Fourth Line Grinder-- Part 11
Author’s Note: This beautiful header is courtesy of @whatishockey and her brilliant creative mind. We continue with ALL NEW content as EJ and Nell figure out their relationship. Please see the masterlist post to see the 2019 Pacific Classic as an example race
Word Count: 5118
Word Count TOTAL: 65,488
Song: Dark Horse - Aaron Watson
Synopsis: Nell Sayer, often called The Witch for her ability to heal horses that are deemed lost causes, is content with her life. With a job where she makes a good living and her two best friends, Nell is unprepared for the changes a meeting with a once-in-a-lifetime horse and his incorrigible owner brings, knocking her off her feet…literally. If only she were as good at listening to her heart as she is at listening to the animals she loves.
Tag List: @laurenairay, @danglesnipecelly, @hockeylvr59, @whatishockey, @thebookofmags, @princessphilly, @glassdanse, @tippedbykreider, @iangiemae, @kotkaniemi-caufield-mom, @marcoscandellas, @mac-blackwood, @fanficrecsby-e
Part 11
The feeling of kisses being pressed along my naked spine woke me. True to my word I had accompanied Erik to Denver when he signed the papers for the property. I was staying at his modest Denver home for four days before flying back to San Diego.
Grinder came out of the Eddie Read with no issues, in fact he was so fit he was beginning to get rambunctious in a way that had Dick considering what to do with him if he qualified for the Breeder’s Cup in the Pacific Classic. There were two full months between qualifying and actually racing in the Longines Classic.
But that was a problem for another day. Thick fingers slipped between my vaginal lips and I moaned into the mattress. EJ pushed two fingers inside me and down to probe my G spot while his thumb rubbed my clit. I came in record time as he laughed against my shoulder blades, his hand following my gyrating hips as I shook from the orgasm.
Mile high sunshine was starting to filter into the bedroom and I knew from experience it couldn’t be much past 5am.
Erik kneeled between my spread legs and he lifted my boneless body onto all fours by my hips. We both moaned as the head of his cock slid inside me. His pace was languid and lazy as he slid a hand between my breasts and lifted me up pressing my back against his chest.
I raised my arms and clasped them behind his head, pulling him down for a kiss. I liked any kind of sex with Erik, but I loved these relaxed mornings, lazy fucking and morning breath until we had our fill of orgasms and hunger sent us to the kitchen for breakfast. It was messy and wet and I made a mental note to get a generous gift card for his housekeeper.
He continued his lazy thrusts, his hand sliding down my body and across my lower stomach like he could feel his dick inside me. Continuing down, he swirled his middle finger around my clit and snapped his hips into mine. His voice was low in my ear, “I like it when you cum on my fingers, I love it when you cum on my cock.. You gonna cum for me, Peaches?”
I shivered at his breath on my earlobe and proceeded to shatter into a million pieces in his arms. Praise slipping from his lips, “That’s my good girl,” as he fucked me hard through my orgasm, chasing his own.
When I felt his cock twitch inside me, he buried his face into the crook of my neck as he groaned through his release.
The sun had long crested the horizon, bathing our kneeling naked bodies in golden light and I knew he looked like a god dipped in starshine.
He collapsed into a mattress that seriously felt like sleeping on a cloud, he twisted as he fell and I landed on top of him, his soft cock regretfully sliding out of me.
My muscles felt like warmed jello and I was putting more effort than should have been necessary into not drooling all over his smooth chest.
Within a few minutes he was snoring softly again and I watched the sun climb across the sky through the floor to ceiling east facing windows.
When relieving myself became more urgent than laying on top of 240lbs of prime Colorado beef, I tried to slip off of him as quietly as possible and ended up getting tangled in the sheet and falling off the bed in a heap.
Erik sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his hair tousled from sleep and my fingers. The sheet was still tucked around his body and I found myself staring at his well sculpted torso. I blinked when he spoke, “Peaches? What are you doing on the floor?”
I sighed and leaned into his hand as he stroked my hair, “trying not to wake you up,” I replied in defeat.
