pool was heaven. Although the quiet pool was Esther’s least favorite thing there. Maybe today, I could use her endless chatter to keep out of my own head, so we might skip that.

My phone rang as I walked back inside the house. I pulled it out of my pocket to see Sebastian’s name on the screen. Hoping this was business and not him checking up on me, I tapped Accept.

“Hello?” I answered, closing my door and locking it behind me.

“Good morning, Capri,” he replied. “Miller asked me to give you a call and see if you are ready to come back and ride Zephyr. We are looking for a new exercise rider and haven’t found one just yet. We were hoping you’d be up for that until we filled the position.”

Frowning, I stopped walking. Did he mean he wanted me to come in daily and exercise all the thoroughbreds?

“Well, I, uh, had plans today. What time were you thinking? And what happened to Christopher?”

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Whatever time you can be here. I’m going to also be doing some exercise runs with them. I just need help getting to them all every day until we hire someone knew. And, uh, Christopher decided to take a job somewhere else.”

I couldn’t imagine that Christopher had found a better-paying job with nicer stables. That was odd. Why would he do that? Most stables paid around twenty to forty dollars to exercise a horse for thirty to forty minutes. Shephard Ranch paid eighty dollars a horse for thirty minutes daily. I’d asked Christopher this once, and he’d said it was the best gig he’d ever had. He was exclusive to the Shephards, and they even covered his health insurance. When I had worked as an exercise rider, I’d gone to two different stables every day and worked. I’d been required to have my own insurance, too, before they hired me.

“I can be there by two if that’s okay. How many horses will I be riding today?”

“Since you’re the jockey, I’m going to leave the ones that will be racing for you. I’ll handle the others. Miller suggested you ride Bloodline, Pharaoh, Nemesis, and Zephyr, and Storm asked if you would take Poseidon out. He isn’t going to be able to get here today.”

I would need a massage after all the riding. Not before. I wondered if I could move my appointment until later and go to the ranch now. If not, I would just cancel and reschedule.

“Okay, I am going to move my appointment and come there now if that’s okay,” I told him.

“Yeah, that’s great if it’s better for you.”

“It is,” I replied.

“All right then. Thanks, Capri. We appreciate it. I know you’re not an exercise rider, but when it comes to our best horses, we require a lot. Hiring just anyone to ride them isn’t an option. We will pay you two hundred a horse a day. Will that work for you?”

Two hundred a horse?! That was entirely too much. I would make a thousand dollars today for a few hours of riding. I couldn’t let them do that. Even if they were filthy rich.

“That’s too much, Sebastian. I appreciate that y’all believe I’m worth that, but I don’t require to be paid that much. I am good with whatever you paid Christopher.”

There was a brief pause, and then he sighed. “All right, if that’s what you want.”

“It is,” I assured him.

I could not in good conscience take that kind of money for getting to ride on champion thoroughbreds. It was good practice for me too. Especially getting to ride Poseidon. That was rare. Normally, Storm was the only one who rode him. Thatcher was the only one I’d seen on Zephyr other than myself. I wondered if he’d be there. Not that I cared. I wasn’t caring about where he was or wasn’t anymore.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” Sebastian said.

“Bye,” I replied before ending the call.

Now, I had to call and reschedule and then let Esther know. She was gonna be pissed, but this was work. With no other stables calling me to ride for them and my future races with the Shephard Ranch in question, I needed to do this. The more valuable I made myself to them, the more likely I’d be riding Zephyr in the Bing Crosby Stakes.

I slowed Zephyr as we came around the track one last time. Sebastian was on the other side of the fence, along with Miller. They’d had me take him to warm up, then go full speed. I know it was faster than anything I’d done on Bloodline, but I didn’t know exactly how much faster. My heart was racing from the thrill of the ride.

Leaning down, I patted the side of Zephyr. “That’s a good boy,” I told him. “You were incredible.”

He raised his head and snorted, as if to agree with me. I smiled as I led him over to the fence in front of the other men.

“Sixty-seven-point-three.” Miller was beaming as I came to a stop.

“Are you serious?” I asked, gaping at him.

“That was fucking fire!” Sebastian said, grinning and shaking his head in disbelief.

I ran my hands over Zephyr’s neck. “Did you hear that? You’re lightning, sweet boy.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Please don’t let my brother hear you call his horse sweet boy.”

I glanced up at him. “Zephyr belongs to Thatcher?” I had assumed he’d been a purchase for the stables.

Sebastian nodded. “Yeah. Dad wanted him, but it took Thatcher going to Blaise and convincing him to sell. Thatcher made the deal, paid the money. Zephyr races under Shephard Ranch, but in races, his owner will be stated as Thatcher Shephard. Just like Poseidon’s owner is Storm.”

“Who does Bloodline belong to then?” I asked, curious.

“Shephard Ranch,” he replied, grinning.

“Pharaoh?”

“Shephard Ranch.”

“Nemesis?”

“Shephard Ranch.”

“Do you and King not have a horse?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I’ve not come across one I want to purchase yet. When the day comes, I will. King has had horses in the past, but currently, he has no horses that are racing. He has a former champion who is retired.”

I smiled, then realizing who that was. “King’s Cowboy.”

Sebastian nodded. “That’s him. Nice and spoiled in his own little corner of the stables.”

“What about Georgia Outlaw?” I asked. I knew the colt was under two years old, and I’d seen him being worked with by King and Miller on occasion. His dark brown coloring was almost chocolate.

“I guess he could be considered King’s. King’s Cowboy sired him before he was retired completely. However, King didn’t put his name down as owner. Shephard Ranch is listed.”

I dismounted and gave Zephyr one last bit of love before handing the reins to Miller, who had climbed over the fence.

“We got them all?” I asked Sebastian.

He nodded. “Yeah, I am taking Sword out later, but that will be it. I had Derek take out the boarders earlier. We don’t have any of them racing soon, and when one is, their owners will pay for the exercise riders. We won’t worry about them right now.”

“Okay, well, if that’s it, I’m going to head out,” I told him.

He nodded. “You good with early tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you at seven.”

The earlier, the better. I needed to have plenty of time to get ready for my night out.

Unable to help myself, I did a scan of the area on my way to the car. I could lie and say I wasn’t looking for Thatcher, but I was. His not being here was strange. He normally showed up when Zephyr was involved. If he was making a point to stay away from me, then sending me the stupid cookies defeated the purpose. Somehow, he’d managed to make me hate my favorite treat. The sight of them now reminded me of the fact that Thatcher pitied me. He didn’t want to touch me, but he was sorry about it. Like he wanted to ease the pain by giving me cookies. Being a virgin did not mean I was mentally a child.