“Take your time. I’ll just hang here and enjoy the view.”
That was the sort of thing he said all the time. She’d almost learned to ignore those comments, take them as just Fitz being Fitz. This time, though, she found herself blushing the way she had at the beginning, when he’d first started paying attention to her.
As she sent Flame into a brisk trot, she did her best to return her focus to her riding. It actually worked, mostly—so much so that she was startled when she pulled up fifteen or twenty minutes later and saw that Jamie had joined Fitz at the rail.
“Nice work, Kate,” the trainer called as she rode over. “He’s really coming along.”
“Thanks.” Kate gave Flame a scratch on the withers. “He’s a fast learner.”
Jamie nodded, then turned to Fitz. “Have to admit I was skeptical about taking him to the show this week,” he said. “But I think you’re right. He’s ready.”
“Cool.” Fitz grinned. “Am I allowed to say I told you so?”
“No.” Jamie shot him a look. “And don’t get too excited. I didn’t say he’s ready to show. He could still use a little more weight, for one thing. And obviously the options are limited until we get him jumping. But we can let him hang out and get used to the atmosphere, do some schooling in the mornings. Play the rest by ear. Maybe think about an eq on the flat class or something to test the waters toward the end of the week if he’s doing well.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Kate was trying to catch up. “Wait,” she said. “Are you guys talking about Flame? Like, taking him to Washington Crossing?”
Jamie glanced up at her and nodded. “Fitz has been harassing me about it all weekend. I have to admit I wasn’t convinced at first, but seeing him go just now, I see no reason to put it off.”
“Are you sure?” Kate blurted out. She didn’t normally talk back to Jamie or question his training decisions. But this time, she couldn’t help it. “I mean, he’s barely been off the track a month!”
Jamie chuckled. “Not exactly.”
“Yeah.” Fitz reached over the fence to give Flame a pat. “I meant to tell you, Kate. Joy talked to Mr. Tanner yesterday—she called to ask him a few questions for our boy’s file, like when he’d been dewormed last and stuff like that. So you know how chatty Joy is, I guess the two of them hit it off over the phone and he talked her ear off, giving her Flame’s whole backstory.” He shrugged. “Let’s just say it’s not quite the same as Nat’s version.”
“What do you mean?” Kate looked from Fitz to Jamie and back again.
“Flame’s been off the track longer than Nat told us,” Fitz said. “The Tanners got him from some guy who picked him up from Finger Lakes like last November or something. He turned him out for the winter, then the Tanners bought him this summer.”
Kate wasn’t sure what to say. She knew Nat was prone to exaggeration, but she couldn’t believe she’d lied about this. Or wait—maybe she could. Nat always acted as if she didn’t care what anyone thought of her. But somehow, her stories always seemed to involve herself doing something super amazing. Hooking up with the hottest guy at the party. Telling off some annoying teacher in the most clever and snarky way ever. Scoring the biggest bargain at the mall. And now, riding the toughest, hottest, straight-off-the-trackiest horse in the barn. Come to think of it, maybe Kate could believe it.
Jamie checked his watch. “Too bad whoever had him didn’t put more weight on him over the winter. But I’m sure we’ll have him looking like a show horse in no time. I’ll let Miguel know he’s tagging along when we leave for Washington Crossing in the morning.”
“Thanks.” Fitz lifted his hand in a lazy wave as the trainer hurried off. Then he turned to Kate. “I’ll help you put him away so we can get out of here.”
It took Kate a moment to hear him as she slid down from the saddle and ran up her stirrups. She was still taking in what she’d just learned. Once again, Nat had managed to take her in, make her feel like an idiot …
“Wait, what?” she said, glancing over at Fitz as his words finally sank in. “I can’t leave yet. I still have a ton to do.”
“Oh, really? Maybe this will change your mind.” Fitz reached into his pocket and pulled out two slips of colorful paper, which he waved in Kate’s face. “Check it out—I scored a couple of awesome seats for that Broadway show we were talking about the other night!” He checked his watch. “Actually, we’re going to have to book to make it by curtain time.”