He glanced at the expensive watch on his wrist, “We need to get a move on anyway. We have an appointment to walk to the farm and sign documents at 9 before it gets too hot.”
With frustrating ease he got out of bed and picked me up off the floor in one motion. As the sheet unwrapped from his body I was left clutching it to my chest staring at his ass as he walked into the palacious bathroom.
His whole house was just like him, annoyingly practical while being exuberant. It was an older home in the established but monied neighborhood of Cherry Creek. It was a traditional style that had been updated from the dated granite and honey oak cabinets. A photo of Erik and his Grandmother from when he first purchased showed the mid nineties decor. It was now clean and masculine with large dark furniture.
I heard the shower start and I felt warmth start in my belly thinking about that thing EJ could do with the showerhead.
Two hours later, my hair was still damp and hanging around my face, I had a venti triple shot latte cradled in my hands and I was feeling less like a blob of hot jello and more like a human being.
Erik of course had a sensible SUV and he drove toward the Rocky Mountains, the houses getting larger and farther apart. Flat city streets turned into two lane highways and rolling hills. Eventually, we turned and wove our way through the foothills until we reached a small valley. The entrance to the farm was marked with giant stone pillars and a beautiful iron gate that was open. The long tree lined driveway bisected two large pastures.
A small band of quarter horse broodmares and their foals snorted at the strange vehicle and trotted around the irrigated grass, their tails held high.
The property was well maintained and dotted with large trees, both natural pines and trees that were planted when the place was developed. The mountains rose steeply to the west.
I rolled down the window and the air just smelled like mountains, “What’s the elevation here?”
“Ummm..” Erik hesitated fingers, drumming on the steering wheel, “just over 6,000 feet I think? I’d have to check.”
It was a good 10 degrees cooler than Denver and I was regretting not bringing a jacket. We passed the breeding barn and I craned my neck trying to see inside. He chuckled and reached for my hand, “Peaches, you’ll get to see inside, I promise.”
The main barn was a massive structure in the Monitor style. There was a beautiful fountain in the front courtyard with a bronze rearing horse sculpture in the middle. There were ten stalls on either side with long forty foot runs coming out the back. The center of the barn had two clusters of 4 double sized stalls,with a tack room, wash stalls, and grooming cross ties.
Erik parked the SUV by the front entrance and I clambered out of the car and made my way inside the huge structure waving my hands in acknowledgment of whatever he was saying and not hearing a damn word. The stalls were huge 14x14 at least, with protruding European stall fronts that allowed even more room. The small Quarter Horses hung their heads over the fronts and I came to the conclusion I couldn’t have designed a better barn. Whoever built this place did so with the intent it was comfortable and functional for the horses.
Beyond the barn was a fully covered arena. It wasn’t the largest, but it was large enough for a full dressage court. It was attached to the barn with a covered walkway and textured rubber bricks for traction.
Erik caught up to me, “The realtor is just a few minutes late. What do you think?”
I leaned into him and sighed with contentment, “It’s perfect.”
When Erik disappeared into the office to sign papers I once again began to wander. I stopped in front of a sweet looking Palomino gelding, “You seem pretty content to live here, huh guy?”
He sighed and cocked a hind hoof to continue his morning nap.
“Can I help you?”
I turned toward the voice and there was a drug store box redhead whose Aquanet style would have made Dolly Parton jealous, “I’m sorry my… partner, just bought the place, he’s signing paperwork in the office.”
Her face changed and her southern accent became a lot more pronounced, “Hi there! I’m Peggy, my husband is Shane, he’s the trainer. Have you gotten a tour yet?”
“Just from the photos on the Internet I’m afraid.”
She scoffed, “Best way to get a tour is on horseback, you ride?”
“Just racehorses every day,” I answered with a smile.
“Think you can handle an old Quarter Horse,” she gestured to the sleeping Palomino behind me.
“I can’t remember the last time I rode something that didn’t want to kill me.”
She gestured to the pink halter by the door, “he’s my daughter’s horse. His name is Earl. Come on, I’ll give you an appropriate tour.”
