“New partner, new venture,” Cat said. “Dean, this is Aidan McKenna, one of Ireland’s best trainers.”
Aidan started at the unexpected compliment and held out a hand to Hill. The man was younger than his silver hair indicated, perhaps in his early forties. His narrow face was smooth but for a few crinkles at the outside corner of his brown eyes.
Dean looked him up and down before taking the offered hand. “McKenna. That’s familiar.”
Aidan noted the other man’s fierce grip as they shook. His was trim but muscular. “My brother Cashel and I are trainers. We own McKenna Racing. A few years back, we had a horse place in the Arlington Million.” And with their share of the winnings, they’d had enough money to buy an exceptional filly they had trained from the owners they worked for. Plus, they’d been able to pay an exorbitant stud fee to get Mac.
“You’re what?” Hill asked. “Expanding to the U.S.?”
“Something like that, at least for the racing season.”
“And at least one breeding season,” Cat added. “That’s where I come into the partnership.” She stepped back. “Excuse me while I look in on Fairy Tail.”
“Good, good,” Dean said without taking his eyes off Aidan.
Odd that the man didn’t follow Cat into the stall, Aidan thought. When Mac’s dam, Bold Lass, was being bred, he’d wanted to know every detail of everything that was going on. Then again, the owner did have eleven mares. Perhaps he’d had too much experience to want to know every detail.
“What are your immediate plans?” Hill asked.
“To run my colt in some upcoming graded stakes races.”
“Your colt. You mean you train him.”
“And own him, as well. My brother Cashel and I bought his dam and bred her.”
“Then you’re expanding the business,” Hill said.
“In this one case. I’m a trainer at heart,” Aidan admitted. “I’m more interested in training colts and fillies to win than in producing foals.”
“Why bring him here to run him on dirt?”
“That’s the grand challenge. Mac Finnian is faster on dirt than he is on grass.”
Hill’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, well, he’ll probably be running against one of my colts eventually. I have a training farm just down the road, and I have a couple of colts who are ready for the right race. I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”
Before Aidan could question him about which colt, which race, Cat left the broodmare’s stall saying, “Fairy Tail looks good.”
Hill gave her a once-over, as if meeting her for the first time. “As do you, dear Cat. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in such elegant splendor.”
Cat laughed. “What? Muck-covered jeans and sweatshirts aren’t elegant?”
“You’re a natural beauty, no matter what you wear.”
Aidan listened to the interchange in silence. Considering how charming Hill was being, he must be taken with Cat. Aidan didn’t blame him. The fine-looking lass had invaded his dreams, after all. “Glad to meet you, Hill. I need to see to my colt now.”
“And I need to get going. I have some business to take care of myself.” The man focused back on Cat. “I’m confident that together, we’re going to produce a spectacular crop of foals next spring.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Two down and nine to go.” Hill indicated Fairy Tail. “Or perhaps it’s three and eight.”
Aidan started to move off.
“Hopefully. And hopefully the first foal born will be a champion,” Cat said, then called, “Aidan, wait up.” She rushed to catch up to him. “I would like to check on Mac myself.”
There was a touch of possessiveness in her tone that made Aidan clench his jaw. He told himself that she simply wanted to see to the colt’s welfare now that he was in her barn, and he couldn’t fault her for that.
Horses along the aisle hung out their heads as they passed. Aidan patted everyone on his side and noted that Cat did the same on the other. Her love for horses was evident in her gentle touch and in the soft murmurings with which she greeted each mare. All twelve box stalls in the aisle were in use.
“All of these are Hill’s mares, and two of them already pregnant.”
“That kind of surprised me, too, that both got pregnant in their first season. We’ll see about Fairy Tail. Another of Dean’s mares is about to ovulate, as well. The vet will palpate her tomorrow to see if she’s ready to meet False Promise.”
“This lad?” he asked, when they reached the end of the aisle where a blood bay stallion with a white star on his forehead dozed in his stall.
Aidan stopped at the door to take a better look. Cat stopped next to him, too close for his comfort. Her arm brushing his left a swath of heat shooting through him.
“That’s Dean’s champion,” she confirmed.
“Aye, he’s a handsome lad. He should sire some grand foals.”
“Fingers crossed. I have other clients, too. They share the aisle on the other side of the barn. Right now, only eight of the stalls are in use. Martin Bradley brought in four of his broodmares and his own stallion from his farm,” she said, mindful of Jack’s threat to bring in the horses she used to own, as well. “My own horses—six mares, a stallion, a teaser and two geldings—are in the middle aisle. Plus Mac,” she added.
Again, she spoke in a possessive tone, as if the colt belonged to her. Aidan fought a twitch of discomfort.
“Mac won’t be there for long,” he assured her. “The first stakes race is barely two weeks away. We need to get him in a stall at the track so he can start working out there every morning and so I can find a jockey. Unless you’ve already made all the arrangements.”
“No, of course not. I got the paperwork going, and I planned to take you over there tomorrow, so you can see the facility and the stalls available. How would I know your preference?”
Aidan told himself to relax already. He didn’t need to go looking for trouble. No matter that he’d feared he’d gone from the frying pan into the fire, Cat wasn’t his older brother. She wasn’t making decisions for him as Cashel would.
“In the meantime, I have a short track opposite the pastures.” She moved away from the stallion. “You can start stretching Mac’s legs tomorrow before we go to the track if you want.”
“That sounds like a fine idea, though he won’t be breaking any speed records with me on his back.”
“Just think of how much faster he’ll be when he gets a lightweight jockey.”
A few seconds later, Aidan heard a man’s deep voice call out, “Cat, you in here?”
“Over here, Martin,” she called, then lowered her voice. “My other best client.”
A burly man with unnaturally dark hair, as if it had been dyed, popped out of the far aisle. “We brought Sweetpea Sue a little early.”
“We?”
He stepped his aviator glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Simone is putting her in the stall next to Quick Pick.”
Cat forced a smile. “No problem.”
“The problem is Quick Pick isn’t pregnant yet.”