Off Course

by Georgina Bloomberg

  “Hey,” Zara greeted him.

  Jamie glanced up. “Oh! Zara.” His surprise was obvious. “You’re here early.”

  No kidding. Zara had left the loft at the crack of dawn again. Hey, it had worked yesterday, right? Gina had been long gone for her friends’ place by the time Zara had arrived back in the city, and Zara had made sure she and “Stacie” were both in bed by the time her mother got home late that night.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re taking your riding so seriously.” Jamie leaned back in his chair, studying her. “I’m sure the results will show at Washington Crossing. How’s Ellie feeling to you these days?”

  “I’ll let you know in a while.” Zara crossed to the coffeepot and grabbed one of the paper cups stacked beside it. “Is it okay if I hack her this morning?”

  “Sure,” Jamie said, looking pleased. “I think that would be good for both of you.”

  “Cool.” Zara had come to the barn without any particular plan in mind, aside from getting “Stacie” away from Gina. But what the hell, she was here now. Might as well ride, right? And if doing so happened to get her on Jamie’s good side at the same time? Bonus.

  She poured herself half a cup of coffee and gulped it down on the way to Ellie’s stall. It looked as if the grooms had just brought her in from the overnight turnout field. There was a fresh pile of hay in her stall, and nobody had brushed the dirt out of her mane yet.

  “Come on, girlie—it’s you and me today,” she said, scratching the mare in her favorite spot under the jaw. Ellie snorted and nosed at her hopefully, and Zara smiled and dug into her pocket, coming up with a slightly dusty breath mint. The horse slurped it up as Zara slipped on her halter.

  Zara was leading the mare out of her stall when her phone rang. Uh-oh—it was Gina.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said, tucking the phone between shoulder and face as she clipped Ellie into the cross-ties. “What’s up? Sorry we missed you this morning.”

  “Me too, love,” Gina said. “Especially since I probably won’t be here when you get home later.”

  Zara’s heart jumped. “Really?” she asked, carefully keeping the sudden surge of excitement out of her voice. She couldn’t seriously get this lucky, could she? “How come?”

  “Do you remember Hal and Crystal? She played my sister in that thriller I did a couple of years back, and he—”

  “Yeah, I remember them,” Zara broke in. “Why?”

  “They’ve got a place out in the Hamptons, and when they heard I was in town, they insisted I come out and stay. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Her musical laugh chimed in Zara’s ear. “But I promise to come home early enough tomorrow to spend some quality time with you and Stacie before my flight, okay?”

  “Sure, no problem.” Zara felt like jumping up and down, but she kept her cool. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

  She hung up, then let out a whoop. Ellie leaped in place, pulling back at the cross-ties with her head up and her eyes rolling.

  “Oops. Sorry, girlie. It’s okay, babycakes.” Zara continued talking and clucking to the horse until she calmed down. Even after Ellie was relaxed again—well, as relaxed as she ever got, anyway—Zara just stood there stroking the mare’s neck, deep in thought. “Okay, so I’m off the hook for tonight,” she said, more to herself than the mare. “What about tomorrow morning?”

  She had no idea. Then she shrugged. Why stress about it right now? She’d come this far. She could figure out a way to get through one more day.

  When Zara led Ellie back to her stall an hour and a half later, she found Summer lurking in the aisle nearby. “Oh, good, you’re here,” Summer exclaimed, hurrying over. She had her breeches rolled up to the knees and flip-flops flapping on her feet.

  Wish I could say the same to you, Zara thought. But she wasn’t in quite a bitchy enough mood to say it. Ellie had been a little difficult today, balking at Zara’s leg every time they passed the gate and blowing at least half her lead changes. But whatever. They’d gotten through it. Besides, Zara was still riding the high from her mother’s phone call earlier.

  “Hi,” she said instead. She gestured toward the Burberry tote lying near the stall door. “You’d better move your bag before Ellie steps on it.”

  Summer grabbed the bag and moved aside to let the mare pass. “You’ll never believe this.” Summer’s pale blue eyes were wide, and she was grinning like a loon—basically she looked even more psychotic than usual.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Zara said, leading Ellie into her stall and unclipping her halter.

