If Rachel thought winning on Static Alarm had been the most amazing day of her life, it had nothing on winning the Makybe Diva Stakes on Darnation. The opportunity came thanks to the owners of Darnation being upset with his previous loss, ironically in the race where she’d ridden Static Alarm to beat him. The owners had moved Darnation to Shelley Twayne’s stable, and given her the chance to ride him. She’d first been legged up on him on Thursday morning at trackwork, and again yesterday. Not much time to get acquainted with him before the big race, but when the gap opened up with ten strides to go, and she pushed him through it, he responded with everything. Nothing beat the sheer exhilaration of seeing the empty green grass between a horse’s ears and knowing that you’d crossed the line in first place.
All the hoofbeats and cheering faded as the gap opened, and she had leaned down close against Darnation’s neck. His mane whipped against her cheeks as she asked him to push through the gap, and he responded, his huge lungs drawing in oxygen and his body stretching out towards the finish line. On her outside, another horse ranged up beside her, and she waved her whip in the air between Darnation and the other horse to keep it from leaning on Darnation. She felt her whip brush the other jockey’s leg, a measure of how close they were as they surged together to the line. Darnation’s head was still in front as they passed the finishing post. A few strides after the post, Rachel relaxed and let Darnation slow his speed naturally, allowing him to pull up without risk of injury. The jockey on the second horse leaned over and yelled his congratulations, and she turned her head to thank him with the biggest grin possible on her face. The reins and her whip in one hand, she ran the other gently down Darnation’s mane. She patted his neck and told him what a good horse he was, whispered in his ear what a marvellous horse he was. Everything you’d want, brave, fast, willing, tough—there weren’t enough adjectives to describe him. By the time they reached the back straight, Darnation had slowed to a loose trot, nice and even, and the journalist on horseback had reached them.
‘Congratulations. How good was that! Is this your first Group One win?’
She refused to let his ill-informed comment steal the joy of her win, ‘My second. I won the Memsie on Static Alarm a fortnight ago.’
‘And now you have a second on Darnation. Talk me through the run.’
‘To win on the big stage, in front of everyone, is an amazing feeling. All credit to Darnation—he took the gap when I asked and kept finding when the second horse came up beside him.’
‘The trainer, Shelley Twayne, had a good chat with you in the mounting yard. What is it like to ride for her?’
‘Amazing. I’m so pleased to get the result after she gave me the opportunity to ride Darnation. I know punters were disappointed with his run, against Static Alarm a fortnight ago, but he brought his A game this week. I think they’ve seen the real Darnation today.’ Rachel deliberately avoided the controversial change of stables and patted the big horse again. He’d earned his carrots today.
‘See that big grandstand over there. Now you get to go into the winner’s circle and enjoy this victory.’ The journalist put away his microphone, and Rachel trotted Darnation back to scale. The strapper clipped on the lead rope, and soon she found herself inside a media swarm. She had no idea what she’d said to the cameras shoved in her face as she’d unsaddled the big bay horse. She’d taken an extra moment to make sure she had all her gear before walking the few steps to weigh in, and once the all clear was given, she’d been overwhelmed by more microphones, and journalists all yelling questions.
‘This is your first ride on Darnation. Are you grateful for the opportunity?’
Rachel nodded, ‘Yes, of course, it is an honour to ride a horse of Darnation’s quality. My agent, Matthew—’
The next question cut off her thanks, ‘That was pretty impressive. He’s a nice horse, isn’t he?’
‘Darnation has always shown talent, he was the deserved favourite, and he just kept finding the line today,’ she said.
‘Talk us through the run. He looked like he might get beaten on the post.’
‘No, he travelled really well, and I honestly thought we were the winners from a long way out. Yanko’s Bride kept finding on the outside of us, but Darnation dug deep and found enough to win,’ she said.
‘That was quite a small gap he dove through to win.’
‘Yes, he’s something quite special and he responded when I asked him for the effort.’
‘You only got the ride because regular jockey Brad Jenkins is injured. Why do you think you deserve any credit for this win?’
Rachel gasped, ‘Sir, that question is unfair, and I’d like to enjoy this moment first, thanks.’
‘On that note, Darnation hasn’t been the punter’s friend lately.’
‘Yes, I watched his whole career after accepting this ride as well as rode him in work to get a good handle on him. He’s improved a ton since last year, you know colts can be a bit inconsistent when they are younger, and Darnation seems to have put it together a bit more now. He’s always had the talent.’
The next question was cut off as the protest siren rang out. Rachel’s shoulders slumped as the clamour from the media grew. She held up her hand, thankful they’d covered this situation at apprentice school years ago.
