by Marinelli, Carol; Hayward, Jennifer; Stephens, Susan; Anderson, Natalie
When the day came for him to make a match to deliver the Salazar heir, it would be at least a few years down the road with a woman he’d handpicked as a sensible selection. He would research her just as he would an expensive car, making sure she ticked all the right boxes for the rational, practical match he had planned. Because he knew from personal history, impulse purchases, matches made out of passion never lasted. His parents were a perfect example of that.
He reached the stables five minutes after his break officially ended. Putting his mind blowing conversation with Stavros out of his head, he went directly to the tack room to collect the gear he needed to exercise one of the three horses he had to take out that afternoon.
Checking the gear over, he let the easy rhythm of the stables slide over him. The clip clop of hooves on concrete, the whinny of horses talking to each other over their stalls, the clink of metal on metal as an animal was shod filled him with a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in months.
If he wasn’t consumed with the thought of the hundreds of emails piling up in his inbox back in New York, the two massive deals his brother Joaquim, director of Salazar’s European operations, was stickhandling for him, it would almost be idyllic.
“Hey Hollywood.” Tommy, one of his fellow grooms, stuck his head in the tack room. “Boss’s daughter wants to see you.”
Uh-oh. He’d done such a good job of avoiding Cecily after that moment they’d shared in the stable. Was pretty sure she’d been avoiding him too. So why seek him out now?
He joined a group of grooms congregated in front of the tiny kitchen, Cecily holding court in their midst. Dressed in jeans and a sleeveless shirt that hugged her lithe curves, her hair caught up in a ponytail, she was a tiny, delectable package a man might want to eat for breakfast. Just not him, of course.
She turned to him once she’d finished her conversation with the others. “I want to go for a hack up to the lake. I’d like you to come with me.”
Oh, no. He recognized a bad idea when he heard one. “I still have three horses to exercise,” he demurred smoothly. “Perhaps you can take someone else.”
A female groom gaped at him. Tommy’s brows rose. Cecily lifted her chin, training those vibrant blue eyes on him. “I would like you to come.”
An order. Back to being mistress of all she surveyed, clearly.
He inclined his head. “Let me gather up a few things.”
“Don’t worry about food and water. I have that figured out.”
He saddled up Jiango, a big, black stallion he’d had to exercise anyway. Tommy elbowed him as he walked the horse toward the yard. “Making an impression, Hollywood? A hundred bucks says you can’t get past the ice cold exterior.”
“Not looking to.” He nipped that one in the bud. Rumors were the quickest way to blow his cover, particularly when they involved him and the boss’s daughter.
Cecily eyed him as he brought Jiango to a halt in the yard. “I asked you along because I decided to take your advice and spend some downtime with Bacchus. I would have preferred to go by myself but my father won’t let me ride up there alone. You will be the least talkative of the grooms.”
So he was supposed to provide silent companionship to her highness? That he supposed he could do.
“Fair enough.” He attempted to keep his eyes off her curvaceous rear as she turned, stuck her foot in the stirrup and climbed on Bacchus.
Usually, he went for tall, leggy women who matched him in physical attributes, but in Cecily’s case, his mind immediately degenerated into all sorts of creative possibilities.
Bad Alejandro. He gave himself a mental slap and mounted Jiango. “How long a ride is it?”
“About an hour. It’s gorgeous, you’ll love it.”
He did. Jiango, a powerful, Belgian-bred stallion, one of the Hargroves’ up-and-coming young horses, more than kept up with Bacchus as they rode through pastures so green they looked frankly unreal, bounded by mile upon mile of picturesque white fence.
Aristocratic flowering trees with vibrant magenta and white blooms lined the track they rode on, providing shade to the long legged, elegant horses who dozed beneath a sky of the deepest blue.
The sun moved high in the sky as midday closed in. They left the pastures behind and entered a shady, light-dappled forest. Cecily turned to him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Want to show me what you’ve got, Hollywood?”
“If the prize is you not calling me that,” he responded dryly, “I’m in.”
“Done.” A wider smile, a dazzling one that lit her face. “A race then, to the end of the road. First person over the creek wins.” Her mouth pursed. “I will warn you—there are obstacles. You need to keep a sharp eye.”
He’d gone cliff diving in Acapulco, bungee jumping in Thailand. He and the boys had even taken on sumo wrestlers in Japan. This would be a piece of cake.
“You’re on,” he said laconically. “You want a head start?”
Fire lit her gaze. She dug her heels into Bacchus and was flying down the road at breakneck speed before he’d even registered she’d moved. Kicking Jiango into a gallop, he gave him his head. Crouched low over the stallion’s withers, he did his best to avoid the branches and obstacles that appeared out of nowhere, the odd one snagging him good.
Cecily held the lead. She was an insanely good rider, glued to the seat, but his horse had a longer stride than Bacchus’s, helping him to make up ground. He was almost even with her when they neared what appeared to be the end of the road, the track growing steeper, plunging downhill to the creek. It took every bit of his experience to keep Jiango steady as they flew down the incline and headed for the water, the two horses even now.
