A Barlow Lens (13 page)

It was a lovely, sunny day, and it seemed impossible for any person in the park to be in a sour mood. The various races and tracks all followed the same basic routine with variations on their traditions for each race. Wyatt had been given a crash course from Val and Janelle, who seemed to be a treasure trove of trivia about race day customs.

A constant was the announcement of the horses leaving their stalls and the call of “jockeys up” preceding the parading of the horses to the starting gate. Wyatt enjoyed the event; it seemed to be a ceremony all to itself for each race. His favorite part was surely the thunderous applause and cheers for his daughter and her mount when Dreamspinner stepped foot on the track.

“He's horse number three,” Val said and pointed to the fence enclosing the track. “That isn't going to help, starting so close to the rail, he likes the outside. Janelle's going to have to be careful he doesn't get boxed in by other horses there.”

“'Cause if your horse can't win, the next best thing is keeping the other guys from winning,” Wyatt recited what Val had told him the year before.

Val grinned. “You got that right.”

There were the tense moments while the horses were loaded into the starting gate stalls. Wyatt was pleased to see that Izzo had adjusted to all this hoopla and for once stood calm and quiet, waiting to run. He saw Janelle pat the horse's neck a few times. Izzo twitched an ear when there was an odd noise, but gone was his starting gate theatrics of previous months that consisted of head tossing, foot stomping, and kicking. No doubt Janelle was very happy as well.

Finally all the horses stood in a line, and there were a few seconds of dead silence in the park. Wyatt held his breath. The bell rang, excitement exploded all around them, and then he could breathe again.

“Christ, they're all in a pack,” Val said. He had Wyatt's hand in a death grip. “Janelle's got to get him clear, or he'll be boxed in and not able to get into the front.”

The announcer repeated Val's words a second later, making Wyatt smile. He wouldn't relax until Janelle was on the other side of the finish line. Five horses ran in a bunch; it was hard to see which one was in what position, and Wyatt was impressed by the announcer who constantly updated the names of the horses and their position.

“Going down the backstretch, it's Fancy Flight in the lead, coming up on the outside is Ramble On. Derby and Preakness winner Dreamspinner and Manic Monday are battling it out for third….” the announcer said. Wyatt didn't pay attention to the names of the rest of the horses farther behind.

“She's holding that position on purpose,” Val whispered.

“Why?” Wyatt asked.

Val grinned and pointed up to the speakers when the announcer said, “This is a long race and strategy is the key.”

“Skufca has certainly proved she is not only a superior rider but thinks her way through a race,” the second announcer said. “Make your move too soon and you run the risk of a horse tiring. Fancy Flight hasn't raced in a month. Dreamspinner has had less downtime. The same with Ramble On and Manic Monday.”

“Janelle isn't going to be able to get him into the lead without going around them on the outside,” Val said.

“I thought he likes to run there?”

“He does, but it might be a bit too far. She's probably banking on the fact that Fancy Flight's jockey keeps using his crop. That filly needs pushing,” Val explained. The four horses were still running together in a tight group.

The announcer agreed. “Fancy Flight looks like she's lagging, though she's still in the lead, but only by a head. It looks like Manic Monday stumbled; he's recovered but has dropped back. Skufca sees that opening and is going for it. Speed and strategy is what horseracing is all about, folks!”

All of a sudden everything was different. The horses that were bunched together in a group spread out into a line. Wyatt held his breath, and Val jumped up and down, fist pumping the air and shouting at Izzo to “
Run faster
.”

Wyatt swore the louder the crowd became the better Izzo liked it and the sound only served to urge him on. The horses were a joy to watch. Wyatt had often heard them referred to as poetry in motion, and he understood why. Izzo's dark gray body glistened in the late afternoon sun, and his long, pale gray tail fluttered in his wake—his own personal flag.