  “Huh?” Summer blinked, looking confused. Then she shook her head. “No, seriously, listen—my Sweet Sixteen just got mentioned on HorseShowSecrets!”

  Zara came out of the stall. “Horse show what?”

  “HorseShowSecrets!” Summer repeated. “You know, that hot new blog?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Zara hung Ellie’s halter on its hook outside the stall, then peeled off her gloves.

  “Come on, you must know about it. Here, I’ll show you.” Summer dug into the tote and pulled out her smartphone. She fiddled with it for a second, then shoved it in Zara’s face. “See? It’s this brand-new blog—it just started, like, last week or something.”

  “Oh.” Zara gave the tiny screen a cursory glance, then shrugged. “I don’t pay much attention to blogs. I’d rather live my own life than read about someone else’s.”

  “Okay, but this is different.” Summer kept waving her phone at Zara. “It talks all about who’s winning, who’s hooking up, what different trainers are doing, stuff like that from all the biggest A barns and shows. Here’s the entry on my party, see?”

  A blog all about the A circuit? That piqued Zara’s interest enough to grab the phone out of Summer’s hand. She scanned the screen.

  “Isn’t that cool?” Summer was so excited she was practically vibrating. “See the part where it says my party is ‘the social event of the season for the junior set’?”

  “Yeah, I see it.” Zara scrolled down, checking out the next few entries. There was something about a girl who’d fallen off her pricey new imported warmblood at the last show, and a short entry mentioning some rumor about a trainer dating one of his students.

  Then her eye caught on the next headline—specifically, her own name. ROCK ’N’ ROLL WILD CHILD ZARA TRASK ON HER OWN IN THE BIG CITY.

  Zara frowned, scanning the brief article beneath. It wasn’t anything too exciting—just a blurb about how both of Zara’s famous parents were off being famous elsewhere, leaving their only daughter to brave the big city and the A circuit on her own all summer. Certainly not the worst thing she’d ever read about herself online. Still, it made her feel a little edgy, given the circumstances. What if Gina saw it and started asking tough questions?

  Just then Joy hurried by with a feed bucket in each hand. She stopped short when she noticed Summer’s outfit.

  “Summer,” she said briskly, “no sandals in the barn, remember? Get some boots on or get out.”

  “Oops.” Summer shot the assistant trainer a sickly sweet smile and dug into her tote. “They’re right in here—I was about to put them on.”

  Joy nodded and moved on as Summer leaned against the wall and kicked off her flip flops. “Ugh, my feet are soooo sweaty it’s disgusting,” she complained, wriggling her toes. Her toenails were painted a repulsive shade of glitter pink. Zara was glad when Summer started pulling a pair of boot socks over them. Okay, so the socks were pink, too. Still better.

  She glanced down at Summer’s phone as it beeped in her hand. “You just got an e-mail,” she said, holding out the phone.

  “Who’s it from?” Summer was yanking on one of her boots by now. “Is it the caterers? They’re supposed to let me know if they can get this special kind of cheese that has to be imported from Belgium. You know, to match my horse, since he’s a Belgian Warmblood.”

  Zara rolled her eyes. Her good mood had faded after seeing her name on that b
log, and she definitely didn’t feel like playing social secretary to Summer, of all people. She was about to say so when she noticed that Joy had stopped just a couple of stalls down to drop off one of her buckets. Zara bit her tongue. She was still technically on probation at Pelham Lane. Telling Summer off just wasn’t worth it.

  “Uh, it’s not from the caterers,” she said. “Not unless their e-mail handle is HeatherB.”

  “It’s from Heather?” Summer looked up and smiled. “Cool! That’s a friend of mine from the very first barn I ever rode at. Is she coming to the party?”

  Zara scanned the e-mail. “Yeah, she says she’s really psyched about the party and can’t wait to see you again, blah blah. Says she even dug up an old photo of the two of you at a horse show with your ponies.” She scrolled down, a little curious to check out what kind of psycho loser would actually be excited to see Summer. When she got a look at the attached picture, her eyes widened. “Whoa!” she exclaimed. “Is that really you?”