‘I’m sorry. No further comments.’
She gathered all her gear and headed towards the jockey’s room. The loudspeaker confirmed the protest of second versus first, and she ran back over the final furlong of the race. Yanko’s Bride had leaned on Darnation, not the other way, if anything she was impeded by the second horse. If the world was fair, the placings should stand. But it was her and a female trainer against the racing world, so anything was possible. Shit. She rolled her shoulders and pushed open the door to the jockey’s room, so she could put her saddle and helmet away before facing the steward’s inquiry.
Rachel finally finished up the day’s work and wandered over to the public stand to see Jacob and his team mates.
‘Hey, Lawless, is that your new missus?’ Rachel heard one of Jacob’s team mates say in an overly loud, too-many-drinks voice, as she approached the group. Lawless? She could only see the back of his head, so missed his expression. She didn’t know what expression she’d want to see on his face—pretty much everything was going to be wrong after the kiss that wouldn’t go away.
No matter how much she tried to convince herself that it was the right thing not to bounce into bed with him, the buzz from one kiss sung like a good memory on her skin. She’d tried to wash it off in the shower, and only ended up pleasuring herself with thoughts of Jacob’s mouth on her where her own fingers played. Was she just rebounding after the shock of Lisa’s cheating? Or was there really something in this electrical connection between her and Jacob? Shit. If it wasn’t for the horses, she wouldn’t have been able to focus today with all this mess soaring around her head. The moment she swung up onto a horse, every other thought disappeared, and it was always just the two of them in partnership. Complete clarity of mind for the ten minutes jogging down to the start, utter focus on every stride for the two minutes of the race, every hoofbeat mattered as they galloped together among the field. And the moment of victory, when all she could see was the horse’s ears and green, green grass—nothing could beat the surge of adrenaline. Not even the best kiss in her extensive history of kisses. Well, fuck. So much for clarity of thought. She blew out a sharp breath as she joined their group.
‘Hey boys, did you enjoy your day out?’ She’d won the feature race, she could afford to be happy-go-lucky no matter what they thought of her.
‘Yeah, thanks for the tickets.’
‘It’s been great.’
‘Congratulations on the big win.’
‘Thank you, everyone. A shame about the loss last night, you guys had a cracking season.’ She smiled. A random comment about her being Jacob’s girlfriend couldn’t ruin her mood.
‘I bet on Darnation. Tops outcome.’ One of Jacob’s team mates stuck his hand out and she shook it. ‘I’m Willem, but they all call me The Palace.’ He had the most amazing icy blue eyes that somehow managed to look happy even though the colour was cold.
‘You did so well in there,’ Jacob said.
‘Thanks.’
‘The big win makes up for Jacob’s knee.’ The Palace nodded in Jacob’s direction and he shrugged. She’d sent him a commiseration text after the game, and he hadn’t responded. And now his mates labelled her as being with him—how little did they know? Unless they could see the chemistry hovering between them? Shit, she had to stop second-guessing herself. She’d never done that before, always just leaped in feet first. This waiting game was messing with her head. Why was she doing this to herself? She breathed in. To make sure she didn’t end up with another fuckwit, that’s why. Sometimes the bravest thing was not to leap without looking.
‘I have a few months to rest it now,’ Jacob said, dismissively. Rachel glanced askance at him, and his return look said later. She blinked away the crap racing around her head and tried to focus on the conversation.
‘I thought you did a great job in there. It’s amazing how they televise the protests like that. It was pretty brutal,’ The Palace said.
Rachel agreed, ‘It was a nonsense protest. Anyone could see that Yanko’s Bride laid in on Darnation. It’s annoying that it took the stewards so long to figure that out.’ Rachel didn’t want to ruin Jacob’s team mates’ day with a rant about the male domination of the racing industry. Or ruin her own day. She’d already wasted too much of the day stressing about Jacob, rather than just enjoying the thrill of winning. Besides, they were all blokes, they wouldn’t get it anyway. She rubbed the corner of her eye.
‘Are you okay?’ Jacob asked.
‘Yeah, just tired. It’s been a big day.’ Having to fight to keep her Group One win really sapped her energy levels, it was damned exhausting having to prove that she’d done everything right, had been on the better horse, and had won fairly. And then to discover …
‘Hey,’ The Palace butted into her thoughts, ‘Who was that guy beside you outside the protest room?’
‘Why?’ She really didn’t want to spend any more time thinking about fucking Driscoll, who’d spat abuse at her while making threatening gestures with his arms. Shelley, her agent Matthew, and some of the media had helped hold him out of her way, and she’d later found out that he owned a share in Yanko’s Bride. If it hadn’t been so tense, she would have laughed, manically, at beating him.
