The bell rings. The gates snap open. Jupiter Rising breaks clean.
I suck in a breath, my jaw tightening as the pack surges forward. He’s not leading, but he’s not trailing either. He’s right where he needs to be, stride smooth, ears forward.
The roar of the crowd crests as the horses thunder past the finish line. Jupiter Rising doesn’t win. But he finishes strong, charging up the rail in the final stretch, closing the gap in a way that has heads turning and voices rising in surprise. Secondplace. Close enough that it matters and people will remember his name.
♥♥♥
I don’t see her again right away. Time stretches after the race the way it always does with congratulations traded, tickets torn up, and drinks ordered. I find myself walking the grounds without purpose, replaying the way Jupiter Rising moved, the way Nicole stood beside him like she belonged to that moment leading to the loading gate and reassuring him as he readied for the race.
I tell myself I’m looking for her because she might be working with Red Ledger now. It’s sort of an excuse or lie I use to find her. I spot her near the paddock entrance a couple of hours later. For a second, my brain refuses to reconcile what I’m seeing.
Nicole isn’t in riding pants now. She isn’t zipped into a windbreaker. She’s wearing a light, flowing dress patterned with small flowers. The fabric moves easily with the breeze. A wide-brimmed hat shades her face, softening her features. She looks … radiant and alive. Like the race and excitement didn’t drain her … but charged her. She’s laughing with someone just out of view, her whole body turned toward the sound. The sight lands in my gut, sharp and unwelcome.
Jealousy. I recognize it immediately. I don’t like it or understand why it’s there. She spots me before I can look away. Her face lights up in a genuine expression.
“Harrison,” she says, walking toward me like this is the most natural thing in the world. “Did you see that finish?”
“I did,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “Hell of a run.”
“He exceeded expectations,” she says, practically glowing. “That’s the sweet spot for me as his trainer. I’m really pleased with Jupiter Rising.”
I nod. “Congratulations. Each day you’re making me more of a believer. You heading out?”
“Yes, well sort of.” She gestures over her shoulder. “There’s a post-race dinner. The owner invited me.”
The wordownerlands wrong. Something twists low in my stomach before I can stop it.
“That so,” I say.
She studies me for a second, something knowing in her eyes. Then she smiles, amused.
“You should come,” she says. “As my guest.”
I blink. “I—”
“Only if you want to,” she adds easily. “No pressure.”
Pressure is exactly what I feel. This wasn’t part of the plan. Today was about the horse. Suddenly she’s standing here in a dress that makes it very clear she’s not only a trainer … and I’m being invited into something that feels personal whether she intends it or not.But I wanted to see her. She’s invited me. Why am I resisting?
“Alright,” I say. “I’ll come.”
Her smile widens. “Good.”
We walk together toward the parking lot, and only then does she add casually, “Oh, and just so you’re not surprised … the owner is Margaret Hale. She’s in her seventies. Her late husband got her into racing years ago. She kept it going after he passed.”
I stop short. Nicole glances back at me, one eyebrow lifting.
“Problem?”
“No,” I say, heat creeping up my neck. “No problem.”
She laughs softly and turns back toward the path, the sleeve of her dress brushing my arm as she passes. I fall into step beside her.
How could I let my mind run ahead of me? I’m imagining rooms I haven’t entered, conversations I haven’t heard, men I haven’t met. Other owners. Other trainers. Other people who might look at Nicole and see exactly what I’m trying not to.
I haven’t asked her out. I haven’t crossed a single line. And still, the idea of her belonging, even briefly, in someone else’s orbit sits wrong inside. That’s when it hits me.
I didn’t underestimate her skill. I underestimated how fast Nicole has gotten under my skin — and how little control I have now that she’s there.