  Summer’s face went pale. “Give me that,” she yelped, leaping to her feet with one boot still only half on. She grabbed the phone out of Zara’s hand, quickly deleting the e-mail. “You can’t tell anyone,” she said, her voice shaking. “Please, Zara!”

  Kate stared out the car window at the lights of the Triborough Bridge, which looked smeary and unreal through the misty summer rain that had started falling halfway down the Hutchinson River Parkway. She couldn’t believe it was already Sunday evening. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard of Fitz’s car, she grimaced. Not even 7:00 p.m. If Fitz hadn’t gotten impatient and made her leave, she’d still be at the barn helping Miguel and Elliot turn horses out for the night. Or maybe pulling manes or sweeping out the horse trailers or organizing supplements. Or any of the other ten zillion things still left to do before they all packed up to leave for the Washington Crossing show early Tuesday morning.

  “So what should we do for dinner?” Fitz asked.

  Kate glanced over, distracted by the list of tomorrow’s tasks she’d just started in her head. “Dinner?” she echoed blankly.

  “Yeah.” He shot her a look. “You know, that meal people have at the end of the day?”

  Kate forced a smile. “Um, I don’t care. Anything you want is fine. I’m not that hungry.”

  “You sure? Because there’s a new Thai place on Seventy-Seventh I’ve been wanting to try out.”

  Kate’s mind had already started drifting again, but she jerked back to attention. “A restaurant?”

  “Yeah. You know, one of those places people go to eat out.” Fitz’s playful tone had a slight edge to it this time. Or was that Kate’s imagination?

  “Sorry. I’m just kind of tired.” Kate forced a smile. “I was thinking we could eat in tonight.”

  She tried to keep her voice pleasant. It was pretty obvious that Fitz was getting impatient with her, and she couldn’t really blame him. She’d barely heard a word he’d said since leaving the barn. She felt a twinge of guilt. He was doing so much for her and being so sweet, letting her stay with him all weekend.

  On the other hand, she couldn’t help feeling a little impatient herself. He knew how important her job was to her.

  “Fine,” he said. “I guess we can order in.” He swerved to avoid an SUV that had just drifted into his lane and let out a curse. “Man, I hate driving in the rain. People suck.”

  They didn’t talk much for the rest of the drive. Once they reached the apartment, Kate headed straight for the shower. She stood under the hot water for a long time, grateful not to have Andy pounding on the door, yelling for her to hurry up.

  When she finally emerged, clean and warm and feeling a little more human, she noticed the scents of garlic and tomato sauce drifting into the guest room. She pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and padded down to the kitchen in her bare feet.

  Fitz was standing in front of the stove, using a wooden spoon to stir something that was sizzling in a large pan. He glanced over when he heard her come in.

  “Decided I didn’t feel like takeout.” He grinned. “Hope you like spaghetti marinara.”

  “Sure,” Kate said. “I mean, yeah, of course. Thanks for cooking—you didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know.” He stepped over and kissed her. “I wanted to.”

  All traces of the earlier snippiness were gone. Fitz was just Fitz again—happy and carefree. “Can I help?” Kate asked, relieved.

  “Nope. Just plant your pretty little butt on a stool over there and keep me company while I create magic.” He gave his sauce another stir, then turned. “Oh, wait, I know one thing you can do. Go pick out something from the wine fridge and open it. I know we should probably do red since we’re having red sauce, but screw that, I’m kind of in the mood for white if you’re okay with it.”

  “You mean white, um, wine?”

  He grinned. “That’s what we keep in the wine fridge. Weird, huh?” He gestured with his spoon, indicating a glass-fronted wine cooler built into the base of the massive kitchen island. “The opener’s in the little box on the counter above it.”

  Kate stepped over and peered in through the clear door. There had to be several dozen bottles in there, corks facing out. “I don’t really know anything about wine. Which one do you want?”

  “Wine’s wine. Just grab the one with the coolest label. Or close your eyes and point.” Fitz shrugged. “My folks hire a sommelier to buy for them, so it should all be good.”