Kate pushed Flame’s nose aside as the horse reached out and tried to nibble on the tickets. “What?” she said. “Are you serious?”
“Would I lie to you?” He stuck the tickets back in his pocket. “Come on, maybe we can find one of the grooms to untack for us.”
Kate’s fingers clenched around the reins. How could she say no when Fitz was being so sweet and romantic? This was the kind of thing other girls swooned over. And Kate was feeling a little swoony herself. More than a little relieved, too. Whatever that had been last night, Fitz seemed to be over it.
“Yo, Javier!” Fitz called, taking a few quick steps toward the barn and waving his arms over his head.
Kate glanced over just in time to see the young groom rushing past just inside the big double doors, which were standing open to catch any hint of a breeze. Javier’s arms were full of fleece saddle pads, and a bucket was dangling from his elbow.
“Guess he didn’t hear me,” Fitz muttered with a shrug as Javier disappeared without slowing down.
Kate gulped. Seeing Javier had just brought her back to reality. They were leaving for Washington Crossing first thing in the morning, and there were still a million things to do before then.
“I’m sorry,” she told Fitz. “I can’t go tonight.”
Fitz spun to face her. “Huh?”
“I can’t go to that Broadway play.” Kate took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his eye. “You know we’re leaving for the show in the morning. I can’t stick the other guys with my share of the work.” Especially since you made me leave early last night, she added in her mind, though she didn’t say it out loud.
Fitz stared at her. “Come on,” he said. “You’re a working student, not a paid employee. I’m sure Jamie doesn’t expect you to—”
“I’m sorry,” Kate broke in. Fitz could argue his way into or out of just about anything, and she didn’t want to let him get started. For one thing, she didn’t have the time. “It’s really sweet of you to get those tickets, but I really can’t. Not tonight.”
He frowned. “Give me a break, Kate. I’m trying to make this work. Can’t you even meet me halfway here?”
“I’m sorry,” Kate said again. “But I have a job here. I can’t just run off and dump the work on everybody else whenever I feel like it.”
“Okay, this again.” Fitz rolled his eyes. “Don’t think I’m too stupid to read between the lines. You basically think I’m just some spoiled rich kid who doesn’t care about anything. Have I got that about right, Miss Too Good for You?”
“No!” Kate blurted out. “That’s not what I said at all. But not everyone can afford to be impulsive all the time like you.”
“And not everyone wants to be uptight all the time like you,” he shot back. “I don’t know why I bother sometimes. I try to do something nice for you, plan a fun evening to make up for last night, whatever the hell that was—”
Kate winced as if he’d struck her. So that’s what this was about?
“Just so you know,” she said through clenched teeth, willing her voice not to shake, “it doesn’t always work. Your stupid grand gestures can’t always solve everything.”
“Fine. Then I won’t waste them on you anymore.” Fitz turned away and pulled out his phone. He punched in a number and pressed the phone to his ear.
Kate just stood there, still holding Flame’s reins, not sure what to do. Was their fight over? Who was he calling?
“Hey, Sharon,” Fitz said into the phone, his voice suddenl
y light and jovial again. How did he do that? “It’s Fitz Hall. How’ve you been? Listen, are you busy tonight? Because I’ve got a couple of tickets for—”
That was all Kate heard. “Come on, boy,” she whispered, pulling Flame along with her toward the barn before Fitz could see her burst into tears.
“Two, please,” Marcus told the hot dog vendor. He glanced at Zara. “You want mustard, or what?”
“Just ketchup on mine.” Zara shot him a sidelong look. “Mustard is the food of the devil.”
Marcus smiled. “Whatever you say.”
Soon they were sitting on a park bench chowing down on their hot dogs. The sun was sinking lower over the Upper West Side skyline, casting welcome shade over the park.
Zara was having a great time. She couldn’t believe how well she and Marcus clicked. He just seemed to get her. They’d been wandering around the park for the past half hour, talking and getting to know each other a little better. Best of all? He looked even more adorable in jeans and a T-shirt than he had all dressed up for the movie premiere.
“So when are you leaving for your horse show again?” he asked, licking mustard off his finger.
