Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Acknowledgments
Also by Georgina Bloomberg & Catherine Hapka
To my amazing friends, who have stuck with me through the good and the bad
—G. B.
Chapter One
“What are you having? Want to split some fries?”
Kate blinked and glanced up from the menu. She’d been staring at the words printed there without really seeing them. Not that it mattered. She’d been to the diner so often she knew the entire menu by heart. Still, she felt guilty as she realized she had no idea what Fitz had been saying to her for the past five minutes.
Fitz. Her boyfriend. Her rich, impulsive, adorably demented boyfriend, the one who’d just dropped the world’s biggest bombshell on her. At least it felt that way.
“Um, it’s still kind of early for fries, isn’t it?” Kate said. “I was thinking about having pancakes or something.”
Maybe a nice big breakfast will get Tommi and Zara off my back, she thought as she set her menu on the table.
She couldn’t help a slight grimace as she thought about how the two girls had ambushed her at the barn. Could they really think she was on the verge of some terrible eating disorder just because she’d been extra busy lately and dropped a few pounds? Sure, she could maybe see Zara thinking that way; she was still new to Pelham Lane Stables and didn’t know Kate very well. Besides, Zara seemed like kind of a drama magnet herself. No wonder, with the life she had—rock-star dad, movie-star mom, all the money and attention she could possibly want.
But that didn’t explain Tommi’s reaction. She’d always been Kate’s best friend at the barn. The two of them tended to see eye to eye on most subjects dealing with horses, riding, and training.
Was that enough to base a real friendship on, though? Maybe Kate had been too quick to forget that she and Tommi had about as much in common as a sleek imported warmblood and a scruffy little Chincoteague pony. Tommi’s privileged Manhattan lifestyle was as far as it got from the blue-collar small town where Kate had grown up.
Thinking about her hometown reminded Kate of another friend, one she had a lot more in common with—Nat. And that brought her thudding back to the here and now. She really needed to figure out how she was going to handle this latest potential disaster.
Luckily Fitz hadn’t noticed her expression—he’d just turned away to signal to the nearest waitress. “Never too early for fries.” He grinned, snapping his menu shut. “I’ll order ’em, and you can pick if you want, okay?”
“Sure, sounds good.”
After they’d placed their orders, Fitz leaned back against the faded vinyl seat of their booth, stretching his long, lean arms over his head.
“Anyway, back to Flame,” he said. “Were you surprised? I really wanted it to be a surprise.”
Kate pasted a smile on her face, hoping it looked genuine. “Yeah,” she said. “I was definitely surprised.”
That was the understatement of the century. Okay, so she was getting used to Fitz’s impulsive behavior. Sort of, anyway. But she’d never expected him to do something like this.
“I still can’t believe you actually bought him,” she said. “Especially right now, when your parents and Jamie are still mad at you.”
Fitz looked pleased with himself. “You’re psyched, though, right?”
Kate wasn’t sure what to say. Yes, she’d liked the tall chestnut gelding Nat had been riding at the little local show. She’d liked him a lot, actually. Flame was fresh off the racetrack, a little scruffy and confused about his new job as a lesson horse, but his quality and good temperament had stood out despite all that. Still, Kate had never imagined Fitz would decide to actually buy the horse based on her comments. Who did stuff like that?
Luckily Fitz didn’t wait for her to answer before continuing. “I mean, I know Flame doesn’t exactly fit in at Pelham Lane right now,” he said. “But Jamie had the same reaction you did when he first saw him.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.” Fitz gulped down half the water in his glass, then wiped his lips with the back of one hand. “Said he was a real diamond in the rough. I tried to pretend I found him myself, but Jamie knew right away you must’ve had something to do with it.” He shrugged. “He said you’ve always been great at seeing a horse’s potential.”
Kate felt her face flush slightly. Jamie Vos, the owner and head trainer of Pelham Lane Stables, didn’t hand out compliments like that very often. Had he really said it, or was Fitz exaggerating as usual? “If that’s true, it’s only because Jamie taught me everything I know,” she mumbled.
“Not everything.” Fitz leaned across the table and brushed back a strand of hair that had drifted loose from her ponytail. “And I should know. I may be hopeless when it comes to horseflesh, but I’ve got a great eye for a beautiful girl.”
“Yeah, that’s what they say,” Kate joked weakly, though she couldn’t help shivering as his fingers, still cold from the icy water glass, grazed her skin. Would she ever get used to having him look at her that way?
Fitz grinned. “Anyway, the A circuit won’t know what hit them once the great Kate Nilsen enters the ring with her new superstar. You’ll see!”
“You mean your new superstar,” Kate corrected.
“Whatever.” Fitz shrugged. “I wouldn’t have him if you hadn’t let me tag along to that schooling show. I figure that makes him at least half yours, right?”
After that, Fitz chattered on for a while about his plans for the new horse, barely pausing when the waitress dropped their food on the table. But Kate hardly heard a word he said. Now that the shock was wearing off, her mind couldn’t stop skimming over the facts of what was happening here, poking at them like a tongue seeking out a sore tooth. Trying to figure out how this was going to turn out okay, or at least not blow up into a total disaster.
