by Lori Ryan
Presley sat on the rock, wondering if that was the end of it. No hello. No goodbye. It had been the strangest encounter she’d ever, well, encountered.
She stood, looking over to where Tess stood lazily munching on grass. Presley blew out a breath of air, ready to attempt the hobble back to the animal barn. She took a limping step toward the pasture and flinched.
“Boy, you can’t sit still, can you?”
She spun at the words, then toppled sideways and began that pinwheeling thing with her arms that people think can only happen in a cartoon. Until it happens. With a witness.
Then there were strong hands on her waist again. A little pressure from those hands and she was sinking back down onto the rock again. He produced a first aid kit and pulled a bandage from it, putting it on her temple as she sat stone still.
His face was right next to hers as he doctored her, and Lord, but the man smelled good. Insanely good.
Then his hands were moving down her leg, and she sucked in a breath, making him still.
“Did I hurt you?” He asked, looking at her now.
She shook her head, probably a little too quickly, too emphatically.
He watched her face for a minute then turned his attention back to his ministrations, pulling her boot from her foot. The fleeting hope that her feet didn’t smell flitted through her brain, a brain that was apparently becoming addled in his presence.
“I’m Presley,” she said.
He continued to pull her sock down off her foot and examine the swelling in her ankle. It seemed to be blowing up at an alarming rate now that the boot had been removed. He pulled an instant ice pack from the first aid kit and cracked it to activate the cold. She’d always liked that moment of cracking the ice for some reason.
“You’re James,” she said, though her head was screaming she was an idiot for telling him who he was. His lips twitched but she didn’t know if he was fighting off a smile or frown.
She winced as he wrapped her foot in an ACE bandage, stopping after a few rotations to place the ice pack against the center of the swelling, then using the bandage to hold it in place.
He stood and held out his hand. Slipping hers into it shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did. His hand was warm, strong, and steady as he pulled her to her feet. She ignored it.
“Okay, well, it was nice to meet you, James.” Clearly, there had been no actual meeting since that would require him introducing himself and going through the kind of introductory comments that typically went along with it. Good to meet you, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, that sort of thing.
Presley suppressed a laugh at the thought that she was the talkative one in the conversation. Not at all something she’d been able to claim in the past.
He put a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place, while he pulled his phone from his pocket and hit a few keys.
“Hey Cade, it’s James. Can you come over to the barn? Presley hurt her ankle. I don’t think it’s broken but she should have an X-ray in case there’s a hairline fracture.”
“That was a lot of words.” She couldn’t help it. It was the first thought that popped into her head.
“Yeah,” he said, scrubbing at the back of his head with one hand and looking a little embarrassed.
Presley felt her cheeks heat. She hadn’t meant to make him feel bad. “I’m sorry.” She bit down on the urge to tell him she didn’t always know the right thing to say, and often felt like she said the exact opposite most of the time. She weighed the chances he might think she was crazy for trying to explain herself against wanting him to realize she hadn’t meant to be a bitch, but before she could make a decision, Cade and Laura came around the side of the barn.
And while a plan was made for Laura to drive Presley to the hospital despite her objections and for Cade to take Tess back to the barn to thoroughly check her out, James Lawless slipped back into the quiet blackness of the barn behind them.
2
Presley got out of the car and waited while Laura slid the crutches she’d rented from the hospital pharmacy out of the back seat.
“Thank you,” Presley murmured as Laura handed her first one, then the other. She turned and looked at the stable where her father would be, then back up at the house where she knew her mother would be waiting.
She didn’t know which one of them she preferred to face first. Since her leg was throbbing, she supposed going up to the house was her best bet. Her mother would likely call her father as soon as she saw the air cast on Presley’s leg anyway, so she might as well be someplace she could sit and elevate her ankle.
“I’ll help you into the house,” Laura said.
Presley nodded. She’d like to say no, but the fact was, it would be a lot easier for her to get up the stairs if Laura was there to hold the crutches.
She could have had Laura take her around to the apartment she lived in at the back of the house, but really, she had to face her parents eventually and getting it over with was probably the best course of action.
They’d made it to the base of the steps leading to the wide stone porch when the door opened and her mother came out.
“Pres, what happened?”
Presley stopped and looked up to find a face that was nearly her mirror in every way, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. They might be sisters were it not for the plastic surgery that had seemed to stretch her mother’s features over time. Still, the woman was beautiful. Just, a little preserved looking.
“I had an accident on Tess.”
Laura probably didn’t notice the tight set in her mother’s jaw as she came forward to help Presley. That, or she chalked it up to being upset at seeing her daughter was hurt.
“Mom, you remember Laura. She took me to the emergency room.”
“It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Royale. I wish it was under better circumstances.”
Katerina Royale offered Laura a tight smile and nod. “Thank you for helping Presley.”
Her mother took the crutches from Laura and offered her hand to Presley in a clear I’ll take it from here gesture meant to dismiss Laura.