“Into the home stretch, it's Ramble On and Dreamspinner. These two colts have been battling it out since the Derby qualifiers, and they are giving us a show! Look at the two of them go. This just became a two horse race. They are easily four lengths in front of the rest and going strong.” The excitement in the announcer's voice was unmistakable. Everyone wanted to be involved in a Triple Crown winning race.

Wyatt felt his breath catch, and shivers ran freely up and down his spine when the announcer continued. “Ramble On is dropping back to second place. Dreamspinner is just picking up speed, proving he loves to go the distance. Two lengths… four…. Dreamspinner crosses the finish line to win the Belmont Stakes and the Triple Crown, ahead by seven lengths, and the drought is broken. The Kentucky Derby, the Preakness Stakes and today the Belmont Stakes! No horse has won all three since Affirmed in 1978! What a race! What an
amazing
race!”

 

Hempstead, New York—Present Day

 

V
AL
GROANED
. It was deep and not too loud. Wyatt knew this particular noise from Val meant one thing. He was needy, desperate, and more than primed for the taking. Spread on his stomach, Val's long legs opened wider, his hips shifted side to side, he pushed his ass up, and his fingers clenched the bed sheets. Another groan, this time accompanied by a shudder rippling through him, nearly sent Wyatt over the edge.

He braced one palm against Val's rear, keeping him in place. Wyatt nudged Val's legs apart farther and pressed his nicely lubed dick to Val's well-oiled entrance. The fingers of Wyatt's other hand curled around the back of Val's neck, pinning him and keeping him still. Rolling his hips in a slow, easy motion, Wyatt pushed into Val and was rewarded with another of the deep, lusty moans.

Moving so he could reach around Val and use thumb and forefinger to circle the base of his cock, Wyatt squeezed and released in time with each of his thrusts. He knew Val's hips squirming and jerking were a frantic attempt for greater friction and to push Wyatt in deeper.

He leaned more heavily against Val and lightly ran his tongue over Val's ear, whispering, “I caught you, and I'm making you wait for it.”

Another shudder and groan from Val rewarded Wyatt for his efforts. While Wyatt ramped up the pace, he held Val still. Losing his rhythm when powerful quakes ran through Wyatt and sparks coursed his spine, his orgasm pulsed through him. Val's body responded by jerking and clenching in waves. Wyatt gave his cock a few pumps, swiping his thumb through Val's slit and over the head, making him drag in a breath and shudder when his cock throbbed in Wyatt's grip.

Easing out and rolling partially off Val, Wyatt ran one hand through his hair, nuzzled his neck, and said softly, “Love you.”

“Hmm… that's a great way to start the day,” Val murmured. He twisted in Wyatt's arms and smiled. “Love you, too.”

They couldn't spend too much time lounging around that morning. In a few hours, they'd be officially married. “We should probably get ready,” Wyatt said and pushed off the bed.

After Wyatt had showered and dressed, he stood tying his tie. “I guess I'll never have another tie other than this one again.”

Val laughed softly. “First your kid wins every horse race you wear it to, and now you're marrying a spectacular man. It's lucky for you.”

“I believe you are correct.”

They had decided on a simple civil ceremony that would take place at the bed-and-breakfast they, along with Rod's family, Janelle, and Val's family, were staying in. They'd arrived in New York a few days before the Belmont Stakes and completed all the necessary paperwork.

Wyatt was delighted to see Lily had made the trip, since he really had very few friends in the country. Most of their guests were people from the world of horseracing, and Wyatt halfway expected to see a few horses in attendance as well as their human guests.

Val's family made quite the elegant picture, all of them wearing dress uniforms from their various branches of the military. All the people Wyatt had come to know and saw daily dressed in jeans, jodhpurs, muddy boots, and ratty T-shirts were almost unrecognizable in suits and summer dresses. Janelle was lovely in a shimmering gray, full-length dress. It didn't get past Wyatt that she and Vin were constantly together, and he had to admit they looked good next to each other. Classic black suits with tails, dark gray vests, and lighter gray shirts for Wyatt and Val completed the picture.

