Owen rolled his eyes. “Grandpa is still living in the past. Does he honestly believe shoveling horse manure this summer is going to give me character? This isn’t some two-hour movie where I suddenly change my perspective and fall in love with the farm. I kind of hate it here.”
Aidan tried not to chuckle. The kid looked miserable. Hell, Aidan remembered being his age, but in his world, if he didn’t work, he didn’t survive. Choices were limited, and he’d gotten used to doing what needed to be done. The result gave him the confidence and freedom to live life on his own terms. In his mind, it was a fair deal and nothing he bitched about. “Sorry to break it to you, but most people don’t have money or indulgent parents to fall back on. I think your granda is trying to show you how to take care of yourself by taking responsibility as a man. I also think if he heard you whingeing all the time, he’d be disappointed. But that’s your business.”
Wild curls flopped into Owen’s eyes as his head shot up in surprise. “Didn’t mean to piss you off,” he mumbled.
“You didn’t. But I will say this. Harper and I are going to be busting our asses to try and make Phoenix a successful racehorse. Ever hear of the Triple Crown?”
“You shitting me?”
“Nope. That’s our goal. If you start taking this job more seriously, we could use some help. But I got no time for bitching, slacking, or complaining. No one expects you to love the job, Owen. We just want you to have some respect for all of us, because we’re doing something important here and it’s a lot more complicated than shoveling shit. I better get back to work. If you want, you can take your break and call your friends.”
He turned his back on the kid and kept his gaze on the track. After a few seconds, he heard Owen shuffle off.
Maybe he’d think about what he said. Maybe he wouldn’t. Aidan was still glad he’d tried, though, for Harper’s sake.
He got his stopwatch out, calculating the distance and the training schedule for the next few weeks. In the past few days, they’d signed the contract, he’d settled permanently into his room, and he’d spent every hour possible studying Phoenix. Slowly, he began to learn the horse’s habits, tics, and vulnerabilities. He’d learned early on that training was mostly a mix of psychology, patience, and perseverance.
Harper appeared at the top of the hill, leading Phoenix by the bridle. Aidan studied the horse, his mind automatically filing away various facts that would help him train. The horse had a bit of a strange gait when walking, almost as if it wasn’t as natural to him as running. Interesting. He’d also seen him favoring his left side. Harper mentioned it might have been where they’d whipped and beaten him. Aidan had always preferred his jockeys avoid the whip, unless it was a tap to let the Thoroughbred kick it to the final notch. He’d need to see how skittish Phoenix got. They might need to focus on the jockey’s hands and feet movements, which he’d add to the training.
Harper stopped in front of him. The horse tossed his head, as if not wanting to be the first to ask for affection. It was a stubborn game he played, and usually Aidan acquiesced and approached Phoenix. But this time, Aidan wanted to wait him out to see if he’d make the first move.
“How do you like your new digs?” he asked.
Phoenix shot him a halfhearted glare, as if he understood the question.
Harper gave a long sigh. “We’ve had a few rough nights, but I think he’s getting more comfortable. I never met a horse who didn’t like so many other animals. Usually, they find comfort in companionship.”
Aidan gave a half grin, still waiting to see if the horse would make the first move. “He’ll be in a stall with noise, chaos, and numerous other animals on the road. If we don’t get him more comfortable now, we’ll lose before we even begin.”
“Cryptic. You writing a book on philosophy or horse training?”
“You should know better. They’re one and the same.” He ignored her charming snort and tried to keep his attention on Phoenix. Unfortunately, every muscle in his body tensed the moment her scent hit him. If only she preferred expensive, musky perfume. Instead, her natural smell of soap and skin mixed with the morning breeze made him feel halfway drunk.
But the agreement had been struck. He’d die before he broke her trust or his word, and it was just too damn bad his dick strangled against the ridge of his jeans. He’d live with it. He had no choice.
“What’s the plan for today?” she asked.
Phoenix finally broke, pushing his head against him so Aidan could rub under his chin.
“Mo chára,” he crooned, reaching out to give him the affection most horses thrived on. “I knew you couldn’t be pissed at me for long. But for now, you need to be limited on those oatmeal cookies. We’re changing your diet to a healthier version to get you in shape.”
Phoenix snorted.
He laughed and pulled back to grab his small spiral notebook. “I want you to take him around the course a few times. Get him warmed up, then when I give you the signal, open him up. We’ve kept his early morning workouts light, but we’ll interchange them now with a few bullets. The seven-week mark isn’t for several days before his official first race at Saratoga. You okay with that?”
She tilted her chin. “Of course. Did you contact your jockey?”
“Yeah, Elmo will be here tomorrow.”
She blinked. “Elmo?”
Aidan rubbed his head. “Yes, Elmo. Before that red monster came onto the scene, it was a popular and respectable name. He agreed to meet Phoenix, check out the farm, and make his decision. He already has another offer in Saratoga.”
She frowned and tapped a finger against her unpainted, plump lips, and he tried not to salivate. “He needs to be the right fit. I won’t be so desperate for a jockey I’ll compromise.”
He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him and enjoyed her obvious surprise at his reaction. “Harper, I doubt you compromise on anything. Now get your ass in the saddle and go ride. I need to make sure I’ve got most of his quirks down before we introduce the gate or riding with a competitor.”
She shot him a warning glare but donned her helmet and swung herself over the horse’s back. Aidan watched carefully, looking for any signs of stress from being ridden, but Ethan and Harper had done their job right. Phoenix took the bit and didn’t try to spit it out. Good. The horse was comfortable with getting tacked up. He was picky about who did it, but the biggest challenge for a green horse was getting them actually ready to ride.
Score one.
Harper took off, her gait graceful and comfortable. She was a true pleasure to watch in action, as if born to ride. Didn’t hurt that her staggering height and perfect ass in those tight jeans made her a stunner.
Focus.
You’re supposed to be watching Phoenix. Not the woman on his back.
Aidan took a breath, cleared his mind, and let his senses settle. He scribbled notes during the warm-up, then gave Harper the signal to begin stretching Phoenix out, pushing for speed. He hit the stopwatch. Then waited.
The horse took off and blazed a bullet path, his long black legs eating up the turf in front of him with blistering speed. Aidan clocked him at the far turn, saw him straighten out, then double up his efforts, as if imagining his own individual race where he always won, was always adored, was always accepted.