Jockeying for You Read Free

her to go first.
    “I’ll stick with the ice water. Thanks,” she replied.
    “Do you want anything to eat? Since I’m the one interviewing, I’m buying.” He allowed himself to give her a smile.
    “Thank you. I guess I have time for a salad before I have to go back to work.”
    He quirked up an eyebrow. “That’s it? Are you sure?”
    She nodded. “A Waldorf salad, please. Dressing on the side.”
    “Okay Robert, you heard the lady. I’ll get the filet mignon. Medium rare.”
    “Very good, sir. Right away,” the waiter replied before hustling toward the kitchen.
    “When I’m hungry,” Jake said wryly, “nothing gets done, so I hope you don’t suffer the same way. I feel like I’m eating with a jockey.”
    “Since I used to be one, you kind of are. I still have a ‘eat light’ mentality. I think it’s ingrained at this point. I don’t notice what I’m missing because I’m not used to having it anyway.”
    “I heard about your racing record.”
    He could see her body tense up. “My fall was a mistake. A jockey’s mistake. But I don’t make mistakes as a trainer.”
    “Relax, I didn’t say what I heard about your past was bad. I heard you were quite good until your accident.” He observed her lips were tight. A straight line of pressed flesh.
    “I focus on the future, not the past,” she answered. “Both in my life and in my profession.” Her voice was courteous but clipped.
    Clearly, he had hit a bump with her. If she were any tenser she could be a filly at the starting gate for the first time. “Well, we can talk about jockeying later.” He observed her nod slowly. No matter how tense she was, this was one business lunch he didn’t want to end.
    Ryder hardly ate the delectable Waldorf salad in front of her, picking at the lettuce as if she were back to being a fussy eater in second grade. Why had she mentioned anything about having been a jockey? He had made only a light reference to riding and she cringed as if he’d thrown a bucket of cold water over her.
    An image sprang into her head, the memory of it colder and wetter. The afternoon of her fall. Track conditions deteriorating from a downpour that would not let up. All that morning anxiously awaiting updated weather reports, none of them getting any better. Thunder and lightning setting in. Flashes bright enough to light up the black sky. Thunder loud enough to sound like God himself was snapping a jockey’s whip. Wind and sheets of rain pouring in with such intensity the atmosphere was no more than an electrically charged blur.
    Ten minutes later, the storm had stopped. The skies cleared to a dull gray a few hours before the races. The track had dried out enough for the authorities to allow the race to go on but posted on the board the track conditions were ‘poor.’
    Ryder had almost bitten her lip off in indecision. She knew she was largely untested in poor conditions. The horse she was on had some experience on muddy turf, though, so she had taken the calculated risk. But hadn’t calculated enough. Five minutes before the bugle sounded the rain came down once again. Within moments of the downpour the track’s status was downgraded from ‘poor’ to ‘sloppy.’
    Wet earth quickly turning into mini rivers. Face stinging from cold rain. And then falling as the horse went down, tripped by the horse in front of it . . .
    “Um, Ryder? You okay? You look a bit pale.”
    “Oh. Sorry. I’m fine, really. Just feeling a little cold is all. The air conditioning in here is nice. I’m not used to it.” She laughed nervously. “The stables are like a big oven it’s so hot in there.”
    Her lips stretched out into a smile she hoped would put him at ease. Why am I reliving such an old memory? For someone who espoused not dwelling in the past, she was hardly living up to her own words.
    “Would you like my jacket?” Jake offered, already getting up to shrug it off.
    “You’re very sweet, but I’ll be fine.”
    She ate