winner?” There was so much potential in the stables at Quest, but the most time and money was spent on a handful of top prospects.
“I would think we are always planning for that.” Marcus gave a stiff nod to both of them. “Right now, we’re lucky to be racing any horses at all. My priority is keeping all of our horses in top condition until this scandal with Legacy is cleared up.”
With that, he left the office, stalking off to the stable or paddocks or wherever he was needed. Robbie’s blood simmered at the guy’s casual attitude about plans for the future.
“This guy is the salvation of Quest’s future?” he asked himself as much as Melanie.
She slid back into her boots and said nothing for a long moment.
“He’s done well since he’s been here. We just need to give him a chance.” She finally said the polite thing, but Robbie could tell her heart wasn’t in it.
He left the stable office in a black mood, determined to get the hell out of Dodge today. He might not relocate all the way into Twisted River in deference to his grandfather, but he could at least move his things into one of the cabins where the other trainers lived.
That was all he was around here, anyway. Marcus’s arrival had proven Robbie wasn’t a Preston on the fast track to success in the family business. He’d always stood a little outside the family, so he might as well live that reality now. If not for his devotion to the horses he’d raised himself, and a passion for racing, he would have left long ago. And really, if not for his grandfather, Robbie might have been tempted to take a few of his horses and start up a small stable of his own.
It was still something to consider.
And he would. Right after he went into town to lift a toast to his displaced status. A day like this one surely deserved a drink.
Chapter Two
The next morning, Robbie remembered why he shouldn’t drink.
He’d had a hell of a time drowning his anger until all hours, but since he didn’t cut himself any slack on his workday, he’d rolled out of bed with a hangover to face the same problems he’d left the day before.
Now, he finished exercising one of the colts Daniel Whittleson had purchased for the stables and passed off the reins to a groom. The horse was fast, his carriage solid, but the animal was peaking too fast.
“How many more are you going to take out?” a child’s voice called to him.
Robbie turned to see a scrawny kid watching him from the fence around the practice yard. His spiky dark hair was lighter at the tips, and the boy looked like a mini surfer dude with his tanned skin and board shorts. He wore flip-flops and a faded T-shirt under an open sweatshirt.
Robbie couldn’t remember seeing him around before, although with Quest’s extensive staff, there were certainly plenty of kids who lived on the property.
“Who wants to know?” Robbie strode closer to the fence, not minding a break. Besides, he’d served enough time standing at that fence all by himself in his youth to appreciate being the odd man out.
Hell, for that matter, welcome to his life today. He never had quite caught up to Brent and Andrew, his two older brothers, in the old man’s eyes.
“Kiefer Emory.” The boy straightened his skinny shoulders, though his feet remained planted on the lowest wooden rail. “I’m learning about horses. You sure ride a lot of ’em.”
Robbie couldn’t identify the accent, which didn’t have the softened vowels of a Kentucky native.
“I’m a hands-on trainer, so I like to ride them to test their skills.” He leaned against the fence and soaked up the September sun. His hungover eyes finally seemed to be recovering from the perpetual squint he’d had earlier in the day. “And I’m Robbie Preston, by the way. Nice to meet you.”
Kiefer shook his hand with unexpected seriousness, like a mini grown-up. When he didn’t say any more, Robbie prodded him.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Do your parents work at Quest?”
“My mom started as the new office manager. We moved from Los Angeles last week.”
That explained the surfer-dude clothes. And Robbie remembered his own mother mentioning a new hire for the position. She’d decided to take a chance on the woman from L.A. because she was a widow.
A damn young widow if this kid was anything to go by. The idea of the boy hanging out at the rail by himself bugged Robbie.
“Welcome to Kentucky. And if you want to learn about horses, you’ve come to the right place.” He was about to invite the boy into the stables to see the horses close up when a flash of color caught his eye.
Looking up, he spotted the woman he’d seen speaking to Marcus yesterday. Only now, all traces of her easy laugh had disappeared. She charged toward them with determined steps, her jaw set and her lips compressed into a flat, disapproving line.
“Kiefer,” she called the moment she got within hearing range and then hastened her pace. “You’re supposed to be with Max at the after-school program here.”
The boy turned, hopping off the fence rail as his mother reached them, her silky blouse and flowered skirt fluttering lightly in the breeze.
“But I told you I was coming here to watch the horses after I got off the bus. Remember?” Kiefer gestured toward the fence rail.
Or…toward Robbie?
“Ah.” The woman seemed to notice him then, her sharp brown gaze taking him in with the careful perusal of a protective mother and not even an ounce of feminine interest.
His ego definitely would have smarted if not for his knowledge that she’d lost a husband. He had no idea how long ago that might have happened, but he couldn’t imagine the pain of losing someone that close to you.
“Robbie Preston, ma’am.” He held out a hand to her, strangely eager for her to take it.
He’d noticed her yesterday and remembered her after only a quick sighting. That was unusual for him. Not that he didn’t attract his fair share of female attention. But he’d been so focused on work the last few years—so hell bent on winning family approval and the chance to head up Quest’s training program—that he hadn’t spent much time dating. His relationships had been low-key and often pursued by the ladies who wanted them.
For a woman to turn his head without even trying was a new experience. Especially a widow with a son. Hell, his hangover must have scrambled his brains.
“Amanda Emory.” She took his hand as briefly as possible, her short pink nails barely registering before her hand was back at her side. “I’m the new office manager and I’m so sorry if my son has been pestering you.”
She looped an arm around the boy as if to whisk him away from a big, bad dragon.
The thought gave him pause. Had she been listening to family gossip about his supposed hothead nature? The idea rankled.
“He’s
