Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
• Twenty-Three •
“I will never join that club—I can promise you that.”
Capri
My phone began ringing the moment I crossed the Tennessee state line. I’d been on the road for almost three hours. I’d be in Knoxville early, but it would give me time to get some lunch before going to meet with the trainer at J&N Farm.
Glancing down, I saw the number of the trainer I was headed to see. I pressed Accept and placed the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Uh, Capri,” the voice said over the line.
“Yes.”
He cleared his throat. “I … well, we decided on another jockey. I didn’t want you to get too far this way and waste your time. Thanks for your willingness to come here, and I wish you the best of luck.”
I slowed my speed even though I was still on the interstate. Was he really canceling hours before our meeting? When he knew I had to be on the road from Madison already?
“Okay, thanks,” I replied, trying to mask my anger before ending the call.
I had nothing more to say to the man. If that was how they did business, I didn’t want to work with them anyway.
Looking for the next exit so I could stop, get something to drink, fuel up, and turn around to drive back home, I wished I’d asked him who he had chosen. I’d let him off too easy. I should have pressed more. Made him uncomfortable or at least feel some remorse for letting me drive this far before canceling.
My phone rang again, and I snatched it up, thinking he might be calling back. The number wasn’t from Tennessee. It was from Kentucky. There was no possible way that they were canceling too. Probably just confirming tomorrow.
I pulled off at the exit while I pressed Accept.
“Hello?” I said brightly, not wanting my foul mood to come through the phone.
“Capri, this is Julio Naws from Three Branches Stables,” he said as if I didn’t know who was calling.
“Yes,” I replied, already not liking the way he sounded.
“I’m calling to let you know that we have hired our jockey for the upcoming races. I do appreciate your availability, and I hope that we might get a chance to work together in the future.”
My jaw dropped. I turned into a service station parking lot, trying to figure out how in the heck this had just happened. Both of them canceling within ten minutes’ time? Had I done something wrong?
“Uh, okay,” I replied, trying to find my words this time. “I—can I ask why you settled on someone already without even giving me a chance?”
He sighed, and I winced. That was never a good sign.
“It’s just racing. Don’t take it personal. We all want to win,” he replied with the most generic answer he could have mustered up.
Yeah, we all wanted to win. But there was a reason why both had decided I wasn’t their jockey before even meeting with me. They’d been very interested a week ago. Begging me to come see them, offering to fly me to Kentucky.
“Yes, well, thanks for letting me know soon enough to change my plans. Goodbye,” I said in a clipped tone even worse than the one I’d used on the last one.
Slamming my hands on the steering wheel, I glared at the fast-food chain across the street. Didn’t seem like I was going to be racing a horse anytime soon. Shephard Ranch hadn’t called me either. I wasn’t sure if they ever planned to again. I might as well go get a milkshake and fries after filling up my tank.
Almost six hours in total burned on a road trip that hadn’t actually happened and a thousand calories I shouldn’t have eaten, I pulled up into my driveway. My mood had gone from bad to worse. This day had started off so promising, then plummeted in a nosedive that I hadn’t expected.
Getting out of the car, I slammed my door shut with more force than she deserved really. I loved my car, and she was getting up in age. I didn’t need to be so rough with her. Turning, I went to get my suitcase out of the trunk before making my way to the house. I was almost to the porch when my gaze fell on the familiar pink bakery box sitting in front of the door.
The small rein I had on my temper snapped, and I dropped my suitcase and stormed up the steps to jerk the box up and rip it open to find one dozen lemon crinkle cookies. Gritting my teeth, I slammed it closed and turned, heading back to my car. Opening it back up, I tossed the cookies on the passenger seat, then went to get my suitcase and tossed it back inside before getting in and heading toward Shephard Ranch.