‘He looks familiar.’
She blew out a hard sigh. ‘His name is Harrison Driscoll. He’s one of those new city investors in racing that crop up every now and then. He’s been buying into a lot of nice fillies, so perhaps he wants to start a breeding empire.’ She held back a cynical laugh—so many people thought getting into horses was a fast way to make money, and nearly all of them failed because they didn’t have the horse skills. ‘He has a share in Yanko’s Bride.’
‘The horse that ran second?’
‘Yeah, I’ve met him a few times before and he’s an obnoxious piece of work. I’d bet he pushed the trainer to protest even though it was obvious it was Yanko’s Bride leaning on me.’
The Palace tapped his rolled-up form guide against his thigh. ‘Where have I seen him before?’
‘Sponsor’s meeting? They let all sorts of banking types come along to those “meet the team” events,’ Jacob asked.
‘Nah, I don’t reckon. It’s …’ There was a long pause as The Palace narrowed his amazingly coloured eyes. Rachel held her head high, she wasn’t one to be intimidated by something as ridiculous as eye colour. It wasn’t like he could help it. She much preferred brown eyes, ones that shined bright as they looked at her. Shit, she had it bad for Jacob. She tried not to let her shoulder’s slump and stiffened her spine purposefully.
Jacob shook his head, ‘It’ll come to you at midnight.’
Rachel blinked quickly until she realised Jacob was talking to The Palace, not about spending time with her at midnight. She eased out a wobbly breath.
‘Yeah, you are probably right. I’m sure it’s not important,’ The Palace said.
‘Hey boys,’ one of the other team mates joined the conversation, ‘they are shutting the bar soon. Shall we go to the pub across the road?’
‘Sure,’ The Palace waved his arms, ‘sounds like a plan. We don’t have any more training this season.’
‘Isn’t that your cousin’s place?’ Rachel asked quietly, as the team gathered their crap and started to move.
Jacob stared at her with a furrow between his eyebrows, ‘How did you know?’
‘It’s where I met Allira … before I moved in. She said she sometimes works there for your cousin, filling in when he needs it.’
‘Does she? Where does she find the time?’
Rachel’s lips quirked up, ‘If you want something done, ask a busy person.’
‘Come on, let’s go.’ The Palace started walking off with the rest of the team, leaving her and Jacob standing alone on the grass outside the public stand.
‘Are you alright to walk that far? You didn’t respond to my text after the game.’
Jacob’s eyebrow lifted, and his mouth quirked upwards. ‘I thought you didn’t want a relationship?’
She growled under her breath and punched him lightly on the shoulder. ‘I don’t.’
‘What’s wrong with a bit of caring?’ Her cheeks prickled with heat and she tried to brazen her way through with a bit of snark. ‘Would you rather no one gave a shit?’
He laughed, his head tilting back exposing his throat to her, and she knew the prickles of heat had everything to do with wanting him, and nothing to do with embarrassment. When would her body listen to her fucking head, and stop betraying her with all this need for him?
‘Thanks for caring. I had a scan this morning before the races. It’s a minor ligament tear, no surgery necessary, just a few months of rest and physio.’
She nodded, her eyes glued to one of the buttons on his shirt. ‘I’m glad it’s nothing major.’
‘Thanks. We knew it was a risk before I took the field—’ He half-shrugged one shoulder, ‘I took a knock on the wrong angle, and it went from a twinge to torn. It’s a shame it happened so early in the game, and I missed most of it.’
‘Yeah.’ She dragged her eyes upwards to meet his. ‘I was watching.’
He shrugged one shoulder, ‘It’s not like we might have won if I’d stayed on the field. We were outplayed by a better team.’
‘Still sucks though. I know you had your heart set on a grand final.’
‘Thanks. I guess there is always next year. Hold on, you watched the game?’
Rachel folded her arms, ‘Well, Allira was watching, and since I live in the same house … Anyway, Allira hated seeing you on the sideline with ice on your knee.’
‘Yeah, she rang.’
‘What? No snarky comment about her being allowed to care for you?’
He smiled, ‘She’s my sister and a doctor. Of course, she’s going to care.’
‘But I’m not allowed to, unless we make this non-relationship official?’ The grass had almost emptied, apart from a few emu pickers going over the betting tickets dropped on the ground to see if they could find a winner. She used to do that when she was a kid, and her dad was still in the members chatting after the races. The big days were the best, when people got drunk and accidentally threw away winning tickets. All it took was a decent memory of the winners to scan the tickets scattered on the ground before the cleaning staff came out to sweep up all the mess.