The ring Wyatt had given to Val five weeks ago as the Kentucky Derby began, a simple silver band of horseshoes, was perfectly complemented by Wyatt's black and gray titanium one with a woven pattern inlay.

When he'd picked it out, Val had nudged his side and whispered, “I'm detecting a theme.”

Val's ring was engraved with the words “caught you,” and Wyatt's sported the phrase “let you.”

For all of Val's worrying, when it came time for that all-important kiss, he melted against Wyatt and beamed when there was a round of applause.

Wyatt nearly choked when Val leaned in and whispered in his ear, “I'm starving. I hope there's a shrimp buffet.”

After a grand evening of wonderful food, dancing, and whiskey, Wyatt took Val's hand and they said good night to their guests. He ushered Val upstairs to their room. Val laughed as he untied Wyatt's tie and pulled him backward to the bed.

They wasted no time getting the suits off between caressing, kissing, and tasting. Val moaned, took Wyatt's hands, and pulled Wyatt down on top of him, wrapping his long, lean legs around Wyatt's pelvis. They pressed close together, holding onto one another, and celebrated starting their life together.

 

 

Jewel Cave

 

Book Three of the Circles Series

Every Life Is a Circle

 

By Elizabeth Noble

 

 

Through ten wonderful years Griff Diamond and Clint Bishop weathered good times and bad together. Lately they haven't spent as much time together as they'd like, and their physical relationship is suffering. Then Clint loses his job at the steel mill. Instead of worrying, he sees it as an opportunity to lean on his steady partner, start his writing career, and rekindle the passion they've lost.

But a friendly relationship with another author turns to obsession, putting Clint's life in danger. Taken against his will to the Jewel Cave system in South Dakota, Clint must rely on the skills he's learned from Griff to survive.

Fearing the worst, Griff tracks Clint across the country. As a US Marshal, Griff's always been the man who keeps everyone safe, but he doesn't know how he and Clint will survive this.

 

Coming Soon to

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Chapter 1

 

“I
T
WAS
a dark and stormy night.” Clint stared at the screen in front of him, then rolled the chair back from his desk, gripped the edge and banged his forehead on the hard wooden surface.

Twice.

Straightening, he read the words on the monitor again. “What the—” Clint spread his arms wide. “Is he kidding? He's
got
to be kidding.”

He swung the chair around and looked at the two dogs sprawled in the floor behind him. “Seriously? Is he just
nuts
?”

The dogs were apparently unimpressed, though Phoenix, a large white mutt, thumped his tail and rolled onto his back, heaving a sigh and twisting side to side a few times.

“I'll take that as firm agreement. And he wonders why the hell he doesn't sell anything.” An e-mail popped up and Clint groaned softly. “Don't look. Don't look. Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I have to look.” He opened the e-mail and scanned it, reading parts to the dogs. “Sent the newest project in a separate e-mail, see what you think. Want to get together next weekend? Do something fun, you know we'll be good together.” Clint shook his head. He'd answer later. “He lives in Minneapolis, not like we're just a short drive apart.”

That was a request Dylan had made a few times in the last few weeks. The invitation and how it was phrased struck Clint as odd, but then again, he reasoned Dylan was what most people would consider a very unique individual. Some days it was more of an effort not to read between the lines with these sorts of things. Clint reasoned it was a hazard of being a writer of suspense. Everything turned into conspiracy.

Phoenix yawned, brushed his tail from side to side a few times, and went back to sleep. Clint let his hands drop so his palms rested against his knees for a few seconds before he stood up. The other dog, Fern, moved from the floor in Clint's office to the couch in the living room.

“Traitor,” Clint grumbled. He stood for a few minutes in the wide double doorway between the rooms, grabbed the doorframe, and stretched. “He wants me to beta read this crap and
love
it, then commiserate when no one buys it. And what is with the ‘let's get together' thing all of a sudden? It's not like I'm single, and he knows that. If he's hinting at writing a book together, he's really crazy. My name isn't going on that crap.”