I wonder if Nat knows yet? she thought. Flame was supposed to be her big training project. She was going to have an aneurysm when she found out he was at Pelham Lane now—and that it was all Kate’s fault.
Kate felt her fingers clench around her fork. Glancing down, she realized she’d cut one of her pancakes into almost a dozen pieces and was now sliding one of those pieces around and around, leaving smeary little trails in the syrup. Oops. How long had she been sitting there, not eating? She quickly raised the fork, but paused with the dripping bit of pancake suspended a few inches from her mouth. The sickly sweet smell of the syrup made her stomach shudder.
Fitz glanced up from his half-eaten burger. “Your pancakes okay?” he asked. “If you changed your mind about the breakfast thing, there’s still time to order a sandwich or something instead.”
“No, I’m good.” Kate shoved the fork into her mouth, not giving herself a chance to overthink it. The pancake felt heavy on her tongue, and she almost gagged as she forced herself to start chewing.
But once she swallowed the first bite, her stomach growled for more. She was ravenous, and no wonder. When had she last eaten more than a few bites of something out of the vending machine? She was going to have to be more careful about that.
She was scooping
up the last piece of soggy pancake when she saw Fitz signal for the waitress again. “Don’t tell me you’re ordering another burger,” she said, surveying his tall, lanky frame. “I don’t know where you put all that food you eat!”
“Hollow leg. Medically documented.” He leaned over and slid one finger through the leftover syrup on her plate, then licked it off. “No, actually I’ve got to jet. I’m supposed to meet my folks back in the city for lunch, remember? I told you earlier. They’re leaving tonight for Copenhagen, and I promised I’d be there for the bon voyage lunch.”
“Copenhagen?” Kate echoed blankly.
“Yeah. It’s August. Time for the annual Hall family European vacation.” Fitz wiped his sticky finger on his napkin and then pulled out his wallet, flipping through several credit cards before selecting one and dropping it atop the check the waitress had left them. “Since I’m still in the doghouse, I probably shouldn’t ditch this lunch. Though after everything that’s happened this summer, I’m kind of surprised they still want to see me at all. Go figure, right?”
Kate shook her head, her brain feeling as sticky and slow as the syrup congealing on her plate. “Wait,” she said. “Didn’t you go with them on that trip last year? I remember you missed the Washington Crossing show and a couple of others.”
He reached over and tweaked her chin playfully. “So you were paying attention to me even way back then,” he joked. “And here I thought you only had eyes for the horses!”
“Very funny.” Kate rolled her eyes. “But seriously, why aren’t you going with?”
“Why would I want to spend the whole month on another continent when I could be here with you? I couldn’t survive being away from you that long.”
Kate wasn’t sure what to say to that. Was that really why Fitz was sticking around instead of jetting off to Europe with his wealthy parents?
Or is it because he’s not invited this year? she wondered with a pang of guilt. Maybe they’re still mad at him for the Ford thing.
She still felt tense every time she thought about that. At a show earlier in the season, Zara had crashed one of Jamie’s sale horses during a drunken joyride. She’d been ready to confess, even though it meant she’d be kicked out of the barn for sure. When Fitz had noticed that Kate was upset about that he’d stepped forward, taking the blame in Zara’s place.
Most people still didn’t really understand why he’d done it. But Kate did. It was his warped, Fitz-like way of apologizing for something that had happened between them—well, almost happened—in the hay stall that same evening. His version of a big, dramatic gesture, a way to prove how much he cared, how sorry he was for pushing her too hard.
In any case, Kate reminded herself that she hadn’t asked him to do any of that. He was a big boy, and could make his own decisions. Whatever his reasons for skipping the European vacation, she wasn’t going to worry about it.
No, she had plenty of other things to worry about right now.
Kate yawned as she climbed out of her car and headed up the front walk to her house. The crickets were humming, the stifling heat of the summer afternoon was finally fading with the last of the daylight, and somewhere down the block a dog barked hoarsely in someone’s backyard.
It had been a long day. The barn was technically closed on Mondays, which meant there were no lessons, no training rides, and virtually no customers around. But horses required care 24/7/365, and the only way Kate could afford to ride at a top show barn like Pelham Lane was by working there.
Glancing at her watch, Kate wondered if she should try calling Nat. Maybe it would be better if she heard the news from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.
Reaching into her pocket, she touched her phone, trying to imagine how the conversation might go. Hi, Nat? It’s your so-called BFF, Kate. Guess what? My rich boyfriend just bought the horse you’re crazy about out from under you because I told him it was pretty. Surprise!
She winced, wishing she’d never agreed to go to that schooling show at her old lesson barn. Or at least that she hadn’t let Fitz invite himself along. Then he never would’ve seen Flame, and her life would be a lot less complicated right now …
As she reached the front door, she heard muffled shouting from inside. Uh-oh. It sounded like her father and younger brother were yelling at each other again. That was nothing unusual these days. Andy and his new loser friends seemed to spend most of their time looking for trouble—and usually finding it. As a cop, Kate’s father didn’t have much patience for that sort of behavior, and he wasn’t afraid to let Andy know that.
