My Secret Fantasies. Joanne Rock
a few long, dark strands of hair slipping out from under a worn Fraser Farm hat to hide one eye. “I’ve only been doing this for two years and every time it just...amazes me. I’m not going home anytime soon.”
Even if I hadn’t seen her face and the wonder in her deep brown eyes, I would have been able to hear it in her voice. I admired that kind of joy in a job. Moreover, I wished I could find it for myself. I don’t know what had made me think I’d ever be fulfilled as an actress. Yikes. Never trust the decisions you make at eighteen. Especially when they are based on putting distance between yourself and a creepy man.
“You know there’s a bed if you want to catch some rest,” Damien reminded her, his voice warmer, kinder than it seemed toward me. Not that I was jealous or anything. But it made me curious.
“For sure.” Bekkah nodded. “Looks like she’s ready—”
The mare’s contractions yielded the afterbirth that Bekkah had been waiting for. This part was a bigger deal with a Thoroughbred than a cow, I’d gathered. With a horse, it was important that none of the placenta was retained, so Bekkah would have to inspect the whole thing to be sure no pieces were missing that could cause infection in the mare.
Thankfully, the tack room had also been well stocked with gloves.
“Miranda,” Damien said sharply, while I watched Bekkah work. Peering his way, I followed his gaze and saw the foal trying to stand.
Awkward legs and knobby knees struggled to coordinate their efforts. The bay colt wobbled. Leaving the shovel behind, I hurried to Damien’s side. I didn’t know if we were supposed to help the animal or not, but Damien seemed content just to watch. When the newborn got all the way to his feet, he took a step and tested those long, skinny limbs.
“Wow,” I breathed softly, meeting Damien’s hazel eyes over the little creature’s scruffy head. “Incredible.”
Damien didn’t say anything. But his smile warmed me to my toes, our shared moment not needing any words. It felt special just to be there to see the foal standing on those precarious legs, instinctively seeking out its mama in the stall. And, okay, maybe I melted inside to see this big, badass dude—he had chains in his truck—so touched by the sight of the little animal.
I’m not sure how much more time passed before Bekkah declared the placenta intact, and Tallulah’s Nine was cleared from having a vet visit until the morning. I mucked the stable once more so the new mom—a first-timer, apparently—and her foal were clean and comfy for the night. Bekkah and Damien agreed that she’d call right away if she had any concerns. I washed up and stepped outside the big, U-shaped barn and into the moonlight. There were at least thirty stalls in this facility, each with access to fresh air, while giving the animals plenty of shelter and protection, too. I heard more than saw the other horses nearby. When we’d rushed into the barn earlier, I hadn’t noticed many other horses, but then, maybe they’d been in a pasture before sundown.
The soft creak of a door alerted me that Damien had joined me. Turning, I saw his broad shoulders emerge from the shadows of the building. His boots scuffed an even rhythm over the stonework surrounding the large fountain in the middle of the U.
“I’m tempted to wade right in there.” I lifted my face to the mist, even though the temperature had dropped when the sun went down. I’d washed up at a utility sink inside the barn, but still, I needed a major dousing. “You’ve got a beautiful facility here.”
“Thanks.” He sank onto the ledge of the fountain, even though there were benches built around it at regular intervals. “When I bought the place three years ago, it was half the size it is now. At the time, I thought that add-ons like the fountain and the jogging paths around the property would be overkill, but after seeing some other Thoroughbred operations, I knew I had to up the ante if I wanted to compete.”
“What made you want to be in the business?” I was curious about his background. Although he’d seemed a bit anxious during the foaling this evening, it wasn’t the nervousness of a first-timer. He’d done that sort of thing before, I could tell.
His concern was either from a genuine love of animals or, perhaps, worry about his investment. Maybe both. I knew Thoroughbreds were mega-expensive. I couldn’t begin to guess how much that mare or her new foal might be worth.
“I graduated high school early and moved up here to go to college away from family.” He dipped a hand in the fountain and ran wet fingers along his forehead. “I worked here for the former owner while I put myself through Sonoma State.”
I sat beside him, grateful to have a conversation that wasn’t about the sale of his building, or my notoriety. I definitely liked him, and not just because he was megahot. Even if his vision for Fraser Farm was an obstacle to my tearoom, I couldn’t help but admire his commitment. More than that, I still remembered the look on his face when he’d watched the foal stand for the first time.
“How long did you work here before you bought the place?” I put my feet on the ledge, tucking my knees under my chin while we talked. I was cooling down now that we were out of the stables, especially when the breeze occasionally blew the mist from the fountain onto my arms. It went right through my lace blouse.
“Off and on for six years. Even after I did a business internship overseas, the owner convinced me to come back here and apply some of what I’d learned to upgrade his operations.” Damien folded his arms across his chest, staring off into the distance, where I could see lights from what was probably his house. “He also convinced me to buy my own racehorse.”
“Really?” I sounded more surprised than I should have. “I mean, I guess it stands to reason that you must like racing. But I picture Thoroughbred racing as a very upscale sport, and today I’ve seen a very...er, earthy side of you.”
He laughed and that deep, warm sound chased off some of the chill I’d been feeling.
“The behind-the-scenes route to the winner’s circle isn’t exactly littered with roses. But my friend had given me a hell of a deal on the horse he sold me—Learn From Your Mistakes—and I started winning races.”
“Learn From Your Mistakes?” I had to smile. “Sounds like a horse I should have bought.”
“He turned out lucky for me. I made enough off his racing winnings to invest in two more horses. They both paid off even better than my first.” Damien’s voice quieted. “Little did I know Ted was trying to help me earn enough money to make a down payment on this place and take it over.”
“He sounds very generous.” I thought about my own winnings from Gutsy Girl. I wanted so much to put that money to work for me the same way Damien had made his horse’s earnings pay off with smart investments. “So then you bought him out?”
The sound of a soft, horsey snort came from one of the nearby stables, the scent of hay on the breeze.
“He was diagnosed with cancer and wanted to spend the rest of his time on a beach in Costa Rica, but he’d made commitments to other owners, since he boarded horses here. He was in a hurry to sell, but wanted to put the farm in the hands of someone who would honor those obligations and fulfill his other dream, of opening a Thoroughbred retirement and retraining facility.”
“Retraining facility?”
“For horses that don’t make the cut on the racing circuit. Too often, those Thoroughbreds who don’t start winning early in their career aren’t given a long enough chance to prove their worth. But there are a lot of options for them. Show horses. Pleasure horses. They just need a different kind of training. So we’re doing that here.”
“That’s a great idea.” I’d noticed construction equipment and new barns in the distance. I hadn’t expected that development would be for such humane purposes.
“If I make enough profit on one side of the business, it just might support the other. But the farm turned out to be a second chance for me. I guess I liked the idea of giving the Thoroughbreds second chances, too.” He shrugged. “Besides, I got the place