“Not until Friday. My horses are going down tomorrow with the barn, though. My trainer’s going to take my hunter mare in a couple of schooling classes to prep her for me.” Zara shot him a look. “Wait, sorry for the horsey lingo. A mare is a female horse, and—”
“Yeah, I know, I get it,” he cut her off with a smile. “I’m not a complete idiot when it comes to horses. Used to ride some when I was younger, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” Zara vaguely recalled that he’d mentioned that when they’d first met. “Down in Texas, right? English or Western?”
“Little of both.” He reached over and flicked away a leaf that had fallen onto her knee. His fingers grazed her bare leg, and Zara shivered. “But I’m boring. Finish telling me about your show. Does your trainer ride your horses for you a lot?”
Zara shoved the last bite of her hot dog into her mouth to avoid answering for a second. Was this dude for real? Usually the guys she met loved to talk about themselves. Even Tommi’s pal Grant, who was nicer than most. It was all about how hot he was for her, how much he wanted to touch her, how she made him feel, blah blah blah.
But Marcus? Totally different. All he wanted to talk about was Zara. And not in the way her parents’ groupies did, either. Like Tommi’s annoying boyfriend Alex, for example, who was always trying to pump Zara for info on Zac. No, Marcus seemed to want to hear about her. What she liked, what she did, who she was. It was kind of weird, but also kind of awesome.
She chewed and swallowed, then glanced at him. He was watching her. Waiting to hear what she had to say. What the hell? Zara decided to go with it.
“Jamie doesn’t ride my jumper much,” she told him, wiping her fingers on a napkin and then standing to toss it in a nearby bin. “But he rides Ellie—that’s my mare—quite a bit.”
Marcus stood, too, and they started wandering down the dappled path again. “Oh yeah? Why the difference?”
“Well, for one thing I haven’t had Ellie as long. Plus she’s a little, um, spicier than Keeper.” Zara grinned as she thought back on some of the opinionated mare’s antics since the two of them had become a team. “Actually, I should probably be up at the barn riding her right now. With my mom in town I haven’t had much time to ride lately, and Ellie’s been pretty fresh. I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t buck me off over the first fence on Friday.”
Marcus chuckled. “Sounds exciting.”
“Yeah. But that’s okay—I live for excitement.” On impulse, she reached over and grabbed his hand. He shot her a surprised look, then squeezed back.
They walked along like that for a moment, hand in hand, not talking. They were nearing the edge of the park at Fifth Avenue, and Zara could hear the growl of traffic growing louder with every step. However, the spot they were in right now was deserted except for a couple of squirrels chasing each other around up in one of the trees.
She pulled him to a stop and turned to face him. “So enough about me,” she said. “Tell me more about you. How’d you end up at that movie premiere, anyway?”
He smiled down at her, his dark eyes suddenly going all intense. “Guess it must’ve been fate.” He lifted his free hand, brushing back her hair.
Zara held her breath as their eyes locked. She was tempted to just throw herself at him, but she held back. It never hurt to play a little hard to get. Guys liked that.
He ran his hand down her arm, stopping somewhere around her elbow. Zara knew a moment when she found herself in one. And this was definitely a moment. But just as he started to pull her toward him, there was a loud buzz from Zara’s pocket.
“Crap,” she blurted out. “That’s my phone.” She yanked it out and quickly turned off the ringer. “Now where were we?”
But it was too late; he was already stepping away. “It’s okay, go ahead and get it if you want.”
Just like that, the moment was gone. Double crap. Zara glanced at the phone. “It’s nothing important. Just another stupid text from freaking Summer.”
“Who?”
“Just this girl at my barn.” Zara scanned the text. Same old, same old. “I saw this photo on her e-mail and she wants me to swear, like, a blood oath that I’ll never tell anyone about it.”
“Really?” Marcus raised his eyebrows. “Scandalous?”
Zara rolled her eyes. “Hardly. It’s just an old picture of her from when she was a little kid. I guess back then her ears stuck out, like, freakishly far.”
“Back then?” He looked confused.