20 minutes later, Earl was decked out head to toe in everything pink glitter and we were plodding next to Peggy on a fiery chestnut reiner. “How old is your daughter?”
She laughed, “10 and really loves pink in case you couldn’t tell.”
I sucked air through my teeth and nodded, “Yep. Thank goodness Earl doesn’t seem to think it’s an attack on his masculinity.”
“Earl here is the best babysitter I could have ever hoped to get.”
It became clear 5 minutes in that Peggy was a Talker with a capital T. But it wasn’t a hardship to listen to her as we rode the galloping track and she pointed out trail access points into the adjoining state park.
Suddenly, I could picture my life here and the vision was so clear I felt like I had been thrust five years into the future. Riding Grinder along these very trails, the pastures dotted with Thoroughbred mares and their foals. The main barn full of rehabbing horses and racetrack failures training for dressage and jumping or even out on these trails for endurance.
My phone trilled in my pocket with William Tell’s Overture and I dug it out of my pocket, “Hey Handsome.”
“Where did you disappear to?”
“Your tenant for the next few months offered me a tour.” Earl shook a rogue fly from his ear.
EJ gave a sigh, but I could hear his smile, “Are you on a horse?”
“Yes. His name is Earl.”
“You can’t keep Earl.”
“Of course I’m not keeping Earl. I’m not in the business of breaking little girls' hearts,” I scoffed.
Peggy turned her head and giggled into her hand and the chestnut mare she was on shook her mane.
“We’re on our way back.”
His voice was tinny on the other end, “Good. I don’t think Grinder would be happy if I went back to California without you.”
I rolled my eyes, “See you in a few.”
Peggy and I finished our impromptu horseback tour and I gave Earl a thorough grooming while Erik chatted with Peggy and Shane. I fished a tired peppermint out of my pocket when I returned him to his stall and the cellophane was almost impossible to peel off the sticky treat but he waited patiently.
I gave the golden gelding a pat and ruffled his forelock as he munched, his breath smelling like hay and mint. “Thanks for taking care of me today Big Man.”
Joining the small group I lifted Erik’s arm and slid underneath it. His shirt smelled like horse and sunshine with the faint hint of his laundry detergent. I got lost in my imagination looking around the barn thinking about where I was going to put my equipment, which stall would be Grinder’s, which of Erik’s broodmares I wanted to bring in first. Basically, building my business and the ERJ racing breeding operation in my head.
I got a hip in my side and EJ shook my shoulder realizing I wasn’t paying attention, “Did you like it?”
“Of course, it’s a beautiful property,” I replied nodding.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I took the case off and retrieved a sad and wrinkled business card that was pressed between the phone and the case, handing it to Peggy. “If your daughter ever becomes more interested in boys than horses, you give me a call and you can name your price for Earl.”
The redhead laughed as her husband growled, “She’s not dating until she’s 40.”
Erik just sighed, “I knew it.”
I gave him an elbow in the ribs, “Grinder will need a retirement buddy.”
We all shook hands and EJ pulled me toward the SUV, “I’m taking her home before she tries to buy all your horses.”
Peggy offered a wave as we got into the vehicle, “Y’all can come help Earl stretch his legs anytime!”
As we made our way down the beautiful driveway, I pulled one of EJ’s hands off the wheel and wove my fingers through his, giving a contented sigh.
He pressed his lips against my knuckles, “Are you going to buy every horse you fall in love with?”
I grinned and pulled my eyes from the stunning view flying by the window, “We can afford it.”
A small smile curled the corner of his lips and I enjoyed the Colorado Summer air as we headed back into town.
—————
Things started to fall into place as I stopped fighting with Erik, with myself, with the universe. I had decided to just let life take me where it wanted and if it all fell apart? Well I was certainly more wealthy than I had been, I had invested a lot of the money back into equipment to help me help more horses, I had Jesus and it would suck for awhile, but I would build everything back up again.
Grinder continued to train like a machine and we enjoyed our afternoons in the California sunshine.
I was sitting on him bareback as he grazed, just wearing a halter, the lead rope over his withers and dangling loose down his shoulder. My eyes were closed and I was meditating, breathing in and out to the count of his ripping and chewing of the grass.