“How long will you be off it, Pres? I’ll call Timothy and have him get you on a rehab schedule.”
Of course she would.
Presley clamped down on the urge to tell her mom she didn’t need the physical therapist to come to the house immediately, but that would be foolish. If they were going to get her back on the circuit with as few shows missed as possible, they needed to start therapy right away.
She turned to Laura. “Thank you so much, Laura. I’ll call you guys in a few days.”
Laura leaned in to hug Presley. “Cade will ride Tess for you. You just take care and get some rest.”
“Thank you.” Presley had said it already, but she said it again. Cade rode Tess for Presley when she was out on the circuit, but she always made sure she got over there between shows. She wouldn’t be able to ride Tess at all for the time being.
Laura knew Presley didn’t live the life of a normal thirty-year-old woman. None of her life had been normal.
Presley Royale had been put on a horse’s back before she could walk. The first time she went over a jump, she flew over it without any hesitation. Or so she was told. She didn’t remember the event, but her father liked to tell people it never entered her mind that the horse might refuse the jump and send her flying over it instead.
Now, at thirty, she lived in the in-law suite of her parents’ home. She traveled more days of the year than she was home, and her world was ruled by the demands of her career in Grand Prix show jumping.
What she ate, who she was friends with, her schedule, all of it.
It was only in the last few years that she’d started to want something different in her world, but how could she give up and walk away?
Her mother helped her into the house, calling out to the housekeeper to help as they entered.
“We’ll get you settled in the living room.” Mrs. Royale had already let g
o of Presley and picked up her phone, leaving Presley to lean on her crutches again.
Presley didn’t have to ask who she was texting. Really, it was only an issue of who would be first. Her physical therapist or her dad. Either way, both would arrive quickly. One would demand answers.
“Honestly, Presley, I don’t know why you can’t see that keeping that horse at that barn is a bad idea.”
Her mother’s words were the polite version of what her father would say when he came. Rather than sell Tess when it had been time to retire her, Presley had insisted on buying her from Royale Stables so she could keep her.
Tess was the only horse in the constantly rotating string of horses Presley rode in the circuit that she had always felt was truly hers. Tess was the only horse Presley had found on her own, without any help from her dad. When Presley was sixteen, she’d chosen Tess when the horse was only six years old, long before she would be ready for the Grand Prix level. She’d trained her, brought her up to being one of the best in the country.
When Tess had been ready to step down from the Grand Prix level, Presley had bought her, but her father refused to let her keep Tess at Royale Stables. If she wasn’t making him money, she wasn’t earning her keep. Never mind that Presley offered to pay the horse’s feed and board. That wasn’t the way it worked, he’d told her.
He hadn’t needed to tell her. Presley knew that wasn’t the way her father worked. If he hadn’t sanctioned something, it wasn’t going to happen on his land.
She wouldn’t dream of pointing out that the land, stables, and house belonged to her mother.
She also didn’t bother to mention that her father wouldn’t let her keep Tess on their property. Her mother knew and certainly hadn’t insisted her father let her, even though the land was all technically her mother’s.
“The accident had nothing to do with where Tess is boarded, mom. It was a snake. Tess spooked then stumbled.” She shrugged. Her mother knew enough about horses to fill in the rest.
Her mother had once been her father’s student, back when he was starting out as a young trainer. Horse trainers rarely owned their own property or the kind of horses her dad now owned. They were hired to train riders who wanted to show on either their own horses or horses they’d leased.
But her father had fallen for her mother, a rider who’d competed at almost the level Presley was at now. When they married, Katerina Dudikoff’s family fortune was more than enough to buy him any land he chose and any horses he set his sights on. Katerina had helped him build his training career, with herself at the center of it as his prized student. When he’d built his reputation and could hand pick who he worked with, she’d retired from the circuit, preferring the parties and events from the viewer’s side of things instead of the saddle side.
Once Presley had shown skill for the sport, her mother had discovered being the wife of a famous trainer and the mother of a famous rider suited her needs even better.
Her mother wasn’t prepared to let the issue drop. “It had everything to do with that horse and that stable.” She let out a delicate sniff. “Not that it could really be called a stable.”
“It’s a stable, mother,” Presley said, as the housekeeper propped pillows under her leg and behind her back on the couch.
“If it was a proper stable, they wouldn’t have snakes.”
Presley didn’t argue. There was little point in letting her mother know that their own stables occasionally had snakes. It was impossible not to. Sure, you could sprinkle products meant to keep them away, but one or two would turn up now and then, regardless.
Her father’s voice came from the doorway, and it wasn’t cheerful. “How long?”
She knew what he meant. How long would she be out? How many shows would she miss? Would it be enough to affect her standing?
“Four weeks,” Presley said, knowing he’d rail no matter the answer. It could easily have been six or eight, if the sprain had been worse.
“We’ll see what Timothy has to say,” her mother said.