“Yeah. See, in this picture I saw, she was wearing a riding helmet and had her hair pulled back, so it was kind of hard to miss, you know? So she starts freaking out and begging me not to tell anyone, because she had some kind of plastic surgery to fix it on her tenth birthday, and nobody she hangs out with now even knows about it.”
“Oh. Weird.”
“Tell me about it.” Zara kicked at a stone on the path. Leave it to Summer to make some huge freaking deal about this. Just like she was making a huge freaking deal about her stupid party. “Hey, that reminds me,” she said. “Crazy Summer’s having a big Sweet Sixteen bash this Friday night. Want to go with me?”
“Friday?” Marcus shrugged. “I’ll have to check. Let you know in a day or two?”
Zara held back a smile. So now he was the one playing hard to get, huh? Good. She liked a challenge.
“Sure, let me know.” She sidled closer, slipping both arms around his waist. “I’m sure we’d have a lot of fun. Here’s a little preview …”
She stood on tiptoes, and a moment later they were kissing. His lips were warm, his face scratchy with stubble. Zara shivered as his hands ran down her back.
Before she could push things any further, though, he pulled away. “That was nice,” he said. “But listen, I’ve got to go.” He checked his watch. “Let me grab you a cab, okay?”
“What? But we just got here,” Zara complained, her entire body still tingling from the kiss.
“Sorry.” He was already hurrying ahead toward the street. By the time Zara caught up, a taxi was zigzagging its way over through the steady stream of traffic. Marcus leaned down and kissed her lightly, then opened the back door. “I’ll call you soon.”
Zara wasn’t sure what to do other than climb into the cab. “Where to?” the cabbie asked without turning around.
“SoHo,” Zara said, giving the address. She turned to look out the window, but Marcus was already hurrying away up the street. “What the hell was that all about?” she muttered, feeling intrigued and annoyed and turned on and confused all at the same time.
Tommi let her eyes drift shut as she sank lower in the tub. It was only a little after seven, but she was already looking forward to a good night’s sleep. The weekend had been fun but exhausting, and she needed to be back on her game for her first classes at Washington Crossing tomorrow after
noon.
She was sinking deeper into the bubbles when she heard her cell phone buzz. It was sitting on the edge of the sink, which was way too far to reach from the tub. She almost let the call go to voice mail, but then realized she hadn’t spoken to Alex since returning from Philadelphia. Might as well get it over with, or he’d be texting and calling all evening.
Climbing to her feet, she stepped out of the tub with one foot and lunged across the bathroom to grab the phone, slinging water and jasmine-scented bubbles all over the place.
“Dammit,” she muttered as the phone almost slid out of her wet hand. She managed to catch it and punched the button to answer without checking to see who was calling. “Hello?”
“Hi, this is Adam Dane,” a male voice said. “Is this Tommi Aaronson?”
Tommi squeezed her eyes shut. This she didn’t need right now. She perched on the edge of the tub, which felt cold, hard, and slippery against her skin.
“Uh, yes, hi,” she said, doing her best to sound mature and businesslike. “This is Tommi. How are you?”
“Fine, fine. Listen, your barn’s going to Washington Crossing, right? Thought maybe I could bring my client to see that horse of yours down there.”
“Oh! Sure, that sounds fine …” Tommi went on to set up an appointment time for the next afternoon, then said goodbye and hung up.
She sat there staring at the phone for another moment, ignoring the clumps of bubbles sliding down her legs. Tomorrow. She had to show Legs tomorrow, even though she hadn’t ridden him in five days. How was she going to pull that off? For a second she was tempted to call Adam Dane back and see if he could reschedule for later in the week.
But she could almost hear her father chiding her: A delayed sale is a lost sale, Thomasina.
Tommi grimaced, banishing the thought. Her father was a businessman—one of the best in the world, according to a lot of people. But that didn’t mean he knew anything about selling horses. He didn’t understand that it was a lot different from selling a pair of shoes or something. Had this deal with him been a big mistake?
The phone rang in her hand, startling her. “Hello?” she barked out, slapping it to her wet cheek.
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