Summer Circuit (The Show Circuit -- Book 1)

by Kim Ablon Whitney

  “But still, if you hadn’t gotten involved with me . . . this would have never happened.”

  “True,” he said.

  I let my eyes fall to the floor. He lifted my chin with his hand.

  “I don’t regret it,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “How could I?”

  He kissed me. Slow and deep. Full of love and emotion and relief. Our feelings flowed between us in the one kiss.

  “What are we going to do?” I said, when we’d pulled apart.

  “I don’t know yet,” Chris said.

  “So the whole horse show world has—” I stopped myself there.

  “Yup, pretty much.”

  We had sex right there in the kitchen. With me pressed up against the kitchen table, the edge of the table cutting into my thighs. I guess it was make-up sex. It was different than the times before. It was rougher, tinged somehow with what had happened between us. I’m not sure if Chris was angry with me or just angry with what had happened, but I felt his anger in the way he touched me. He tore my shirt over my head and pulled my jeans down, not caring if the denim scraped my skin. He didn’t wait for me to take my jeans all the way off and he didn’t bother with my bra. He pulled my panties down to meet my jeans, which were stuck at my shins. Then he pushed me, slightly playfully but also somewhat seriously back onto the table. He climbed on top of me and put himself inside me. Not slowly, carefully like he had before, but immediately pushing all the way in. I gulped as I felt him all the way inside me. He held my arms down, not exactly pinning me there, but not letting me up either.

  He did ask, “Are you okay?” as he started to thrust into me.

  “Yes,” I whispered. He would have stopped if I had shown any hesitation and I knew that. I always thought make-up sex was full of passion and feeling, but now I saw it was also still full of anger and turmoil.

  He thrust harder, the skin of his abdomen slapping into mine. I wasn’t near coming, but it felt pleasurable and exciting in a way I’d never known existed. He groaned and closed his hands tighter on my arms. Would I have bruises tomorrow? Maybe light ones? I didn’t care.

  He kept thrusting into me, going further inside me than I think I knew existed. It was animalistic, this kind of sex we were having, but in the best sense. In the rawest, most sexy sense. I loved feeling every inch of his taut muscles and looking at his tensed face as he moved over me.

  Then he came and shuddered into silence on top of me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was hoarse, as if he’d just been screaming for hours at a concert. That was how it felt—that we’d screamed and thrashed and finally come to a close.

  I wasn’t sure what he was sorry for. For fucking me like that, or for thinking I’d written those things.

  Chapter 33

  The next morning’s lesson was different from all the rest before it. For one thing Chris and I arrived at the barn together. We were also late. Both were part of our plan.

  Chris led Logan into the grooming stall and started brushing him. I opened my trunk and pulled out Logan’s bridle, saddle, saddle pad, and girth. When I looked into the grooming stall, Chris was brushing Logan’s face and Logan was nuzzling him.

  “I guess he likes you,” I said.

  Chris finished brushing Logan and I handed him the bridle. Every morning since I had been at the horse show, I had always worked alone, brushing Logan, tacking him up. I smiled as I watched Chris; it was nice to have company.

  I pulled my helmet and half-chaps from my trunk as Chris did up the girth. He led Logan out of the grooming stall and was halfway down the aisle when he stopped.

  He turned back to me. “You know what? How about I hop on him today?”

  “Sure. If you want to.”

  Chris looked big on Logan, but not heavy. He sat lightly, with his weight in his joints, not in his seat. I sat in the middle of the schooling ring on one of the jumps, legs stretched out in front of me.

  Chris picked up a trot and I watched him wrap his legs tightly around Logan’s sides. His legs never moved. I could tell it wasn’t because he was trying hard to keep them still, but because his legs were so strong. At first Chris kept his reins long and frequently he put them in one hand and patted Logan with his other hand. Logan kept his head high in the air as Chris pressed him forward. I began to think that Logan looked part-giraffe.