‘Yes. Are you coming with us?’
‘May as well.’
‘Don’t you want to celebrate with the owners?’ he asked.
‘I dropped by the winner’s lounge after the protest was dismissed. Shelley, she’s the trainer of Darnation, said the owner is overseas, and she was going home with the horse so wouldn’t be around afterwards.’
‘So you are free?’
‘Free as a fucking bird, mate.’ Rachel meant her statement to remind him that she didn’t want a relationship, except he stared at her with amusement in his dark eyes. ‘What?’
‘Define relationship for me.’
She twisted her mouth and stared at him. ‘Why should I? You can read a dictionary.’
‘Because I’m wondering where you draw the line between friendship and relationship.’
‘Are you shitting me?’ Surely, he didn’t want to go down that road. Her blood pumped in her veins and her muscles tensed like a barrier rogue spying the starting gates. All the explosive fast twitch muscles ready to fire and gallop away to freedom. Jacob roared with laughter, the sound at odds with her own response.
‘What? What’s so funny?’ Her hands clenched into fists and she almost bounced on her toes, ready to fight him.
‘It’s a bit of an overreaction for a simple question. Or are you worried that we are in a relationship and no amount of denying it will change that?’
‘What the everlasting fuck, Jacob? Are you trying to piss me off?’
He chuckled. ‘Is it working? No, seriously. I mean, we’ve kissed, you care about my health, we are about to go out together, isn’t that a relationship? Or do you kiss all your friends?’
She dragged in a deep breath. ‘Fine. I see why you are persisting with this line of inquisition.’ Had he moved from asking her for a fuck without a relationship, to pondering if they were already there?
‘Inquisition?’
‘What the hell else do you call it? Pleasant conversation in the park over tea?’
He laughed again, shaking his head. ‘You keep saying that you don’t want a relationship. I want to know exactly what it is you don’t want.’
‘Why?’ All her rage disappeared, replaced by a strange curiosity that made goose flesh rise on her arms.
‘By my measure, we’ve already kissed. We know each other’s phone numbers, and you’ve shown you care about me. All of that points to—’
‘—a relationship.’ Her breath eased out of her, and her stiff spine softened. Shit. He was right.
‘Unless you kiss all your friends?’
She ignored the heart of his question, ‘You think we are friends?’
‘Aren’t we?’ He held his palms up in front of himself.
‘I suppose we are.’ She rubbed her forehead, ‘You know, I hadn’t thought about it like that. You are the brother of my housemate, not a friend, or whatever. One kiss doesn’t make a relationship.’
‘Semantics. I think it marks the potential beginning of a relationship.’
She rolled her head on her shoulders, cracking her neck. ‘Why does this matter now?’
‘I like to know where I stand.’
‘I told you. I need space, and if my bloody body would listen to my head, we wouldn’t be having this fucking conversation.’
He grinned, reaching out to stroke one finger down her cheek. Zings of sensation rushed over her skin, like the flickering flames at the edge of a fire.
‘I like how you get all sweary when you are flustered.’
She stepped back, swallowing. ‘That’s a pretty weird kink.’
‘How about we forget about the pub, go back to my place, and you can swear all the dirty words at me?’ His chuckle took the edge off his proposition, even as her whole body hummed at the idea. Fuck yeah. His satisfied smile made her gasp. Had she said that out loud?
‘Rachel,’ he cupped her chin. ‘Somehow you manage to look hungry and appalled, all at the same time.’
‘Fuck you. This is a dumb idea.’ She stared down at the ground. Every time he touched her, she knew he’d be amazing in bed. She wanted him, even as her brain reminded her she didn’t want anyone.
‘Say yes. Come with me,’ he said, his dark eyes confident as he made a quiet statement. Not a question, not a demand. Just a simple comment that called to her cocky confidence—sensible, be damned. She’d always taken risks.
She drew in a deep breath, ‘Yes. Yes, let’s get this over with, and then I can get you out of my damned head.’
‘I’m not forcing you. If you don’t want to, we can go to the pub, or we can go our separate ways.’
She walked away from him, pacing in a ten-metre circle, just like a dressage warmup. To take a risk—her preferred method—or to walk away and never know. Fuck it. She didn’t know why she was fighting herself so hard on this one.
‘Yes.’ She turned to face him. ‘Yes. Take me home.’ She’d won big today already, she may as well celebrate in style with someone who really wanted her, and who made her feel truly alive.
‘And?’
‘And fuck me until we both come hard enough to see the fucking universe.’
His face lit up with a smile. ‘Hell, yes.’