Searching for Beautiful (Searching For 3)

She sniffed haughtily, even though the compliment was nice. She batted her lashes coquettishly. "I don't know nothin' 'bout betting on no horses, Mr. Wolfe."

He looked up as if annoyed she'd broken his concentration. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way."

"What's the hard way?"

"I educate you on narrowing down the field until you decide what horse is best for you. We calculate speed ratings. Check breeding, trainers, jockeys. Look at their past performance. See if they dropped in class. Glance at the odds. Then make an overall pick using all that information."

She shuddered. A root canal sounded more fun than that. "What's the easy way?"

"You look at the names and numbers and bet on your favorite."

"Sold. The easy way it is. Give me the form." His suffering sigh told her he was disappointed in her choice but she didn't care. She certainly didn't have to worry about her weight anymore, so while he took his time gathering all the useless information, she'd make her way through the food carts.

Gen glanced down at the list of horses. Disappointed Dreamer. The inner bell rang and she stabbed her finger at lucky number four. "That's the one."

"Umm, yeah. Not a great choice. Let me show you how to read the stats. This column shows his past races, and he hasn't won a race since April. Looked promising, but something must have happened and he's been dropping ever since. These are the speed numbers. None of the handicappers picked him even to show."

"I don't care. What type of bet do I do?"

"I would highly suggest a few bucks on show. You can do win, place, or show. Win is first, place is first or second, and show means he can come in first, second, or third. Odds are twenty to one, so it's a long shot. The morning line favorite is going off at three to one."

He spread open the page and showed her the numbers. "See, number one is the favorite because he won his last three races. This is the one to beat. Want to throw a few bucks on him so you get the feel of the win?"

A dark cloud settled over her. Winning was always so important to David. Be the best. Be graceful with the ones you defeat, but make sure you come out ahead. She was so sick and tired of trying to be that person, just like poor Disappointed Dreamer probably was trying to keep up with the stupid number one horse. Maybe his trainer wouldn't let him run his own race. Maybe he wouldn't be first all the time, but at least he'd keep his head high because he tried his best. Well, forget number one and his victories. She was done with betting on favorites.

Gen practically spit out the words. "Screw number one. I want the four horse. Give me money."

Wolfe cocked his head and studied her. His lips tugged in a grin, but he just nodded and reached into his pocket to slide a twenty at her. "Here you go." She scooped up the bill and kept her hand out. "What?"

"I want more."

"More? Sweetheart, twenty bucks on a long shot is plenty--you're just gonna lose it. I'll give you more later." He reached over for the lemonade and took a sip.

She shook her head hard. "I want to bet one hundred dollars on him to win."

Wolfe choked. Gen waited patiently. "Are you nuts?"

"Are you a multimillionaire, Wolfe?" He lapsed into silence. "Just what I thought. I'll give you your ten percent bookie fee, but right now I want a hundred. Oh, and an extra twenty for snacks."

He reached back into his wallet, peeled off the bills, and handed them over to her. Damn, he was grumpy when he didn't get his way. "Thanks. I'll be back."

"I need to show you how to place a bet!"

"I see a line up over there. You finish tracking your statistics, I'll figure it out. See ya."

She walked away, feeling an odd buzz in her veins. Like she had an instinct something big was going to happen. Gen waited her turn and eavesdropped on a bunch of different conversations, finally narrowing in on a group of three guys arguing over the race.

"The only reason you're betting the four is because you got dumped, man. Don't let her take your money, too."

"Yeah, there's plenty of hot women around you can sleep with this weekend. Just forget about her. Pick number one and get a win."

The dumpee looked generally miserable. Shaggy blond hair, ruddy cheeks, stubble, and clothes a bit wrinkled told her he was indulging in the breakup blues. Poor guy. His friends flanked him on either side, beer in hand, trying to do the manly thing by insulting him enough so he was happy. Men were an odd gender she didn't think she'd ever figure out. They were young, probably college age, and seemed more intent on looking around for hot women than horses.

The dumpee sighed. "Who cares if I win if I really lost?"

His friends groaned in horror at the emotion. "Ah shit, I can't hear this all weekend. We're here to have fun, dude. Make some money. Drink. Get lucky."

Gen couldn't help it. She tapped one of them on the shoulder. "Excuse me, but I think the four is gonna win."

