Page 86 of Holiday Hire

"A beer's fine," she says.

"You always drink beer? Nothing else?" I ask.

She ponders the question and then admits, "No. I normally get martinis or cosmos or margaritas. Lance doesn't like me to drink beer."

I tense. "Seriously?"

She cringes. "Did I just admit that out loud? I don't think I've ever thought about that."

"So you realize that's really messed up?" I ask.

She waits a minute, then confesses, "Yeah, it is."

"So what does Phoebe want?"

She glances at the full bar, then back at me. "I just want a beer."

I chuckle. "Okay, then beer it is."

I get us two bottles, then lead her to the large window that looks out over the track. I hold my bottle out. "May the best horse win."

"That'll be Sweetie Pie," she chimes, clinking my beer with hers.

"Don't be so sure of yourself."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not. But this is fun. Especially since it's not my money I'm losing, although I still feel bad about it."

"Don't."

"Still... It feels a bit wrong to risk your hard-earned cash. Not that I'm going to lose," she corrects herself.

I grunt, take a mouthful of my beer, swallow, then say, "No more talk about the money. Okay?"

She exhales deeply. "Okay."

I start pointing things out to her since she's never been to the track. I explain how things work and then the announcer says it's time for the race.

The horses line up.

"Oh, this is so exciting," Phoebe says, leaning closer and tapping her hand on her thigh.

I grab it, taunting, "You aren't a little nervous that you made the wrong bet, are you?"

She smirks. "No. Eat Sweetie Pie's dust, Alexander."

I chuckle, then release her hand, and the buzzer sounds. The horses take off.

We step closer to the glass. The horses fly around the track. The crowd's shouts grow louder.

I'm used to these races, but tonight, everything is different. Tycoon's running well, but Sweetie Pie's just behind him. Since they're both Cartright horses, that makes me happy, but I'm notused to being surprised at races. Like I said, I usually only take calculated risks when I'm gambling. Plus, I know my horses well.

But as fast as the race is, it becomes clear Ace and Wilder have a great eye for assessing the horses. Sweetie Pie and Tycoon suddenly are neck and neck.

Phoebe shouts, "Come on, Sweetie Pie! Let's go!"

I tear my eyes off the track, watching her excitement and joy, and it makes me happy.

"Come on, come on, come on! There you go! A little bit farther!" she urges.

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