Wolfe remained silent as they headed to the ticket counter and collected their winnings. Seemed like Ed and Gen had bonded, since they both did a little dance with their money in hand. How sweet.
Suddenly she pressed two bills into his palm. “Here you go. Two hundred dollars, ten percent for the loan. I don’t think I’ll need any more money from you today, so thanks.”
Uh-oh.
In seconds, the mood chilled. Three guys gazed at him as if he was the scum of the earth.
“You made her pay interest?” Ed asked. “I thought you guys were friends.”
He refused to shift his feet. “Just a joke.”
Gen laughed. “Yeah, right! You never joke about money—you probably would’ve sicced a loan shark on me.”
Shit. Tom fisted his hands, and Steve practically spit in disgust. “That’s lame, man,” Tom said. “Ed was short this week so I lent him money. No interest though. But I guess friendship means different things to different people.”
Gen shrugged it off, completely clueless to the pissing contest currently going on in her honor. “Nah, it’s okay. Millionaires are kinda tight with their money anyway.”
Steve choked. “You’re a millionaire?”
Double shit. This was going nowhere. Wolfe glared, giving Steve the intimidating look he saved for his business meetings. “Forget it, I’m not explaining. Gen and I go way back.”
“I bet.” Ed glared, not the least bit intimidated, and hooked his arm through Gen’s. “Come on, I’ll buy you a hot dog.”
“But I won more money than you.”
“Score another race and you buy the beer.”
“Deal. Coming, Wolfe?”
“Yeah. Coming.” He trailed behind the chattering group and wondered how the day could get worse.
THREE HOURS LATER, WOLFE realized he shouldn’t have asked such a question to the universe.
He sat alone, racing form in his lap, and watched the growing crowd at the picnic table. Mostly men. Surrounding Gen. Not sure how it had happened.
She’d won race two with another long shot on Magic Dude. He’d followed her to the rail, watched another of his horses lose, but managed to keep her off Ed’s shoulders. Or Tom’s. Or whoever the hell they were.
Somehow, in all her excitement, she had managed to recruit two new followers. One with a military cut and roving eyes, the other his skinny sidekick, who looked harmless. Wolfe already knew it was impossible to win three races in a row on raw luck, so he stuck to his original plan. He picked Hammering Halo at three to one, since they were racing on turf and the horse had the best grass trainer in history.
Gen scored again on a ten-to-one shot.
After that, time blurred. The men pegged her to have a magic touch, and every time she stood on line to place a bet, more people followed her back to the table. The latest recruits had some girls in it, but they seemed more interested in Gen’s ability to attract all the single men at the racetrack.
He tried to control his temper and be happy she was finally eating again. Seemed Ed and she had become close foodie buddies, plowing their way through fish tacos, hot dogs, beer, and pretzels.
He’d never been good at speaking with strangers or making friends. Wolfe fought off the urge to grab her and go home, where it was just them and they could settle back into a quiet conversation and general teasing. But he also realized she was distracted, and the moment she left the track she’d remember the shitstorm she’d left behind. He couldn’t stand the idea of the sadness leaking back into her eyes, or the disappearance of her smile, which always squeezed his heart and made him happy. No. He’d just keep an eye on her and try to enjoy her excitement.
Ed whispered something in her ear. Gen tilted her head up, laughing. His arm came around her shoulders and he pulled her in for a fast, hard hug, strangely more intimate than a full mouth-to-mouth kiss. WTF?
Wolfe jumped up. “Time to go!” he declared loudly.
All gazes turned toward him.
Gen blinked. “We’re only on race four. What’s up?”
Everyone kept staring. He hadn’t been this off-kilter in years. “Figured you’d be tired and we’d head home early?”
Ed piped up. “She can’t leave when she’s on a roll! Doesn’t that mess with juju or something?”
“I think that’s baseball, dude,” Steve said. “If you wanna head out, we’ll make sure she gets home safe.”
Wolfe’s voice iced. “Don’t think so. Gen doesn’t leave my sight. Get it?”
Gen gave a sigh. “You’re losing, aren’t you? Are you getting cranky?”
For God’s sake, he suddenly felt like a toddler. “No, I’m not losing. Listen, if you want to stay, that’s fine. Just didn’t want you to lose all your money.”
She gave a blinding grin with perfect white teeth. The woman could do a Trident commercial. “Not gonna happen. I’m rich today!”
The crowd closed back in on her, getting her take on the fourth race, and he went back to his picnic table. Alone. Just the way he liked it. No interruptions or distractions.
Cool.
He lost the next two. Gen won. So did everyone else, since half of the park realized she was on a blessed run and wanted a piece of the action. He left to get a beer, and when he came back, she’d officially lost race six. Sad faces surrounded her, so he went to check if they were packing up for the day. About time. He’d never heard of anyone with such a long winning streak.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Happens to all of us eventually.”