  Chris kept moving Logan forward, making him strut out at the trot. When he began to shorten his reins and take a feel on Logan’s mouth, Logan started to chew the bit and raised his head higher. Logan was doing to Chris what he always did to me. I could tell just what Chris was feeling, just what it felt like to ride Logan at that moment, and when Logan threw his head once more vigorously, I was glad to be on the ground watching.

  “That’s fine,” Chris said. “See what he’s doing here? Trying to evade me like he does with you. More leg and more hand together and there—” Logan lowered his head slightly. “Keep the leg, keep him forward until he starts to give and then slow things down. That’s what you have to learn to do.” Chris looked at me. “You have to learn to push, to keep going even if it feels a little uneasy and then you’ll get results.”

  Each time Chris rose out of the saddle and came down again, it was slow. Soon, Logan’s trot was slow too, not a crawl but relaxed and elongated so that he was covering more ground.

  “And keep the leg, keep the pressure on at all times so he doesn’t decide you’ve backed off. There. See that? See how he’s listening to what I want from him?”

  I nodded, but Chris didn’t see me, his eyes were focused straight ahead. He sat to the trot and then picked up a canter. “And there again,” he said, as Logan softened his back under Chris’s weight. Instead of cantering fast and low across the ground, Logan’s canter looked like that of a carousel horse, rocking back and forth fluidly. Chris got out of the saddle into his half-seat and pressed Logan forward and then sat down again, collecting his stride.

  “He looks great,” I said. What he really looked like was a totally different horse. A good one. Maybe I should have felt annoyed that I couldn’t get him to go so well. Any other rider and maybe I would have been hurt inside, but I didn’t mind because it was Chris. And what horse wouldn’t go better for Chris?

  “He feels good,” Chris said. “How about dropping that vertical?”

  I put the jump down and I moved to the side. Chris turned the corner to it, now back at the trot. Chris increased his leg against Logan’s side as he approached. Logan hesitated slightly as he reached the jump and Chris sat back in the saddle and legged him. Logan bounded over. On the other side, Chris sat to the trot, forcing Logan forward with his leg. He turned to the vertical again and this time Logan needed less leg.

  Chris stopped on the other side, patted Logan, and asked me to raise the jump. He trotted it again, keeping Logan’s pace slow but full of impulsion. I could see Logan’s eyes studying the jump as he approached it, the bit of white gleaming, letting me know that he was not always sure of himself.

  Chris jumped the vertical twice and then halted again.

  “He’s anxious because he doesn’t know what to do when he gets to the jump. He likes to hesitate, or try to run at it. And that’s when you get worried. He’s looking for the word from you to tell him okay, now jump.”

  I nodded even though I could barely see the mistakes that he felt.

  “Trotting jumps on him is great. It makes him listen and relax. Let’s put it up again and see if we can get an even more relaxed jump out of him at a bigger height.”

  I put the rail up two holes so that it now measured about three-foot-three—about the height I showed over. Chris trotted it back and forth, and then picked up a canter and cantered it twice. He kept cantering and said, “Can you go up two more, please.”

  I put the rail up and Chris cantered it again. Logan sailed over it with ease.

  Chris turned to the other jump in the ring—an oxer that was already set up. Logan jumped it no
problem.

  “Put the oxer up a couple,” Chris said. “Let’s surprise him a little and see what he can do.”

  The jump was almost up to my ribs and measured about four feet high. It wasn’t big for Chris, but it was the highest Logan had ever jumped, as far as I knew.

  Chris cantered the jump perfectly. Logan jumped it so effortlessly that I squinted at him, wondering if he was really my horse.

  Chris grinned at me. “Wanna go up a few more?”

  The jump was four-foot-three. Logan jumped it clear by at least six inches. Chris halted on the other side and patted him. Logan sighed and lowered his head.

  “You know, you don’t have a bad horse here,” he said.

  Great, after everything, my dad had picked a winner, a diamond in the rough. His impressive reach extended beyond the business world to nearly anything he touched, even a sport he knew nothing about. It’s not that I wanted Logan to be worthless, but did he have to be awesome?

  “Yeah, when you’re on him,” I said.

