Racing Savannah

Chapter 19. Show Time

The Winchesters’ racetrack, Paradise Park, is located between Lexington and Louisville on the greenest patch of land you’ve ever seen. Any time now, I’m expecting the Lucky Charms leprechaun to pop up and tell me I’m in Ireland or something. It’s times like this when I don’t believe karma is real; it’s unfair that douches like the Winchesters get to own such beautiful land.

As Dad pulls the truck into the parking lot beside the barns, I feel a slight pang of guilt for Mr. Goodwin because he’ll never own this beautiful place if he doesn’t pony up at least another million bucks. At the same time, I’m pissed because Jack hasn’t said a thing about me riding Star in today’s race, even though I brought my silks to wear. Is he waiting to make sure we have good weather before getting my hopes up?

Dad works with Minerva, Echoes of Summer, and Lucky Strikes while Rory and I are having a hell of a time with Star. He won’t stop rolling on the floor, scattering his hay bed, and snorting. He hops to his feet and jogs around his stall, making grunting noises. He is one unhappy horse.

“Get out of here,” I finally tell Rory, and my friend eagerly leaves the stall, latching it behind him. Mr. Goodwin and Jack need to hire more girls, I swear.

I take a deep breath through my nose and step forward, getting in Star’s face.

“Stop it, boy,” I say in a strong voice. “You’re such a big baby. You just want attention, right?” The horse stops snorting and moving around like he’s on drugs. His ears twitch and he stomps the ground with his front right hoof.

I stroke his face, inhaling his muskiness. “Ror?” I call out. “Would you bring Echoes of Summer in here?”

A minute later, Echoes of Summer has joined me and Star, and the mare calms him down even more. I stay with the horses, feeding them grain and brushing their hair, singing to Star to keep him calm.

Before the race, Jack and his father appear, along with Gael. Jack is wearing an elegant suit and tie, and his hair is slicked with gel.

“Get him ready to go, Whitfield,” Mr. Goodwin says. Did he forget Star hates boys or something? The minute Rory comes in the stall, Star gets agitated again. He slaps his head from side to side.

“Get out,” I say to Rory, putting up a hand. “I’ll get him ready. He’s comfortable with me,” I say to Mr. Goodwin. I want to do right by the horse. “I’ll walk him to the paddock.”

“Wait,” Jack says, standing up straight. He’s nearly taller than his father. “I want Savannah to ride him.”

“I think it’s best if you race Townsend,” Mr. Goodwin says. “He’s got more experience on this track and the purse is half a mil. You need to make the money back for the stud fee and I don’t want to see your reputation go to hell. I don’t think you can afford to lose.”

“I know I can’t,” Jack says. “That’s why Savannah’s gonna race Star. I’ll go tell the officials myself.”

“I’ll come with you,” Gael says.

Mr. Goodwin grabs Jack by the shoulder and stares him down. “Son—”

“I want your support on this, Dad,” Jack interrupts. “I’ve supported you in everything. I used Townsend as a jockey in the last race. I came on to Abby Winchester when I didn’t have any feelings for her. And because of you, I lost something important to me.” He finds my eyes.

Mr. Goodwin slaps his notebook against his palm and glances around the park, looking partially pissed but mostly wistful. He blows out air, sighing.

“I’m the owner of Cedar Hill and it’s my decision,” Jack says, and a chill shoots through me. “Go big or go home.”

“You’d better go get dressed,” Mr. Goodwin says to me. “Nobody’s riding a Cedar Hill horse unless they’re wearing the family silks.”

“Thank you!” I say, grinning.

I haul ass to the truck to change clothes, to get ready for the biggest race of my life. I reach into the cab for my backpack that contains the silks I’ll wear during the race. Glancing around at the other trailers, I make sure I’m alone and shielded by the truck door before pulling my T-shirt off over my head. I’m about to slip my Slytherin Cedar Hill shirt over my bra when a voice behind me says, “Hey.”

I cover my breasts and duck behind the door.

Marcus Winchester slowly walks up, and even though he can clearly see I’m changing, he doesn’t vamoose. He stares at me like he did that night in the Goodwins’ dining room. What. A. Perv.

“Go away,” I say, trying to cover my breasts with the shirt. “I’m changing.”

He reeks of alcohol and it’s not even noon. “You work for the Goodwins, right?” he asks.

“Yeah…?”

