Page 8 of Irish Rebel
The air roared with the thunder.
Inside Brian’s chest, his heart beat the same way, at a hard and joyful gallop. The boy’s hat flew off as they turned into the backstretch. When they streaked by, Paddy gave a grunt and flicked his timer.
“Not bad,” Paddy said dryly and held out the watch.
Brian didn’t need to see it. He had a clock in his head, and he knew he’d just watched a champion.
“I think I’ve seen the like of your Prince at last, Mr. Grant.”
“And he knows it.”
“You want your hands on that one, boy?” Paddy asked him.
There was a time, Brian thought, to hold your cards close, and a time to lay them out. “I do, yes.”
Struggling not to dance with eagerness, he turned to Travis again. “If the job’s being offered, Mr. Grant, I’ll take it.”
Travis inclined his head, extended a hand. “Welcome to Royal Meadows. Let’s go get some coffee.”
Brian simply stared as Travis walked off. “Just like that?” he murmured.
“He’d already made up his mind,” Paddy said, “or you wouldn’t be here in the first place. Travis doesn’t waste time—his or anyone else’s. After you’re done with your coffee and such, come over to my place—above the garage. You’ll want a look at the condition book, and have a little conversation.”
“Yes, I will. Thanks.” A bit dazed, Brian headed off after Travis.
He caught up, surprised, and a little embarrassed, to find his palms were sweaty. A job was only a job, he reminded himself. “I’m grateful for the opportunity, Mr. Grant.”
“Travis. You’ll work for it. We have high standards at Royal Meadows. I expect you to meet them. I’d like you to start as soon as possible.”
“I’ll start today.”
Travis glanced over. “Good.”
Scanning the area, Brian gestured toward another small building, with the paddock set up with jumps. “Do you train jumpers, show horses, as well?”
“That’s a separate enterprise.” Travis smiled slightly. “You’ll work the racehorses. You can move your things into the trainer’s quarters when you’re ready.” Travis flicked a glance toward the garage house.
Brian opened his mouth—then shut it again. He hadn’t expected housing to be part of the package, but wasn’t about to argue it away. If it didn’t suit him, they’d deal with it later.
“You have a beautiful home. Someone likes their flowers.”
“My wife.” Travis turned onto a slate path. “She’s particularly fond of flowers.”
And Brian imagined they had a staff of gardeners, landscapers, whatever it was, to deal with them. “The horses appreciate a pretty setting.”
Travis stepped onto a patio, turned. “Do they?”
“They do.”
“Did Betty tell you that when you were speaking to her?”
Brian met Travis’s amused eyes levelly. “She indicated she was a queen and expected to be treated as such.”
“And will you?”
“I will, until she abuses the privilege. Even royalty needs a bit of a yank now and again.”
So saying, he stepped through the door Travis held open.