  Chris walked Logan into the center of the ring and halted in front of me.

  “Do you think he could really be a decent jumper, like a grand prix jumper?” A plan was forming in my head.

  “I don’t know about grand prix, but he’s definitely got some scope.”

  Chris swung his leg over the saddle and dismounted, landing close to me, as I stood by Logan’s head. Chris took off his helmet and wiped his forehead with his arm. He leaned close and kissed me. We weren’t sneaking around anymore.

  So that was how we played it. Starting that morning and for the rest of the circuit, we were a couple. We hung out together around the show, we held hands, we even kissed in public. If I had really written A SUMMER OF HORSE SHOW FIRSTS, would Chris Kern still be with me? No, was the answer anyone with half a brain would come to on their own. On The Chronicle bulletin boards, Chris posted a plea to whoever was out there to leave us alone.

  There have been some hurtful things written online about my girlfriend, Hannah, and me. I wish no ill will toward the person who wrote these things. I feel sorry for whoever it is. I’m sure some people will continue to try to slander us in public for reasons I also can’t understand. But please, if you can, respect our privacy.

  Of course there was the matter of Jamie. If she hadn’t read it yet, she would likely read it soon. Or hear about it. She probably already had. She would go to my parents, so I had to go to them first.

  I started with my dad. “I have a plan and it’s not just for the fall—it starts today,” I told him when I finally caught him in between meetings.

  “Okay, pitch me.”

  I could hear the rustling of papers. He wasn’t giving me his full attention but I had no choice but to take this opportunity to convince him of my plan. I couldn’t wait any longer. For all I knew, Jamie had already called Mom and was scaring the crap out of her, causing her anxiety to flare to all-new levels. It wouldn’t take much to spin Chris into some kind of pervy predator.

  “I lied to you,” I told my dad. “I haven’t gotten better—Logan and I—haven’t gotten better because of Jamie. I’ve been having lessons every morning with Chris Kern. He’s a grand prix rider, you can google him and look up everything he’s won—it’s impressive. Even you will be impressed. He’s also my boyfriend, but that happened after he started helping me. Jamie’s the worst trainer. She doesn’t invest any time in Logan or me. Chris knows how to teach and he knows talent when he sees it. I’m not talking about me here. I can ride better but let’s not kid ourselves—I’m not some great rider. But Chris sees a lot of potential in Logan. You were right—he’s a super talented horse.”

  I could imagine my dad’s expression as he took this in. Some of it he might not love—the boyfriend part, for sure. He’d feel protective of me. Although maybe that was part of sending me away for the summer. Not just making me learn to take care of Logan and survive on my own, but maybe, he even wanted me to live a little. To get out of Mom’s suffocating bird-crazy world. Either way, I knew he would love hearing that Logan was talented. That he had handpicked a good horse. I was playing to his ego, something that never failed to appeal to him. And I was right—the rustling stopped. I had his full attention now.

  “Chris rode him the other day and you should have seen them. He jumped 1.30 meters and it looked like Logan wasn’t even trying. Chris isn’t saying Logan is going to the Olympics, but there’s undiscovered talent there.” I had planned out that last phrase—undiscovered talent. And I threw out another zinger: “Logan has untapped market potential.”

  “Okay,” Dad said. “What’s your vision plan?”

  “The rest of the circuit I train with Chris. We pull out of Jamie’s barn completely. Then when the circuit ends, Logan gets on the trailer to go home to Chris’s barn in Pennsylvania. He spends the fall working with him, assessing his true potential. I’ll be so busy at school I won’t have time to ride anyway, like you said. Then we reevaluate. Chris will tell us honestly whether Logan has the possibility to be a top horse. If you were right and he really is a special horse, maybe you keep him and see what he and Chris can do together. If not, we sell him.”

  “And you’re okay with that? If I sell him?”

  “I trust you’ll make the right decision.” What I didn’t tell my dad was my other part of the plan—if Logan went well and we kept him, maybe I could commute down to Florida on weekends to show him. And to see Chris.

