“Just some joker’s idea of fun,” Flex said. He had orderedPannekoeken,a kind of pancake. He looked dashing in his pink shirt, black pants, and black plaid sack coat, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.
“I don’t like people playing games at our expense,” Jake said darkly.
“You aren’t expecting more trouble, are you?” Ellie thought about Jube and Rose, and worry filtered through her.
“I’ve had a guard posted at the stables every day since we landed in Paris. Whoever did it is probably still in New York, but I’d rather play it safe.”
Ellie felt a little better. “How do you think the team’s shaping up?”
“Everyone’s riding well except Shep. But he’ll settle down. He always does. Nothing bothers Prissy. Clay’s winning as usual, but he’s been a real S.O.B. all week.”
“Maybe he needs to get laid,” Flex teased, then his grin slipped as he caught Ellie’s turbulent expression. Jake noticed it too.
“You’d do well to keep your mind on the horses, Ellie,” Jake said.
Ellie toyed with her food, no longer hungry. “I know I haven’t been winning enough. Maybe I should get in a few more hours of practice a day.”
“It isn’t your riding I’m talking about. Whitfield’s a handful. You’ve got about all you can handle right now.”
Her eyes met his. “Not you, too, Jake. Why do I keep getting lectures about Clay? For God’s sake, we’ve never even been out on a date.”
“I don’t think Whitfield’s interested in a date,” Jake warned. “More like a one-night stand.”
“It isn’t always that easy,” Flex defended her. “You better than anyone ought to understand.”
Jake’s gaze swung to Flex. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m talking about the way you look at Maggie Delaine. What happened between you two, anyway?”
“That isn’t any of your business.”
Flex grinned good-naturedly. “Never stopped me before.”
A corner of Jake’s mouth tilted into a smile. “Very little stops you, Flex. But that’s probably what makes you such a damn fine rider.”
Flex’s grin widened. A compliment from Jake Sullivan was a gift.
When they arrived back at the hotel, Flex walked Ellie to her first-floor room.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said.
“My pleasure,” Flex said. “By the way, Clay’s barely speaking to me. I think our little campaign is working.”
“Oh, sure. That’s why he’s out to dinner with Linda Gibbons.”
“Is he?” Flex seemed surprised.
“I don’t know. Probably.”
“Cheer up. Things’ll either work out or they won’t. For Clay’s sake more than yours, I hope they do.” He leaned over and bussed her cheek, took her key, and opened her door.
“Good night, Ellie.” He handed her the key.
“Good night, Flex.”
As she stepped into the room, Ellie flipped on the overhead light. She felt bone tired, though she wasn’t quite sure why. The horses had arrived with no problems. They’d had a pleasant evening. At least she and Flex had. She wasn’t sure about Jake.
Except for his comments about Clay—out of the norm for Jake—he’d been even quieter than usual. What was he so worried about? Or was it just seeing Maggie again that had him on edge?