To the shock of absolutely no one except myself, I found taking some time during my day to focus and center myself just for the sake of myself actually improved my work. Any lingering headaches soon completely disappeared.
EJ was fully on board with this new “Nell Takes Care of Herself” movement and regardless of time he was always pressing some sort of smoothie in my hand before I left the house in the mornings. I never asked what was in them because they were always palatable if not actually delicious and I didn’t want the illusion ruined knowing I was drinking raw blended chicken gizzards or something weird.
August on the Southern California Coast was absolutely gorgeous, foggy mornings gave way to mid afternoon sunshine and temps in the 80s. Erik was ramping up his training and come the end of the month, I knew he would be spending more of his time in Colorado than California.
My meditation fell apart as I began to worry about what was to come. We hadn’t talked about when I would be joining EJ in Colorado. Peggy and Shane had the property rented through December. But we had discussed bringing some of our horses earlier as they were only using a fraction of the stalls. They were looking for places close by and Peggy and I had a plan to keep their show stock on so they could utilize the covered arena in the winter. I was getting daily photos of Earl from her daughter Daisy and they almost always featured some sort of costume or hat. He really was the best babysitter.
Grinder snorted and shook his head bringing me back to the present. It was still midsummer and we had time. I pulled the big gelding’s head up from the grass and pointed him back to the barns, enjoying the feel of his large swinging walk.
My phone vibrated on my belt and seeing EJ’s dumb toothless face on my screen I swiped to answer it, “Hey, Grinder and I are just heading back to the barn.”
He cleared his throat, “Would you consider yourself a perfectionist?”
I felt my face scrunch, “Not really, but that’s a weird question.”
He hummed, “Ok what about a planner, would you consider yourself one of those?”
One of Grinder’s elegant black ears flicked back, listening to the conversation, “No more than anyone else? Erik, what’s up with the questions?”
I heard paper rustling in the background, “oh nothing I just found large, to scale drawings of all the barns with the names of horses in each stall, locations of your equipment, you even have a list of where each saddle is going to go in the tack room.”
My throat suddenly felt a little scratchy and I coughed, my voice a little high when I replied, “Um that is normal.”
“It’s not but ok, we can start making a plan after dinner, a lot of these mares I don’t want to haul out until after their breedings next season and we confirm they are in foal. Some I’d like to unload at auction.”
I sighed at having been caught, “Ok. I’ll be home in about an hour, do you want me to pick up dinner?”
Dishes clanked in the background, “Nah, Peaches, it’s lean protein and vegetables tonight.”
Wrinkling my nose, I made a mental note to pick up some Ben and Jerry’s on the way. I didn’t have to worry about being a professional athlete.
I felt better when I followed EJ’s diet with him, but at what cost?
When I got back to the Del Mar condo, pint of ice cream in my hand, he was in the kitchen cooking away, dish towel swung over his shoulder looking like he was the main course.
I tossed the dessert in the freezer and snagged the big man around the waist for a kiss. He gave me a pouty look, “I suppose you didn’t bring a pint for me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said feigning innocence.
He just raised a brow, and we settled into our little slice of domesticity. I sat at the island going through emails, texts, and pouring over my schedule while he cooked.
After dinner, he spread the plans on the kitchen island, “Shane and I have been talking, and I think they are going to move into that small house by the broodmare barn for the foreseeable future. We are going to have way more available stalls than we know what to do with for awhile and I don’t think having them on the property is a bad idea for a little extra income.”
I started erasing all the names I had written into the stalls, “I agree.”
EJ put an arm around my shoulders, his voice soft, “When do you want to move in?”
Frowning, I shifted in my chair. I had been expecting this conversation to happen at some point. “I don’t know. I mean there’s so much to do to get all the horses you want to winter out there ready. We have to buy blankets, order feed, bedding, we have to have guys on the ground ready for horses, we have to have guys here ready to pack up horses. There’s so much Erik.”
He kissed my temple, “It’s only August, Peaches, we have time.”