  What I also was secretly harboring in my mind was that even if Logan didn’t end up having the talent to be a top horse, perhaps Chris and my dad would hit it off. Hopefully my dad would see Chris’s talent, his drive, his devotion, and maybe he’d decide to buy another horse for Chris. I could suggest my father and I meet Chris at a show or two this fall so my dad could see Chris ride and get to know him better.

  Dad was silent. I waited, pressing my eyes closed and hoping so hard he’d be impressed by my plan.

  Finally, he said, “Good for you, Hannah. Good for you. I knew this summer would be just what you needed.”

  I smiled, letting my dad think that sending me off to Vermont without a groom, all on my own, was what had taught me so much. And it had taught me a lot. But being with Chris had taught me much more about who I was.

  He continued, “I need to do a little due diligence on Chris. It shouldn’t take long. I’ll call you back with my decision.”

  His words sounded slightly spooky, like he had spies ready and waiting to find out about anyone he needed info on. Did he have a P.I. on the payroll?

  “What about Mom? I’m worried Jamie might already be getting in touch with her. Some people wrote things on the internet about Chris and me.” I shuddered, thinking of my dad possibly reading A SUMMER OF HORSE SHOW FIRSTS. How had I not thought this part through?

  “Why would they do that?” he asked.

  “They’re jealous, I guess,” I said.

  “Okay. Is there anything else you need to tell me?”

  “Chris is older than me. He’s twenty-three.”

  “Yes, I see that.”

  Apparently he was already googling Chris Kern.

  “Dad—” I said.

  “I’ll be back in touch with my decision,” he said and hung up.

  My dad would be back in touch with his decision. His decision about Logan, I reminded myself. He couldn’t make a decision about me being with Chris. That was my decision to make and not one that he could force upon me. Or could he?

  Chapter 34

  It started raining that night and didn’t stop. It was the kind of rain that comes in the mountains, hard slapping sheets that welled up into huge puddles all over the show grounds. By midday the rings were under an inch of water and classes were temporarily postponed. At two o’clock, it was announced that classes were canceled for the day and that tomorrow’s events were still up in the air.

  It kept raining throughout the night. I slept at Chris’s, waking frequently to the sound of thunder and wondered whether Lo
gan was scared. Jasper had climbed into bed with us, shivering under the covers. In the morning it was still pouring. I wore a baseball hat and my raincoat to the barn but by the time I had run to the tent, my hat was soaked and my raincoat leaking.

  Classes were called off again and everybody at the horse show spent the day under their respective tents, working on making their barn as flood-proof as possible. It was hard not to feel isolated as I worked to secure my area. I could hear Zoe a few aisles over, calling to the grooms and Jamie. “Let’s put the hay in here for now and move the grain, okay?”

  Mission came on and I heard someone yell, “Turn it up!”

  Chris helped me when he could, which made things a little better. I dug a six-inch trench all around the aisle to keep the water out and covered the hay and grain with extra tarps that Chris had. The trench was pretty much full with water a half an hour after I had finished it. I looked out at the show grounds, covered in water and mud—I didn’t know where the rain, which kept pouring down with no sign of relenting, would go.

  The rest of the day, I spent waiting. I groomed Logan three times even though he was already clean. By two o’clock, the rings looked like swimming pools and it was hard to imagine that they would ever dry up. People were claiming it was the worst the show had ever been hit and the most classes ever canceled. Some people were even considering leaving before the water started seeping in on the horses.

  Then, finally, the rain stopped. It didn’t come to an end slowly, but went from pouring to clear. The sun came out for the first time in days and it was amazing how quickly the show grounds dried up. At first glance, the flooded rings seemed like they would never return to their previous state, but by the end of the day there was only a thin film of water covering them and by the next morning, they were practically dry. It was announced that classes would resume.

  I trembled slightly as I put my foot in the stirrup and mounted Logan. I had lunged him that morning, making sure that all his extra energy, compiled while waiting for the storm to pass, was cantered out. Still, I could tell by the way he wiggled while I tightened the girth that he felt excited to be outside again.