  Kate hesitated. She didn’t normally drink wine. She didn’t normally drink at all, aside from maybe a few sips of beer at a party or a taste of her dad’s Scotch on Christmas. But Fitz was in such a good mood now—she didn’t want to ruin it. Opening the door, she reached in through the rush of frosty air and grabbed the first pale-colored bottle she saw.

  A few minutes later the food was ready. “Allow me,” Fitz said, hurrying over to pull out Kate’s chair.

  “Thanks.” Kate’s stomach grumbled; she realized she’d forgotten to eat lunch. Oops. Good thing Tommi still wasn’t back from Philadelphia.

  “Bon appetit.” Fitz reached for the wine bottle, pouring a generous amount into her glass before filling his own. “Let’s eat.”

  Kate waited while he served them both some of the pasta. Then she twirled a few strands around her fork, blowing to cool it before popping it into her mouth.

  “Wow,” she said after chewing and swallowing. “This is really good!”

  He grinned. “You don’t have to sound so surprised. I may not be able to ride worth a damn, but even a pathetic loser like me can open a jar of sauce.”

  “Stop. You know you ride great.” Kate took another bite. This time she forgot to blow on it first, and it burned the roof of her mouth a little. She grabbed her wineglass and took a big drink to cool off. The wine tasted pretty good, too, sweet and a little spicy at the same time.

  Fitz raised his own glass. “To us,” he said.

  Kate clinked her glass against his and smiled. “I’ll drink to that.” She took another small sip to prove it.

  For the next few minutes they just ate and talked about this and that—Flame’s training, the upcoming show, their friends. The food tasted good, and Kate started to relax and forget about their earlier sniping.

  “Looks like you just about killed that spaghetti,” Fitz said after a while. “How about seconds? There’s plenty.”

  “Sure, just a little.” Kate smiled as she realized she actually was still hungry. It was nice to have her appetite back. To feel so normal, sitting here having a good time with her boyfriend.

  Fitz glanced at her. “What are you grinning about?”

  “Nothing. Just happy to be here.”

  “Me too.” He dumped more pasta on her plate, then stood and leaned across the table to kiss her.

  “Hey!” she said, laughing. “You got sauce on my chin.”

  He grinned, dropping back into his chair and reaching for the wine bottle. “Sorry. Here, drink this—that’ll make you f
orget what a hopeless oaf I am.”

  “No more for me.” Kate reached out to block him from refilling her glass, but it was too late. Her head already felt a little fuzzy, and no wonder. When had she gulped down almost the entire glass of wine?

  Fitz was already topping off his own glass. “A toast,” he said, raising it. “To my excellent cooking skills.”

  “To that.” Kate clinked his glass, then took the tiniest sip she could. “And to your excellent modesty, too.”

  He laughed. “To both of us kicking ass at Washington Crossing.”

  That reminded Kate that the other grooms were probably still at the barn, preparing for the show. Banishing the thought, she quickly took another sip. “To Flame.”

  “For sure. And also, to Summer’s over-the-top crazy Sweet Spoiled Sixteen bash,” Fitz added with a grin. “Can’t wait to see her ride in on an elephant dressed as Mickey Mouse or whatever.”

  Kate was already taking another sip, and she almost snorted the wine out through her nose. She couldn’t seem to stop laughing.

  “Summer won’t really hire an elephant, will she?” she gasped out at last.

  Fitz just grinned. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

  They continued to joke around as they finished their food. Finally Kate put down her fork. She’d forgotten to put her watch back on after showering, but she knew it had to be getting late.

  “Um, so is it okay if I set the alarm for five thirty tomorrow?” she asked. “I want to be at the barn before seven if possible.”

  Fitz shrugged. “We can figure that out later. First we need to decide what to have for dessert. There’s ice cream in the freezer, or—”

  “It’s okay, I’m stuffed.” Kate pushed back from the table. “I couldn’t eat another thing, seriously. I’ll help you with the dishes, then I’d better get to sleep.”

  He reached over and grabbed her hand before she could stand up. “But it’s still early!” he protested. “And we’ve hardly spent any time together today.”

  Was he kidding? Kate felt as if they’d been glued at the hip all day long.