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Authors: Sherilyn Gray
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the
Winner’s Circle.
Yes! The joy surged through her.
The crowd roared High Impact’s name. The announcer
announced their victory. A win by a stride. Sasha laughed out loud, standing up
tall in the stirrups to wave at the crowd.
“Good boy!” She pressed her face against his neck as they
slowed to a canter, the crowd’s jubilation echoing in her veins.
In a blur, she was at the Winner’s Circle. A riot of
flashbulbs, the parade in front of the press and jubilant crowd. Then the heavy
drape of the red rose blanket across her legs, the intoxicating scent of 554
red roses all over her and Heavy Impact. She normally preferred tulips but in
this once instance, she’d make an exception. She threw her head back and
laughed.
Linc, the trainer at Taylor Stables, ambled over them,
took the reins. Tall, brown, and with a head full of prematurely gray hair, he
always seemed to be smiling. She’d liked him the moment they met.
“Sasha, you were brilliant!” He said, roughly patting
Heavy Impact’s neck, gave her booted leg a squeeze. “A perfect race.”
“I told you we’d do it, Linc!” She felt the dimples dig
even deeper into her cheeks with her smile. She’d known Impact was ready, that
he could do it.
She jumped down from the saddle and into Linc’s arms. His
hug was warm, smelling of the stables and of the still bright evening sunshine.
Someone took her arm, guiding her away from him and toward another set of
cameras. Linc took off her jockey’s hat, grinning. Suddenly conscious of her
hat hair, Sasha ran her fingers through her shoulder length black locks,
shaking the thick mane away from her face just a camera flashed.
“Mr. Taylor! Right here, please, sir!” A voice called out
just to the right of Sasha.
A moment later, Damien Taylor, the owner of Taylor
Stables appeared at her side. Sasha’s face instantly grew warm, then her body
flushed even more. A familiar reaction whenever she was in the presence of her
boss, even though they’d never spoken more than a few words to each other the
entire year she’d ridden for him. His all-American good looks—blond hair,
killer blue eyes, and a face straight from a fashion magazine—had inspired
quite a few early morning fantasies when they’d first met. Luckily, she’d
gotten over her infatuation. Almost.
Damien Taylor flashed a bright smile. He warmly grasped
her shoulder as the flashbulbs exploded and the cameras rolled. Standing so
close to him, his six foot plus height made her 5 foot 2 feel even shorter. He
smelled like mint julep and sunscreen. Just then, someone pushed a microphone
in his face and asked him a question about the horse, how it felt to win the
Derby. His deep voice rumbled pleasantly as he answered the question, nodding
his head to Sasha.
“Sasha and Impact did all the work,” he said, smiling at
her again. His arm fell away from her shoulder and she immediately missed its
warmth.
The reporter turned to her. “You are the best looking
thing out here,” he said, gearing up for a question. “I’m sure that smile of
yours helped to win the race.”
Because I surely couldn’t just be a good jockey.
“Why thank you,” Sasha said, raising an acerbic eyebrow
in his direction. “And that shade of makeup does wonders for your dreamy brown
eyes.”
He stared at her blankly for a second before chuckling,
his veneers flashing in the brilliant sunlight. “You’re such a little
jokester,” he said. “What was the best moment of today?” He stuck the
microphone back in her face.
“The win, of course.”
Another blank look. Then he thanked her, moved back to
Damien. Sasha took that moment to step away from the reporter and Mr. Taylor’s
mind-scrambling presence.
Linc shook his head, though he was smiling, his teeth a
white flash in his brown face. “One day that smart mouth of yours is going to
get you in trouble, young lady.”
She laughed,
Winner’s Circle.
Yes! The joy surged through her.
The crowd roared High Impact’s name. The announcer
announced their victory. A win by a stride. Sasha laughed out loud, standing up
tall in the stirrups to wave at the crowd.
“Good boy!” She pressed her face against his neck as they
slowed to a canter, the crowd’s jubilation echoing in her veins.
In a blur, she was at the Winner’s Circle. A riot of
flashbulbs, the parade in front of the press and jubilant crowd. Then the heavy
drape of the red rose blanket across her legs, the intoxicating scent of 554
red roses all over her and Heavy Impact. She normally preferred tulips but in
this once instance, she’d make an exception. She threw her head back and
laughed.
Linc, the trainer at Taylor Stables, ambled over them,
took the reins. Tall, brown, and with a head full of prematurely gray hair, he
always seemed to be smiling. She’d liked him the moment they met.
“Sasha, you were brilliant!” He said, roughly patting
Heavy Impact’s neck, gave her booted leg a squeeze. “A perfect race.”
“I told you we’d do it, Linc!” She felt the dimples dig
even deeper into her cheeks with her smile. She’d known Impact was ready, that
he could do it.
She jumped down from the saddle and into Linc’s arms. His
hug was warm, smelling of the stables and of the still bright evening sunshine.
Someone took her arm, guiding her away from him and toward another set of
cameras. Linc took off her jockey’s hat, grinning. Suddenly conscious of her
hat hair, Sasha ran her fingers through her shoulder length black locks,
shaking the thick mane away from her face just a camera flashed.
“Mr. Taylor! Right here, please, sir!” A voice called out
just to the right of Sasha.
A moment later, Damien Taylor, the owner of Taylor
Stables appeared at her side. Sasha’s face instantly grew warm, then her body
flushed even more. A familiar reaction whenever she was in the presence of her
boss, even though they’d never spoken more than a few words to each other the
entire year she’d ridden for him. His all-American good looks—blond hair,
killer blue eyes, and a face straight from a fashion magazine—had inspired
quite a few early morning fantasies when they’d first met. Luckily, she’d
gotten over her infatuation. Almost.
Damien Taylor flashed a bright smile. He warmly grasped
her shoulder as the flashbulbs exploded and the cameras rolled. Standing so
close to him, his six foot plus height made her 5 foot 2 feel even shorter. He
smelled like mint julep and sunscreen. Just then, someone pushed a microphone
in his face and asked him a question about the horse, how it felt to win the
Derby. His deep voice rumbled pleasantly as he answered the question, nodding
his head to Sasha.
“Sasha and Impact did all the work,” he said, smiling at
her again. His arm fell away from her shoulder and she immediately missed its
warmth.
The reporter turned to her. “You are the best looking
thing out here,” he said, gearing up for a question. “I’m sure that smile of
yours helped to win the race.”
Because I surely couldn’t just be a good jockey.
“Why thank you,” Sasha said, raising an acerbic eyebrow
in his direction. “And that shade of makeup does wonders for your dreamy brown
eyes.”
He stared at her blankly for a second before chuckling,
his veneers flashing in the brilliant sunlight. “You’re such a little
jokester,” he said. “What was the best moment of today?” He stuck the
microphone back in her face.
“The win, of course.”
Another blank look. Then he thanked her, moved back to
Damien. Sasha took that moment to step away from the reporter and Mr. Taylor’s
mind-scrambling presence.
Linc shook his head, though he was smiling, his teeth a
white flash in his brown face. “One day that smart mouth of yours is going to
get you in trouble, young lady.”
She laughed,
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