Page 85 of Holiday Hire

She gets in, and I close the door.

I round the hood and then slide into the driver's seat. I start the truck. Country music blares from the speakers.

"Whoa." I turn the volume down. "Sorry about that."

She giggles. "It's okay."

"Do you know who was in my truck last?" I question.

She hesitates, then cringes. "I think Jagger. He had to move it for some reason."

"Huh," I say. I make a mental note to talk to my brother. Jagger likes to take my truck out for no reason, and I always yell at him whenever he does.

During the entire ride, nerves dance in my belly. We make small talk until we get to the track. I get out of the truck, go around to open her door, and grab her hand as soon as she steps out. I steer her toward the betting area and tease, "Are you sure you want Sweetie Pie? I feel kind of bad that I'm going to beat you and demolish all your dreams in an instant."

"Oh no you're not. That's my horse, and I'm sticking with her."

"Fair enough."

I release her hand and pull out my billfold. I already know there's two grand in it. I slap it down in front of the bookie, saying, "One thousand on Tycoon and one thousand on Sweetie Pie."

Phoebe shifts next to me. She looks uncomfortable.

I murmur in her ear, "Stop worrying about the money. It's fine."

She releases an anxious breath. She slowly tilts her head up, her mouth only inches from mine. She breathes, "Okay."

"Let's have fun," I order, locking eyes with her.

She lifts her chin and straightens her shoulders. "You're right."

"Of course I'm right. You'll learn that someday." I wink.

She laughs. The bookie gives us our tickets, and I hand her the one for Sweetie Pie, instructing, "Hold on to this. If you lose it and a miracle happens and you win—which you won't because Tycoon's going to—you'll need this to cash in."

She rolls her eyes. "You're so overly confident, but cockiness won't make your horse go faster."

"We'll see about that. I know my horses. Although, I am intrigued that both my boys think Sweetie Pie will win," I admit.

Tycoon doesn't always put everything out during practices, but I'm okay with it. He saves it for race days. I'm sure he's an adrenaline junkie. And I taught him to know his role, so I'm not worried about it.

Phoebe asks, "Do you have a color in mind?"

"Color?" I question.

"Yeah. For your room."

"Nope. I'm not good with colors. I told you you're the creative one. That'll be up to you."

"Really? So I have free rein when I win?"

"Yeah, you would have free rein." I lean closer to her. "But remember, my horse is winning, not yours."

"We'll see about that." She beams up at me.

I grab her hand again and lead her through the racetrack to the box my family owns. Inside, there's a full spread of food, including appetizers, main courses, desserts, and a full bar.

I question, "What do you want to drink?"

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