Read Online Giving Chase (A Racing Romance) (Aspen Valley Series #2) by Hannah Hooton - Free Book Online

Frankie was still only two from the rear. The crackling commentary floated over to them as they straightened up to face four more fences. Aztec Gold popped over them so neatly they passed two other horses in mid-air.
    Frankie felt the rush of the grandstand noise greet her as they passed the winning post and swung away for the final lap of the course. She nudged her mount up alongside Donnie on Aspen Valley’s second string. In tandem, they cleared the next. Donnie looked across at her and grinned, his blue gum guard not doing his battle-scarred face any favours. For a moment, Frankie saw only Donger McFarland. The hiss of flying birch as the leaders tackled the next fence brought her sharply back. They hit the jump hard.
    With her heart beating that little bit faster, she recovered her position. On their outside, Mick Farrelly was riding his horse along with intent. The second open ditch loomed. Frankie saw her stride and asked Aztec Gold to lengthen. To her right, Donnie was on the same stride. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mick, to her left, was half a stride wrong. His horse suddenly veered inwards. Aztec Gold puffed as his opponent rammed his shoulder. Frankie didn’t have time to check him. The ditch was under them. Unbalanced, the trio took off together. Frankie felt like the meat in a ham sandwich. Mick’s horse bumped them again as they landed and in a domino- effect, Aztec Gold ricocheted into Donnie’s horse. Aztec Gold scrambled for a foothold. Donnie and his horse disappeared in a nosedive. Frankie hauled at the reins and threw her weight back to counterbalance her horse’s momentum. With relief, she felt him find a level footing and right himself. The bump had knocked the stuffing out of Mick’s horse and she saw him stand up in his stirrups in surrender.
    Aztec Gold galloped on round the highest point of the course and began the descent down the backstretch. Frankie eyed the three horses in front. Rhys was a good ten lengths clear and, by his immobile posture, looked to be going strong. The jockeys in second and third were lowered over their horses’ necks in varying degrees of animation. She might not be able to catch Rhys and South of Jericho, but runner-up would be nice, especially in her first ride for Aspen Valley. But there were another eight jumps to tackle. On a downhill slope the next two fences came fast. Less than a mile to travel and the gap between herself and the third horse began to shorten. Frankie pushed for more. When Aztec Gold jumped flat over the next open ditch, the birch dragged his momentum from him. Maybe she had less horse under her than she’d thought.
    As they entered the home straight with only four fences left to take, the third-placed horse was running erratically, a sure sign of exhaustion. The pair overtook them in mid-air three from home. Gritting her teeth, Frankie put her head down and drove Aztec Gold forward for all she was worth. Her chest tightened painfully with the effort. When she steadied for the second last, she saw Rhys well clear. There was no chance they’d catch him unless he fell at the last. The rolling hindquarters of the second-placed horse taunted her four lengths ahead. Yet try as she might, try as Aztec Gold might, they couldn’t close the gap.
    Aztec Gold jumped awkwardly over the last, his energy reserves teetering on zero. The roar of the crowd urging them home barely registered to Frankie. Far more concerning was the thunder of hooves coming from behind. She ducked her head to look behind. Evan, that of the promiscuous nephew, was making a late bid from the rear of the field.
    Frankie knew she couldn’t win, second place was also out of her grasp, but she’d be damned if she was going to forfeit third.
    ‘Come on, Aztec!’ she tried to yell, but only a croak broke from her burning lungs.
    Like a weary climber grasping for higher and higher rope, Evan’s horse began to inch up beside them. The horses bumped shoulders. Frankie’s