He crouched forward in the saddle. Jiango jumped the water in a smooth, powerful movement. A gasp rang out behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bacchus dig his feet in at the last moment, coming to a screeching halt on the rocks, nearly catapulting his rider over his head.
Somehow Cecily stayed in the saddle, regaining control as her horse skittered away from the water. He turned Jiango around and jumped back across the creek, bringing him to a halt beside Bacchus. Cheeks flushed, frustration glittering in her eyes, all the joy had gone out of Cecily’s face.
“Guess that makes you the winner.”
He frowned at the false bravado in her voice. “He normally jumps the creek?”
She nodded. “He loves it.”
“Did your accident involve a water jump?”
“Yes, but he’s jumped them since. His behavior isn’t making any sense.”
“Fear often doesn’t make sense.” He bunched his reins in one hand and sat back in the saddle. “A horse I worked with once had a bad crash on a really unusual fence that spooked him. He recovered, but the same thing happened to him that’s happening to Bacchus. He wasn’t just refusing on jumps that were new to him, he was refusing on jumps he had always been comfortable with—as if he didn’t trust his rider anymore. Because, in his eyes, he’d led him astray.”
“You think Bacchus believes I let him down?”
“I’m saying it’s a possibility.”
She chewed on her lip. “What did you do to make the horse right?”
“I gained his trust back.”
“How?”
He lifted a brow. “You sure you want to learn from the ‘school of psychobabble’?”
She gave him a reproachful look. “Yes.”
He dismounted and walked over to Bacchus. “Get off,” he instructed. “Take off your scarf.”
“My scarf?”
“Yes—off.”
She dismounted. Slid her fingers through the knot of her scarf and untied it, pulling it from her neck. Colt tied it around Bacchus’s head, covering his eyes. The horse pawed the ground nervously, but stayed put.
“Take you
r shoes off and walk him across the stream.”
She pulled off her riding boots and socks. Colt did the same. Boots in hand, he went first with Jiango. The water wasn’t deep, but it moved fast. Jiango hesitated at the edge, but a firm tug on the reins had him moving forward.
Cecily and Bacchus followed. The moment Bacchus’s hooves hit the running water, her horse jammed on the breaks and came to a grinding halt. Mouth set, Cecily walked back to him, stroked his neck and talked to him. By the time Alejandro and Jiango had reached the other side of the stream, Bacchus was cautiously making his way across.
“Take the blindfold off,” he instructed when the pair walked up onto the bank.
Cecily removed the blindfold. Bacchus eyed the stream, sniffed the water, ears flickering as he registered he was on the other side.
“He knows he can trust you to get him to safety,” Alejandro explained. “Now take him back across without the blindfold.”
Horse and rider picked their way across the stream, then back again, Bacchus’s confidence building with every step.
Cecily stopped Bacchus at his side. “What now?”
“We’ll give him some time to think about it. See if he’ll jump it on the way back.”
She nodded. “It’s just so strange. This is his favorite place.”
“He’s got something stuck in his head. Also,” he added, eyes on hers, “he’s absorbing your tension. I’ve been feeling it all week watching you ride. You’ve got to loosen up—change the dynamic between you two. Rebuild the trust.”
She pushed her hair out of her face. “My coach doesn’t believe in any of this. You’re supposed to make the horse do what you want them to do.”
“And that’s working for you?”
Her eyes flashed. Lifting her chin, she nodded toward a path in the woods. “Lake’s this way.”
* * *
Cecily attempted to recapture her good mood as they walked the horses to her favorite picnic spot on the bank of the lake, but she was too agitated to manage it. For Bacchus to refuse a jump on his favorite ride was sucking what little hope she had left out of her that she would be ready to compete against the top riders in the world in just three weeks. It didn’t seem possible.
She knew Colt was right, knew she needed to change the dynamic between her and Bacchus—she just didn’t know how.
The sun at its midday peak, hot as the devil as her Grandmama Harper used to say, they tethered the horses in a shady spot under a tree. A mile wide, the lake was a stunning dark navy blue, bounded by forests of the deepest green. Quiet—eerily quiet except for the odd call of a bird or the splash of some water creature, it made her suddenly, inordinately aware of how very alone she and Colt were.
Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea.
She retrieved the picnic lunch she’d had a farm hand drop off earlier while Colt spread the blanket out on a flat stretch of grass. He sprawled on top of it, taking the containers she handed him, a visual feast for the eye in his threadbare jeans and navy T-shirt.
Her thoughts immediately ventured into X-rated territory. She attempted to wrestle them back as she sorted out the lunch, but it proved almost impossible. He was a gorgeous male in the prime of his life, all coiled muscle and tensile strength, the effect he had on her core deep.
Heart ticking faster, every inch of her skin utterly and irrefutably aware of him, she sat down on the blanket and served up the lunch of fried chicken and potato salad the cook had provided.
Colt demolished it with a cold beer. Her appetite seemingly not in attendance, whether because of her misery or her intense awareness of the man beside her, she pushed her plate away and nursed the wine cooler she’d brought for herself, eyes on the water.
Colt rolled up a towel from the basket and propped it behind his head, stretching out with feline grace in the baking sun. She noted the careful distance he kept between them, the wary glint in his eyes whenever he looked at her. And suddenly, felt like a fool.