“Wouldn’t it be a shame if my dad raised the cost of our track even more? You know, because of you? Because you haven’t been respectful of me?”

I pause for several heartbeats. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you? Servants want to sleep with me.”

Does he have a sick desire to dominate people or something?

“Get lost,” I say when he grabs my arm. My teeth are chattering as I scramble toward the next trailer. He latches on like a leech and I’m dragging him behind me.

“I tried to give you something special. You should be grateful,” Marcus blurts. I shove him in the gut and rush toward the barns. Seconds later, Marcus overtakes me.

“I’ll make sure the Goodwins can never buy our track and it’ll be your fault,” Marcus says, grabbing me from behind. “I’ll make sure you lose your job and can’t get hired anywhere else.”

Mr. Goodwin still wants to buy this place, but I believed him when he said he’ll take care of my family. Of me.

“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do, you crazy asshole,” I say, stomping on his foot. Marcus groans and hops up and down.

Right then, Jack comes barreling up. He slams his right fist into Marcus’s jaw, smashing him to the ground. Marcus trips Jack, and Jack takes a punch to the chin. Then Jack leaps onto Marcus and smashes his knuckles into his nose three times. Jack pins him to the dirt.

“Jack, I already got him!” I say, like we’re hunting and Jack stole my kill.

Marcus wipes blood off his nose. “Fuck you, Goodwin.”

“Go ahead, Savannah,” Jack says, holding him down. “Do your worst.”

I kind of want to kick him where it counts, but I don’t care enough to waste any more time on this dickwad. I thrust out a hand and pull Jack up from the ground then hug him. He rubs his hands up and down my back.

Yeah, I stomped on Marcus’s foot and gave him a piece of my mind, but I can’t stop shuddering and gasping for breath.

“Shhh,” Jack whispers, gently rubbing the back of my neck. He takes the green shirt from my hand and helps me slip it over my head. I touch the bruise forming on his chin.

Marcus fumbles his way to his feet. “I’m going to tell my father.”

Just because he’s rich and powerful doesn’t mean he can do whatever he wants and get away with it.

“I’m calling the police to report you,” I say.

“Who’d believe your story over mine?” Marcus snorts.

“Me,” Jack says calmly.

“I hope you enjoy telling your family you lost Paradise Park for them.”

“Who gives a shit?” Jack says. “You tried to assault my jockey.”

“So what?” Marcus replies.

“So Savannah’s gonna call the cops, and I’ll make sure your mom and sister don’t get invited to the Governor’s Christmas Ball this year. You don’t want to disappoint your mother, do you?”

Marcus’s eyes balloon and he actually looks freaked out. I stare up at Jack through misty eyes and wrap my arms around his waist.

“Hell, if you ever come near my girlfriend again, I’ll kill you,” Jack adds, making my shoulders tense up. Wait. Did he say girlfriend?

“Now get the hell out of here,” Jack says, and as Marcus scrambles away, Jack turns to me and lifts my wrist to touch the bracelet he gave me.

“Girlfriend?” I whisper. “That’s pretty presumptuous of you.”

“Are you still dating Alex? Whitfield’s cousin?” I slowly shake my head and he gently kisses my wrist. “Did Marcus hurt you?”

I know my place, but I stood up for myself anyway and didn’t think about anything except for what’s right. And even though we come from completely different stock, Jack did the right thing too.

“I’m fine…actually, I’m great.”

Jack holds my hand the entire way back to the barn, and when we see our dads, I expect him to drop it. But he keeps holding on tight.

“Is this for real?” I mumble. “What you said about me being your girlfriend?”

“I’m serious,” he whispers, holding our hands up where anyone can see them. “I’ve never cared about anyone else like this.”

“And we’re exclusive?”

“Yup,” he says.

“But what about Paradise Park? Mr. Winchester’ll never sell it to your father now.”

He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand. “I’ll tell Dad there are other racetracks. And besides, Paradise Park has crappy plumbing.”

“Crappy plumbing.”

“That’s right.”

I grin and he grins back. As we walk up, Mr. Goodwin looks from his son to our hands and shakes his head.

“Savannah and I are going out now,” Jack announces to our fathers and Rory.

Rory drops the brush he is holding and his mouth falls open. He digs in his pocket, yanks out his cell, and starts texting. Such a gossip that boy is.

Dad rubs his eyes.

“What happened to your face?” Mr. Goodwin asks Jack.

“Marcus Winchester looks a lot worse, I promise.”

