Hot Coco by Cindy McDonald

while the other lay limp beside him. “Stuff’s broken, don’t know what for sure.”
    “Stay still. The medics are coming.”
    At least, Mike hoped so. Most of the horses were now being cleared from the tunnel, but Charlatan was running around the racetrack. He could hear the fans clapping and laughing. They were unaware of the dire situation in the tunnel below them.

    Ten
    Once again Mike found himself driving the long way home while contemplating life’s twists and turns—and the occasional flip-over.
    Someone once told him that if you wanted to hear God laugh—tell Him your plans. It seemed like God was having one hell of a long belly roller ever since he bumped into Coco Beardmore that morning at Keystone Downs and claimed her horses from Doug O’Conner.
    Maybe God created her as an experiment to see how much of a sense of humor men can pull out of their asses when faced with a gorgeous goddess plagued with disaster. I can picture Him up in Heaven, smacking His knee while hooting and shaking His head.
    Funny, very funny.
    Glancing down at his cell phone resting on the seat, he could see there were several messages from Coco in his voice mail. An aching knot of tension formed between his eyes. Forgive and forget: Forgive myself for letting this go too far, and forget ... who the hell am I kidding? How can I forgive myself for letting this bombshell version of Calamity Jane blur my decisions? How can I forget that Sebastian is in a hospital bed with possibly months of physical therapy ahead?
    Mike had graduated to the superfecta.
    The sun was cresting the hills behind his family’s home when he drove through the stone entrance of Westwood. The heavy dew glittered where it bled from the massive oaks that cradled the house. Mike rolled the pickup to stop, dragged his fingers through his dark hair and laced them together on top of his head. He closed his eyes and listened to the morning DJ on the radio tell a really bad joke.
    The morning light gleamed through the dining room window. Sipping his coffee, Eric wondered if Mike was home from the hospital and how Sebastian was.
    It’s a risk every time a jockey swings a leg over a horse. Anything can happen between the paddock and the finish line. That it happened under Westwood’s watch bothered the shit out of him.
    Kate carried a plate of pancakes from the kitchen and placed it in the middle of the table. They heard the kitchen door slam. Looking like he’d been dragged by a truck, Mike strolled into the dining room. She poured him a cup of coffee, which he took from her with a thin smile.
    “How’s Sebastian?” Eric shot him a look over his coffee cup.
    While he was a grown man of thirty-three, Mike recognized the reprimand in his father’s stare. He took a quick sip of the hot coffee and sighed. “Broken collar bone, three ribs, and a wrenched knee.” He sank into a chair. “I can’t believe how stupid I was.”
    The guilt that blonde wielded on her older brother cut like a knife. Kate became painfully aware that he was looking for something in Coco stripped from him by the red-headed whore he had married. Her heart ached for him. “You weren’t stupid, Mike. You did everything you could to cure that horse.”
    “Obviously, I failed.”
    “Where was Betty Boobs last night?” Kate asked.
    “No show.”
    Eric set his cup on the table, and broached the subject that he’d been dreading, “Mike, don’t tell me you have feelings for her. Do you?”
    “Yeah, like a bee sting on my ass.” He sat back hard against the chair. “No, I think I was infatuated with—”
    “Her boobs?” Shane snorted from the doorway.
    Mike shrugged and cocked his head.

    Kate rolled her eyes. “Nice. It’s always a good idea to take on clients based on their cup size.”
    “Seemed like a good idea to me,” Shane said with a smile. “By the way, Tom Mason called this morning. Seems he’s been in Punta Cana visiting a friend.”
    “Hmmm, I feel another set of