“I’m sorry I strong-armed you into coming up here with me.”
He paused, beer bottle halfway to his lips. “I’m enjoying it. You were right—it’s amazing up here. I was surprised, though, you didn’t want to bring a friend.”
“I don’t have any.” She gave a self-conscious shrug. “At least no real ones. My best friend, Melly, decided we weren’t friends anymore after I won the junior championship. I’m on the road so much, there’s really been no opportunity to make any new friends other than the people I compete with and those relationships only go so deep.”
“That must get lonely.”
“I’m better off with companionship of the four legged variety. Horses are endlessly loyal and they don’t talk back to me.”
His mouth quirked. “They also can’t provide anything in the way of strength and solidarity.”
She tipped her head to the side, curious. “Is that what your friends mean to you?”
“A big part of it, yes. We go back to college, my best friends and I. We’ve been through some pretty amazing times together—both good and bad. There’s a bond there that’s unbreakable even with the distance between us. One of us needs something—the rest of us jump.”
A pang went through her. She wished she had that. Someone who knew you so well you could just be yourself rather than what everyone else thought you should be. But she’d never been good at fostering those types of relationships.
“That would be nice,” she said quietly, “to have friends like that.”
He studied her for a long moment. “So Melly turned out to be a dud. Find someone else who deserves your friendship. You can’t spend every waking minute riding a horse.”
“According to my coach that’s exactly what I should be doing.”
“No,” he disagreed. “You shouldn’t. Success in life comes from opening yourself up to new horizons. Balance.” He lifted a brow. “What about boyfriends? You must have them.”
“Too busy.”
“Surely men pursue you?”
She took a sip of her drink. Cradled the bottle between her hands. “My parents want me to marry Knox Henderson. He owns half of Texas. They keep throwing us together, but I have no interest.”
“Why?” An amused glitter filled his gaze. “Is he unattractive? Too old? Too boring?”
“He’s young, attractive and rich. And he knows it.”
“What’s not to like about that? A woman needs a strong, successful man.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Did you even give him a chance?”
“Define ‘give him a chance’.”
“Did you kiss him?”
“Yes. No spark.” She gave him a considering glance, having overheard Tommy’s earlier remark. “I know the bet the boys in the barn have going.”
“What bet?”
She waved a hand at him. “You don’t have to play dumb. They think I’m a cold fish. And maybe I am.”
He rubbed a palm over his jaw. Eyed her. “Was this Knox even a good kisser?”
“I’m sure many women would say yes. Not me. He’s coming to the barn party on Friday night. You’ll get to meet him then.”
“About that,” he murmured. “It’s very nice of you to invite the staff but I have nothing to wear. I actually am Cinderella.”
“You get paid today. Buy something in town.” Somehow the comparison of Colt and Knox in the same room was far too intriguing to resist.
“It was my mama’s idea to include the staff,” she told him. “She always loved the family atmosphere it created. Kay, my stepmother, wanted to cut the tradition out when she came here. A needless expense, she said.” Her mouth twisted as she brushed a stray hair out of her face. “I vetoed it. It set the tone for our tempestuous relationship.”
“It’s a very nice tradition
.” Colt took a sip of his beer. “You must miss your mother. You lost her very young.”
Her smile faded. “Every day.” She looked down at the bottle in her hand. “She died up here. That’s why Daddy doesn’t like me coming alone.”
He sat up on his elbows. “I assumed she died while she was competing.”
She shook her head. “She and Daddy had an argument. I know, because the whole house heard it. It was a bad one—worse than usual. Daddy flew off to New York on business, Mama left the house in a state and came up here without telling anyone. When I finished my lessons with my tutor I went looking for her. I knew she’d be up here because it was her favorite place.
“I found her hat on the ground. I knew something was wrong. We searched for hours but we couldn’t find her. We were on our way back to the house when we found Zeus, her horse. Mama had gotten thrown from him and he was dragging her by the stirrup.” She pressed her lips together, a throb pulsing her insides. “He was taking her home.”
“I’m sorry,” Colt said quietly. “That must have been awful.”
The worst day of her life. Her heart squeezed. What she wouldn’t do to have her wise, kind mother here now to help her sort out the mess she was in.
She studied the play of the sunlight on the water, a dancing, rippling pattern that continually changed form. “I don’t think my father’s ever forgiven himself for it. I’m not sure I’ve forgiven him for it. I mean I know rationally, it wasn’t his fault, but I miss her so much.”
“Did you ever find out what they were arguing about?”
She shook her head. “Daddy won’t talk about it. One of the maids told me she heard them arguing about Zeus, but that doesn’t make any sense. Daddy never interfered in Mama’s horse stuff.”
He took a swig of his beer. “Isn’t the rumor Zeus was sired by Diablo?”
She laughed. “Oh, that’s not true. Everyone likes to make up these crazy stories about him. Demeter, Zeus’ mama, was bred with a French stallion named Nightshade—an equally impressive match. Nightshade was a three-time European champion, that’s where Bacchus gets his jumping ability from.”