Mr. Goodwin looks freaked out for a second, but then he grins. “That’s my boy.”

“I’ll tell you what happened in private,” Jack says to his father, pulling me up next to him. “It’s time to get Star and Savannah ready for the race.”

Mr. Goodwin says, “Your mother will be angry with me for allowing you to date one of our staff. It won’t look right, and there could be issues if you don’t work out.”

“You sneak hot dogs behind Mom’s back all the time! I’m responsible for the farm, and I can make my own decisions.”

“A man stands by his decisions,” Mr. Goodwin says.

“Yes, sir, he does,” Jack replies.

“We’ll talk more about this later, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Jack replies in a strong voice.

“I don’t agree with this any more than Jack’s father does,” Dad says to me slowly. “But I want you to be happy, whatever that means for you. I know how much you care about your family and want to do the right thing by us. And I want to do the right thing by you.” Dad wraps me in his arms, hugging me hard.

Jack faces our fathers. “After the race, can Savannah stay the night at our house in Kentucky with us?”

“I’d love to,” I say, and I catch Mr. Goodwin and Dad exchanging a freaked-out look.

“I want to cook you dinner,” Jack says to me, ignoring our gaping fathers. Dad wipes sweat off his forehead. “She thinks I can’t grill, but I can.” He squeezes my hand. “Wait…I’ll be back in a few. I’ve gotta do something. Whitfield—come help me.”

He sprints out of the barn with Rory at his ankles. Jesus Lord, where’s he going now?

“Jack!” Mr. Goodwin calls, following his son.

The other men clear out of the barn, leaving me to collect Star’s tack and get him in the zone for the race. I pat his nose and look him in the eye. We have a staring contest that goes on for at least a minute, but then a mare passing by our stall distracts him.

“I win!” I hug his neck. “I love you.”

He nips at my hair, saying he loves me too.

Jack meets up with me at the paddock after Shelby helped me get Star saddled up and ready to go.

“How you doing?” Jack whispers in my ear.

“Good,” I say. I don’t want to jinx myself by saying that I’ve never been on such a high, that I have a feeling Star and I are in good shape for today. “Thank you for this.”

“Thank you,” Jack replies, smiling at me before turning his focus back to his horse. He walks around Star one last time, inspecting him, before wishing me luck and pecking my cheek.

Dad mounts a pony and leads us out onto the track. He leans over and pats Star’s head as we begin to warm up. Star barely pays attention to the pony. He must know this race is important.

When we get to the starting gate, I take a deep breath and Dad pats my back. “I’m proud of you, and your mom would be too.”

I smile as Star enters the gate and the gates close behind me. I’m in the fourth position, the best place to be. For the first time ever, the horse doesn’t go crazy when we’re inside the gate.

“You got this, Star,” I say, breathing calmly.

The bell rings loud and clear. The gates bang open.

“And they’re off!” the announcer says, and everything goes silent except for the sound of hooves slamming the ground.

Star breaks well. I settle behind Dancing Delight and That’s My Boy. Everybody eases up around the first turn. I grab a good position on the rail. Dancing Delight leads the way to the backstretch. I’m two off the lead when the pack moves together on the far turn.

I own the rail and we pick up speed as we make our way past That’s My Boy.

I yell, “Move your ass, Star!”

That’s My Boy challenges us, making me settle back into third. At the home stretch, I’m two lengths off the lead. On the final furlong, I use the whip and yell Star’s name. I make up the distance. Overtake Dancing Delight on the final furlong. But he grabs it back.

My heart pounds and I’m biting down hard on my lip as we cross the finish line.

We lose by a length!

Second place. Damn.

As Star begins to relax, I pull my goggles off and set them on top of my helmet with a sigh. Is he ever gonna win one? I lean down and hug Star long and hard. We circle back around, and the only person I want to see must be swallowed up in that sea of reporters, because I can’t find him anywhere.

I ride up to the paddock. Reporters are all over me. Cameras are flashing. People are hollering. Second place with a half a mil purse is nothing to cry home about. Star just won $125K for Cedar Hill.

“Jack!” I peer through the crowd to find him wedging his way between people. He breaks free and darts up to slap Star’s side and rub his ears.

“Good boy,” Jack says, rubbing the horse’s muzzle and smiling up at me.

“I’m sorry,” I say with a sob.