“I suppose you’re right,” I said, leaning into his kiss.
A large hand pulled the elastic out of my hair, “I am happy that you’re thinking about it though.” His voice dropped and the air became charged.
I offered a hum in response as his blunt fingers began to massage my scalp.
——
As August ticked by and we settled even more into a routine, even with EJ starting to spend more and more time in Colorado, to the point, I didn’t know what was going to happen when the season started. It would be questionable if he would even be available the day of the Breeder’s Cup, but first Grinder had to qualify.
The days marched toward Grinder’s first grade 1 stakes in his entire life and when race day arrived I was an odd mixture of nervous and confident.
Grinder’s story had spread among the race community and there was a feature article in that week’s Racing Forum about our weird little family. The horse no one wanted to take a chance on, the miracle worker, and the hockey player that was entranced by my witchy wiles.
Like all days on the California coast, this one dawned bright and perfect. After an early morning hack around the track property to stretch his muscles, I was banned from seeing Grinder before the race.
I sat in my truck in the parking lot, unsure of what to do with myself. I hadn’t booked any clients for the day, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus on them, and I was right. Erik had a handful of interviews to give and he left it up to me whether I was going to be tucked into his side like the dutiful girlfriend or throwing up in a trash can from nerves around the corner.
EJ climbed into the passenger seat without a word and handed me a large paper cup with a lid. I took the warm beverage gratefully and took a sip. I was expecting espresso mixed with milk and yummy syrup and I got something else entirely. He chuckled when I made a face.
“It’s herbal tea, Peaches. You don’t need anymore caffeine to tie your stomach in knots.”
I took another sip with a generous shrug because he was probably right.
Next, a breakfast burrito and a race program with a $100 bill tucked into it slid onto the center console of the truck.
My brow arched and I got a wiley grin in return.
“You had a smoothie at 5am. Eat the burrito and then we are going to play a little game.”
“I’m listening,” I replied before taking a bite of the egg-y, cheesy, potato-y goodness wrapped in a tortilla.
His grin got impressively wider, “There’s a handful of claiming races on tomorrow’s card, what you win handicapping with this $100 bill today, you will use to buy the horse of your choice tomorrow.”
I inhaled a piece of potato and started choking, “What?”
Erik gave me a slap on the back and I felt the piece of potato dislodge from my throat, “You need to be distracted and this will be a challenge, even for you.” He settled into the leather seat and reclined it, “better get crackin’ on that program, the cheapest claimer tomorrow is $7500 and the first post is in an hour.”
Staring at the $100 bill tucked into the program, I chewed thoughtfully. Turning $100 into enough to buy a horse with? How did he even get this idea?
Keeping the bill safely between the pages of the racing program I picked it up and thumbed to the first race.
An hour and a half later, Grinder was only occupying the furthest recesses of my mind as the horses of the first race flashed under the wire, in the exact order I picked them for the straight trifecta. I had just quadrupled my money.
EJ twisted his program in his hands and squinted at me from beneath the brim of his fashionable hat, “Should I call Gabe and just tell him I’m retiring now?”
I smacked him in the chest and disappeared to collect my winnings.
By the time The Pacific Classic was called to the post, I was up several thousand and I had put the whole kit and kaboodle on Grinder whose odds were reasonable at 10 to 1.
I had tucked the betting slip into my bra for safe keeping and idly wondered if it was still worth anything soaked in boob sweat. A large hand spanned the small of my back and I could feel the heat of the palm through the dress I had changed into. It was a simple jersey wrap around in a bright royal blue that matched the ERJ Racing silks. I had paired it with a suede heeled bootie and some hammered silver earrings and pendant. It was simple, it was elegant, and as always, it was machine washable.
EJ kissed my temple and my phone vibrated, it was a facetime from Carlos. I hadn’t apologized for my behavior and at this point I didn’t really know how. He wasn't speaking to me, but when I answered the facetime call, there was Grinder in all his glory, being saddled. Carlos kept the phone on him as they walked around the paddock and the call disconnected as the horses departed to the tunnel and made their way to the track.