“The doctor said four,” Presley said. She wasn’t going to let them force her back before she was ready. There was a time when Presley cared as much about her career as her parents did. She’d have been pushing to shave time off as much as they would, but those days were over.
She’d started to think she didn’t want to do this forever. She just hadn’t found a way to tell her parents she wanted to retire.
Her father stood stone-faced in the door until the housekeeper slipped from the room. His anger was never the loud kind. He had a way of icing himself over that was scary to a kid and intimidating as hell to most adults. Presley still hated it, even though she’d been an adult for years.
“This was foolish, Presley. You’re putting everything we’ve worked for at risk every time you go over there and ride that nag.”
Presley wanted to laugh. It was ridiculous to call Tess a nag. She might not be able to compete at the Grand Prix level any longer, but if Presley hadn’t wanted to keep her, they could have easily sold her to someone wanting to compete at lower levels or in a different discipline. Never mind the fact that he’d charged Presley twenty-five-thousand dollars to buy Tess when she retired.
She didn’t laugh. She simply waited him out as he lectured her on what her carelessness might mean to her career. She wondered what he would do. Her parents weren’t ever abusive, but her father did have a mean streak and he could be passive-aggressive when he wanted to.
Growing up, she’d seen that early on. Anyone in the riding world knew horses weren’t pets. You didn’t get to retire your horses to live out their lives on a pasture on your land, even when you had as much land as they had. Each year, they assessed the string of three to five horses she was competing with and made decisions about which to keep or sell.
Of course, her father seemed to put a little something into the analysis at times. Her first pony had been sold after a particularly bad showing. He’d said it was time for her to start riding a larger pony, but she’d known, even then, that he used the timing to make a statement to her. To teach her what could happen if she didn’t meet his expectations.
Other times, he’d take on a new student. One time, when Presley had told him she was afraid to try a jump he wanted her to take, he’d only waited a week before signing on with a girl who had teased Presley mercilessly at previous shows. The girl had been the first one to dub Presley “the Royale Princess,” and the name hadn’t been used in a complimentary sense.
He never had to tell her why he was doing what he did. She was always able to look back and know just where she’d messed up.
Of course, as she got older, it was harder for him to hurt her in those ways. She’d gotten to the point where she didn’t care as much who he took on to train, and she’d made sure she didn’t get attached to any of the horses. With the exception of Tess, that is.
Actually, it was a miracle he’d never sold her over the years. Maybe her mother had stopped him. Who knew? It was never very clear to Presley how much control her mother exerted, but Presley had a feeling her mother still manipulated the purse strings. Katerina wasn’t one to give up control.
It was no matter. Presley owned Tess outright now and her father couldn’t do anything to Presley that she wouldn’t be able to get over. No matter how much she still craved his approval, she had learned to harden herself to his particular brand of retribution.
She tuned back in to hear her father telling her to withdraw her entries for the next three weeks before he stalked out of the room.
She would withdraw for four and then see how her ankle was.
Presley lay her head back and closed her eyes. She’d been planning her retirement for some time now, but hadn’t quite known how to actually go through with it. She knew what she wanted to do afterward. She had a business chosen, her plan drafted. She had a life planned for after her exit from the circuit, one that didn’t involve going into the training business the way she was sure a lot of people
thought she might. Maybe it was time for her to live that dream. Her dream.
She heard a rustle and opened her eyes to see her mother settling herself on the ottoman near the couch.
Her mom took her hand and pressed her lips together a moment before speaking. “He loves you, you know? We both do.”
“I know, Mom. I do.” As hard as her father could be, she’d felt his pride when she did well. Even earning an “atta girl” or “well done,” was high praise, for most of his riders, but he’d given her those often. He would squeeze her leg as he walked beside her horse and when she looked down and grinned at him, he’d wink up at her.
With her dad, it was little things like that. Little things he never offered his other students.
Her mother took one of her hands and pressed it between both of her own, rubbing as if she needed to warm her. “I’ll take care of the withdrawals for you. You need to rest. Do you want me to get you some tea or a little lunch?”
And just like that, Presley began to question her resolve. How could she walk away from all her parents had done for her? They’d given her everything every little girl ever wanted. Horses, ponies, and a life anyone would kill to have.
3
James told himself he was just taking a break. Splitting logs the size of the ones he was working with was labor intensive. It wasn’t why he’d stopped, though. He’d stopped because Presley had just limped up to where Tess stood at a pasture fence. He’d heard through Laura that the ankle had just been sprained but even that would mean a month or more out of the saddle. He hoped she wasn’t planning to ride.
He heard the soft crunch of someone approaching him from behind. He had to slow his turn in a conscious effort to defeat the demons that urged him to spin and watch his back. He was on Bishop Ranch. He wasn’t in a deep dark hole where someone might come and beat him as he slept for no other reason than the sheer entertainment of seeing if they could break the American. If they could break the Illusion, as he’d been called at times.