Kate opened the door and slipped inside, planning to hurry upstairs before she could get caught up in the family drama. But she stopped short when she saw two uniformed officers flanking her father in the front room. All three men were glaring at Andy, who stood slouched and hands-in-pocket against the far wall. Kate’s mother was huddled on the couch nearby, sobbing quietly into a wadded-up paper towel.
Kate’s father glanced over. “Katie,” he said in his gruff-cop voice. “You’re home.”
“Um, hi,” she said. “What’s going on?”
She shifted her gaze to Andy, who stared back defiantly. “It’s no big deal,” he muttered. “Anyway, I didn’t do it.”
“Do what?” Kate asked, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
“Andy’s math teacher had his house tagged and his car vandalized earlier this evening,” her father replied grimly. “And we’re pretty sure Andy and that new gang of thugs he hangs out with had something to do with it.”
“Excuse me, Miss Trask. What would you like us to do with this?”
Zara looked up, squinting against the morning sun glaring in through the loft’s huge bank of windows. One of the cleaning crew guys was standing there, holding up several pieces of what had once been a large glass vase. The guy was kind of cute in an outer-boroughs kind of way, but she didn’t dwell on that. This wasn’t the time.
“Not worth trying to fix that ugly thing,” she said, stifling a yawn. She’d been up since six—a decent enough hour to go to bed, but a seriously sucky time to wake up. “Go ahead and chuck it.”
The guy hurried off, and Zara returned her attention to the wad of dried chewing gum she was trying to scrape off the coffee table with a butter knife. Cleaning wasn’t her favorite way to spend a sunny summer Tuesday morning. Or any other time, actually. But she didn’t have much choice, thanks to Cousin Stacie.
Cousin Stacie. Every time she thought about her, Zara’s blood pressure spiked. Even after all that had happened, she still couldn’t believe the girl had just taken off, skipped town with no warning. How ridiculous was it to feel abandoned when Zara hadn’t even wanted her around in the first place?
Before she could figure that out, her cell phone buzzed. “Hopefully it’s Mom saying she missed her flight,” Zara muttered under her breath.
But when she glanced at the screen, she sighed. Definitely not her mother. It was a text from Grant.
hey, sexy, the text read. what u up to? want to get together soon? I miss u!
Zara tossed the phone back on the sleek retro-modern sofa without responding. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with Grant right now.
She heard the clink of breaking glass and glanced that way. The worker had just tossed the vase pieces into the big plastic bin they were using to haul trash down to their truck. Now he was brushing off his hands and staring at the framed gold and platinum records arrayed artfully on one wall. Was he a Zac Trask fan, or just curious? Zara didn’t know and cared even less. She just wanted the loft clean already.
It was getting there, but not fast enough. A couple of guys were busy sanding puke stains off the hardwood, other workers were polishing, sweeping, and scrubbing various surfaces, and a bossy-looking woman was wiping smudges off the plasma TV. Zara knew the woman was the foreman of the work crew, though she couldn’t remember her name. Wendy, Wanda? Something like that.
“How much longer is this going to take?�
� Zara called out, hurrying toward her.
“It’s coming along, Miss Trask,” Wendy-Wanda-Whatever said, her voice and smile way too perky and energetic for someone who cleaned up other people’s messes for a living. “The kitchen and bathrooms are spotless, and they’re just finishing up in the bedrooms, so we’ll be focused on taking care of things in here now.”
Zara bit her lip, scanning the enormous main room. Her mother’s charter flight from Vancouver was scheduled to land any minute. There was no way Zara could let her find the cleaning crew, or she would know something was up. But she also couldn’t chase them out early—it was still way too obvious that there had been some serious partying going on in here.
Obvious answer? Make sure her mother didn’t come home for a while. But how?
“Lunch,” Zara murmured, realizing it was almost noon. She grabbed her phone again, staring at it. She could text her mother and suggest meeting somewhere for a welcome-home lunch.
The trouble was, if Zara suggested a place here in SoHo, her mother would definitely want to stop in at the loft and touch up her face first. It wouldn’t do for a big-time movie star like Gina Girard to be seen looking less than glammo-perfect at all times.
No, Zara had to keep her out of the neighborhood. She wandered over to the bar and studied the framed map of New York City hanging behind it. It was a stylized collage-type thing done by some lame-ass modern art guy her mom had met at one of her film premieres, but it still showed most of the basics. Zara quickly located JFK Airport, then traced the route into Manhattan with her finger.
“Midtown,” she murmured. “East side, right on the way in. That should work.”
She hurried out to the entry alcove and dug through the messy stack of phone books and takeout menus on the countertop until she found the Zagat guide, which listed restaurants all over the city. Flipping it open to a random page, Zara scanned for Midtown addresses. The first one she spotted looked like a burger joint—not exactly her mother’s style—but then she saw another listing just below it, this one for a place she’d never heard of called La Vache Folle.
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