“I see you’re still being stubborn and Carlos is still not talking to you.”
Grabbing his arm, I wrapped it around my middle, “ I don’t even know how to bring it up or what to say.”
I could hear the amusement in his voice, “Well I think you start with ‘I’m’ and end with ‘sorry’”
Heaving a sigh, I wondered if anyone would blame me for crushing his toes under the heel of my fashionable bootie this close to hockey season. “Thanks for the advice, smart ass.”
The horses started filing onto the track, nine gleaming thoroughbreds in various shades of red, brown, and grey. Then there was Grinder, marching across the dirt to the turf, his coat so shiny it almost looked like an oil slick. There were no bad vibes this time. These were good horses, real competition and somehow the big black gelding made them all look like scrawny mustangs gathered from the Nevada desert.
Large hands closed over mine and Erik pried my phone from my death grip before sliding it into his pocket, “Please try not to destroy anything with your hulk hands.”
Frowning, I looked at my hands, “They’re not hulk hands.”
“Peaches last time he raced and you held my hand I heard bones crack.”
There were 11 horses in the race, including Grinder. It was a decent field and I started to worry it was going to be too much. Too many horses, too much traffic, and if he did win, what about the Breeder’s cup where the field could be even larger?
The horses completed the post parade and started to warm up. I watched the horses, looking for weaknesses, lameness, anything that might give me peace of mind that my horse was the best. There was nothing. These were some of the best horses in the country and Grinder was amongst them.
Time stretched like a lazy cat and the warm up seemed to take forever, but all too soon the horses approached the gate and started to be loaded. Grinder had pulled the first post position and because of his running style, no one was a fan. Everyone wanted to be on the rail, to run the shortest race. That didn’t matter for Grinder, he was fit, he was a closer, but he could get caught in the mad rush. He could get bumped, or worse, stuck in traffic. I didn’t know what the ornery gelding would do if he was forced to run in the middle of the pack, Mikey and I had discussed it and we had both decided it was best to never find out.
Grinder was one of the first horses loaded, and I pressed the binoculars to my eyes watching his feet. They were flat on the ground and he stood like a statue while the rest of the horses were slotted into their spots. What was less than a minute stretched for eternity and finally the bell clanged and the gates opened. Grinder shot forth and I had to pull the lenses away from my eyes to blink before replacing them.
The big black horse was surging with the pack. He was on the rail and stretching to keep his nose in front of the competition. He broke fast and he was…. Leading?
“What the fuck?” Erik’s words spoke to both of us. I could tell from the body language both Mikey and the horse were surprised as well.
I let the small binoculars fall, resting in my hand against the wall of the owner’s box, “I mean, we wanted to keep him out of traffic. This is fine. As long as Mikey stays out of his way, this is fine.”
And shockingly it was. Mikey helped rate Grinder and the fractions were fast, but not otherworldly. The frontrunners in this race were decent but Grinder was faster and he held them off with ease.
Into the far turn, the field started to challenge him and every time a horse pulled alongside him, Grinder found another gear. The crowd roared as the big black horse headed for the finish, leading the field wire to wire.
I didn’t remember when I started screaming but I was still screaming when the rest of the field passed under the wire and Erik was spinning me around.
Time seemed stuck in fast forward as the ERJ Racing team took photos in the winner’s circle. There were interviews galore and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. The whirlwind didn’t cease until the sun had long gone to bed and I was leaning on Grinder’s stall door with my elbows, watching the horse munch his evening hay.
A warm hand found the small of my back and Erik shouldered his way next to me, “he was spectacular.”
My cheeks hurt but I still couldn’t stop the smile, “yeah he is.”
“He’s spectacular because of you.” He nudged my shoulder with his.
“No, he was always spectacular. Just no one else saw it. No one else believed.”
EJ pulled me into his body and kissed my temple, “Come on Peaches, we got a big day of horse buying tomorrow and then I have to be in Colorado by Monday morning.”
And there it was, the kicker to my absolutely perfect day. September was starting and just as I felt I had gotten my footing in my new life, it was going to be changing again.