All three of them checked her out, and it seemed she passed the test. The dumpee's companions gave her broad, welcoming grins. "Hey, that's great. This is Ed, I'm Tom, and this here is Steve."

"Hi, I'm Gen." She focused on Ed. "I'm sorry about your girlfriend."

The other two winced, but Ed nodded. "Thanks. It sucks. We've been together for two years but she fell in love with some actor in her class. He's got bad teeth but she didn't care. Said he was exciting and artistic."

She clucked in sympathy. "If she didn't appreciate you, it's better this happened now. But I know that won't make you feel better. You're lucky to have awesome friends to try and help."

Tom and Steve puffed up. "Why don't you hang with us and watch the race? We're going up to the rail. Did you come with your girlfriends?" They looked around hopefully.

"No, sorry. Can you help me though? What do I say to put a hundred bucks on number four to win?"

"Whoa, you really like four, huh?" Tom asked.

"Yeah. I'm tired of the cool horses winning all the time. I think he has a shot."

Ed gave a small grin. "Me, too. I'm sticking with my bet."

Steve shrugged. "Your money. I'm taking the one. Gen, when you get to the booth, say you want race one, a hundred dollars to win on the four horse. Got it?"

"Thanks. I got a feeling."

The Black Eyed Peas song played in her brain as she got her ticket. Wolfe wasn't at the picnic table so she decided to go to the rail with the guys. They were really nice to her, joking around and flirty in an innocent type of way. Had she ever felt that young? Lately, at only twenty-six years old, she felt as if she'd aged a hundred years. It was nice to relax in the hot sun and pretend she had no other cares in the world except winning on a horse.

She clutched her ticket and peered over the gate, cursing her wimpy five feet. Before she realized, Steve hauled her up and onto his shoulders. A squeal escaped her mouth. "I'm too heavy for you. Ah!" She frantically gripped at his shoulders for balance while the guys broke into laughter. The people surrounding them gave a cheer.

"Are you kidding? You're light as a feather. See, now you can see the horses."

Gen relaxed a bit. He was right. It was actually kind of cool; she'd never been on a guy's shoulders before. The stream of horses pranced in front, bodies gleaming, heads tossing, and then were guided into their separate gates. All of a sudden, there was a buzz and the announcer screamed over the speakers, "And they're off!"

She never knew a race could be so long. She never knew a race could be so short. The horses flew around the track at a rapid pace, dirt flying up from their hooves, jockeys leaning over, the pace punishing and brutal as they fought each other for space.

Disappointed Dreamer was dead last. The number one horse--Rapid Rose--held the lead, keeping tight to the rail. The crowd screamed different names out loud, gazes pinned to the field of ten, and slowly, ever so slowly, the number four began to inch his way toward the middle.

The scarlet uniform stood out boldly among the jockeys. Head tucked, legs a blur, the rider made up ground in rapid time, and they neared

the finish line. Other horses dropped one by one, with Rapid Rose still holding the lead, but Disappointed Dreamer hit his stride and closed in so fast Gen couldn't believe it was possible.

She yelled so loud her throat hurt, and Steve bounced up and down, so she grasped his head to make sure she didn't topple. And then number four was neck and neck with number one, and they battled for two long, long seconds.

Disappointed Dreamer crossed the finish line a few noses ahead.

Steve reached up and easily plucked her from his shoulders. The moment her feet hit the ground she danced like a crazy person. Her heart raced and her palms sweat and raw adrenaline pumped through her system. The photo finish was quickly resolved. It was official.

"Holy crap, you made over two grand!" Tom said, shaking his head. "What a race."

"We won, we won," she screeched, hugging Ed. "I told you I had a feeling."

Suddenly, a cold voice broke through the revelry, making her stop and freeze.

"What the hell is going on?"

She jerked around and stared into a pair of icy blue eyes.

Uh-oh. Now she had another feeling.

She was in trouble.

eight

IF THERE WAS one thing he lived as his motto, it was "Be cool."

Not much rattled him anymore. After a brutal past and hard journey to get where he was, Wolfe decided he was pretty much done with all those highs and lows of emotion. That's why he did better with women for the short term. He didn't have a jealous bone in his body. And he might get a bit irritated at work, but nothing really moved him to show actual anger.