Page 45 of Hats off to Love

“Okay . . .” He draws the word out, his tone telling me to get to the point.

“They’re drinking tea, I’m minding my own business, and she starts talking about downsizing her hat to a fascinator since they don’t have a Derby contender this year and she doesn’t feel the need to be large and flashy.”

“What do you mean? What happened to Big Red?” he asks, frowning.

“Laminitis.”

Stokes’s face pales.

“Right!” I throw out my hands. “I felt so bad for her, but then, while I’m getting ready for your mom’s party, my mother tells me about the fire at Shaded Oaks Farm and how poor Black Bandit has smoke inhalation and won’t be running the rest of the season.”

His lips press together. I’m certain just from hearing about those two incidents he’s now following my train of thought.

“But then it gets worse.” My heart starts pounding as this is the part where he will think I’m crazy or onto something.

“How so?” His hands are back on his waist, and his eyes have switched to laser beam mode. I feel like they are boring into me, not in a bad way, just that he’s hyper-focused on what he’s hearing.

I then tell him how people come in and gossip, how I heard about the stolen horse from Blanton Farm, and then about today with Smooth Jazz from Bluegrass Fields Farm.

“Look here.” I hand him the paper. “I’ve done my best to get the timeline correct. You’ll see the date of the incident with each farm, what race it was before, the points awarded, and the purse attached to it. All four of these farms are now out of the Derby, and something in my gut says that’s too much of a coincidence, too many of the best farms in Louisville, and I’m afraid your farm is next.”

His eyes snap to mine from looking at the timeline. There’s no wariness or uncertainty in them, just shock and anger. He’s processing what I’ve told him, as he should.

Sabotage in the horseracing community is as old as the sport. People go crazy over the money and have done the dumbest things. There’s obviously doping the horses, but there’s also bribing jockeys and swapping horses, and one time someone even painted a horse to look like another, not considering that when it sweat from running the race, the color would drip off.

A loud knock on the door startles me, and I jump. Stokes lets out a deep sigh, and the hand holding the paper drops to his side while I go to answer the door for our dinner. He begins pacing in front of the windows, the evening light making him even more gorgeous than he already is.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Pacing means he’s thinking, and where before this tic of his would annoy me, now I find it somewhat endearing.

I can’t really blame him. The more I’ve thought about all of this, the more I’m convinced there is foul play happening. If one or two things happen, sure, that’s coincidental, but four, and right here in Louisville at the end leading into the Derby—it’s too much.

He turns to look at me and tilts his head. “Two cases of laminitis?”

“Right?” I’ve set the food on the table, I grabbed dishes and silverware, and I’m now scooping out some salad into two bowls for us.

“And neither one said what caused it?” He starts rubbing his forehead.

“Nope.” I grab a bottle of wine and two glasses and pour myself a hefty amount.

“It’s insane how I really haven’t heard about any of this. I mean news of the fire spread around, but the others have been really quiet.” He grabs his beer off the floor, walks to the table, and sits down.

“Do you think I’m crazy? Do you think there’s reason to be concerned here?” I take the seat next to him. Garlic wafts up between us, and my stomach growls. I know Stokes likes sausage, so I ordered a sausage rigatoni for him and a pasta carbonara for me.

“No, I don’t think you’re crazy, and honestly, I’m not sure. For all of these things to have happened in the last month, and to elite farms and horses . . . it is suspicious. I understand why your brain went where it did. At this point, I can’t see how we shouldn’t be worried about it.”

Relief washes through me.

“What are you going to do?” I take a bite and almost moan at how good it tastes.

He rubs a hand over his face. “I need to tell my mother, and I need to have a conversation with security. Maybe we need to amp up a bit for these next two weeks.” He picks up his fork and takes a bite, although I’m not sure if he’s actually tasting the food or just consuming it.

“At least nothing happened during the party.”

He looks at me, and his brows pull down. “Grayson called last minute before the party and told me he was taking Ace and a few others off the property. He said he had this strange feeling buzzing on his skin, and he didn’t like it. Said with all the people coming to the house, he felt we needed to be a little more cautious.”