“You’ll win next time. I know it.” He holds my gaze, grinning, and I squeeze his hand. “Come down here,” Jack says, and I let him pull me off the horse. Gael grabs the reins. And when a photographer gets in my face to snap a picture, Jack pulls me into a long kiss, wrapping his arms around me, cocooning me like he’ll never let go. And I kinda hope he doesn’t.

“I swear,” I hear Mr. Goodwin say. “Do you have to kiss her in front of everybody?”

“Yes,” Jack replies, then dives right back in, kissing me again.

“I thought Jack had a girlfriend—that Winchester girl,” Mrs. Goodwin says, sounding confused and pissed. “John, why is our son kissing Danny’s daughter? John, what’s going on?”

“How romantic,” Shelby sighs.

“I’m going to kill him,” Dad says.

“This would be a great climactic scene,” Rory adds, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch him jotting down notes.

Star sniffs my hair and nuzzles his neck between our heads. Jack and I break apart.

“Is my horse trying to cock block me?” he whispers in my ear.

“Appears so.”

“If he hadn’t done so well, I’d send him to New York to drag a tourist carriage. For real this time.”

Jack and I smile, continuing to kiss, and even though we’re not in the winner’s circle, I feel like I won.

Laughter and hooting and hollering distract me, and when I pull away from his lips, he turns me to face the scoreboard. It reads:

Sav—Will you go to homecoming with me?—Jack

I laugh. “That’s so much better than a skywriter!”

After the press has melted away and while Jack is attempting to smooth things over with his mother, who is super agitated that her son was making out in front of a crowd, Mr. Goodwin walks up to me and Dad with a gentleman I don’t recognize.

“Danny and Savannah, meet Thomas Alexander. He runs the Kentucky Thoroughbred Village in Lexington.”

Mr. Alexander shakes Dad’s hand first and then mine. “You’re quite talented, Savannah.”

“Thank you.”

He hands me his card. “We have a jockey-training program at the Village you might be interested in. We offer college credit that’s accepted at the University of Kentucky. You’d have to spend several hours a week exercising the horses, and you’d work as a sort of apprentice instructor, teaching younger kids how to be a jockey. If you’re interested, I can have my assistant get in touch with you to discuss the details.”

Mr. Goodwin smiles down at me. I peek up at Dad, who’s picking at the inside of his eye with his thumb, trying to act manly by pretending he’s not tearing up.

“I’m very interested, thank you.” I bounce on my toes.

I give Mr. Alexander my phone number and email address, and after he’s gone, Mr. Goodwin pats my shoulder.

“Thank you for doing that for me,” I tell Mr. Goodwin, cradling the man’s card in my hands.

“Don’t thank me. Jack asked me to make the introduction. It was all his idea.”

I lounge in a cushy chair on the patio, watching Jack work the grill. Wearing an apron, he whistles as he flips the burgers. The smell of cooking meat wafts over along with the sound of the radio. He likes listening to college football games. I never knew that about him until tonight. What else don’t I know?

“What are you smiling at?” he asks.

“Wondering if you have any secrets.”

The edge of his mouth lifts into a smirk. “I won’t keep any secrets from you…except…”

“Except what?”

His grin is full of mischief as he abandons the grill to come give me a kiss. “I can’t tell you what I want to do to you later in private. It’s a secret.”

Stomach butterflies flutter up into my chest and heart, leaving me breathless. Smiling, he returns to his position at the grill, and I pull my knees to my chest, incredibly content. It’s a chilly autumn night, and I’m cozy in one of Jack’s extra large sweatshirts. He gave me a guest bedroom with a queen-size bed, with a fluffy white duvet and pillows made of lace. When I sleep there tonight, I’ll feel like a princess…who’s also a horse jockey. Bad. Ass.

“I told you I could grill,” he murmurs, smiling as he serves me a cheeseburger.

After dinner, and after a crazy make-out session in the hot tub where he let me in on the secret things he wanted to do to me, we curl up in the hammock together. His parents won’t be home from some fancy dinner for a while, and his sister and the housekeeper are inside, so it’s almost like we’re in our own little world. Except for Jack’s hounds resting on the ground below us. Thor is a big snorer.

“This is my favorite place,” Jack says, wrapping his hands behind his head, staring at the stars.

“It could easily become mine too.” I love the soft sounds of the crisp night. Crickets. A stream babbling in the distance. My boyfriend’s steady breathing.

“Thank you for supporting me today,” I say, curling up against his chest.

He kisses the top of my head. “Thank you for believing in me.”