Gambling It All

Chapter Three

Dixie studied Nicky as he emerged from his room several minutes later, clad in workout pants, a weathered looking short sleeve tee, and his running shoes. She could see the strain of the injury in his walk, though he was trying desperately to hide it and walk perfectly normally. She could see the unevenness in his gait, and told herself she'd have to adjust her initial plan a bit – he wasn't as far along as Cade had thought he was.

She'd have to jettison the training for today, and just check out the rehab work to be done.

Despite the faint scowl on his face, she mused that he really was quite cute, in an aloof cowboyish sort of way. Blondish brown hair that spiked in all directions, deep greenish gray eyes, a slight goatee of the five o'clock shadow variety and a serious brow, his forehead filled with lines that betrayed his serious nature without him even opening his mouth.

Nicky Gamble was attractive, and yet, a total mystery.

Once she got her hands on him, though, and really assessed his levels, he would be a mystery no more, Dixie mused, tugging her ponytail tighter and straightening her shoulders, ready for battle.

**

Nicky sighed inwardly as he approached Dixie, shooting Cade a cold glance over his shoulder.

A glance that said the two of them were definitely going to be having words later about honesty and trust between rider and crew chief.

Cade merely smiled brightly and gave him a little wave, the cocky twerp.

God, Nicky hated that guy sometimes.

He didn't really, he amended in his mind, focusing on making his walk look perfectly natural. He just... he just irritated Nicky sometimes, with his sunshiny attitude and attaboy spirit.

When they were getting beat, Nicky didn't want attaboy. He wanted to get his ass kicked for letting his entire team, and all his sponsors, down.

And that surfer hair of Cade's also bugged the crap out of him – no self respecting cowboy had hair like that.

He could see Dixie watching his gait and sped up, trying desperately to hide his impediment, though the muscles in his leg and ankle were screaming for him to stop.

"Hrm," she said, mostly to herself as Nicky gestured silently towards the front door with one hand, and the gym with the other in question.

She looked up him and down, as though he were a cow at the county fair, then gestured to the front door.

How could a five foot nothin', buck-five soaking wet, redheaded little girl make him feel like he was about to fail gym class?

They both stepped onto the porch, squinting slightly in the thin sunshine and Nicky stopped, waiting for further instruction from his new drill sergeant.

"Let's..." she cleared her throat and tried again. "Let's just walk for a while," she said. "Take me on your favorite walk."

His favorite walk? What was this, Dr. Phil?

"Uh," he stammered, at a loss. "I guess we could walk towards one of the back paddocks."

"Sure," she said, bouncing down the steps and smiling up at him. "And how about you walk for real, instead of pretending nothing hurts. I saw your chart and read about your surgery, and your muscles must have been seriously hurting a second ago while you were trying to show off that you were a big tough cowboy man with something to prove."

Nicky could feel his cheeks flushing slightly, caught in the lie of his gait. "I..."

"I know," Dixie said, holding up a hand to cut him off. "Believe me, I've worked with a lot of athletes who don't want to look any more hurt than they are. But you are hurt, and I'm here to make it heal, so do what I say, or you'll make it worse. I saw the wreck film, I know what damage it did, so stop trying to man up and cover it. Now, let's just walk. Easy, slowly, and let me analyze what's going on. Do you mind pulling you pants leg up so I can see your leg?"