During the break between Wave’s second and third classes, three teenage girls edged closer to Grady and shyly asked for his autograph. He signed every last program, posed for pictures taken with cameras and phones, and talked to the girls about the show. Amanda thought one of them might faint. She had to admit, whenever he was approached by fans, he was unfailingly polite.
To Amanda’s astonishment, the same group spotted her and ran over. “You’re Amanda Vogel!” said the tallest girl.
“Yes.”
“Can I have your autograph?” asked the gangly girl.
Amanda smiled. “Be happy to.” She signed the girl’s show program. The other girls asked for her autograph, too, and took pictures with her.
“Is Edelweiss here?” asked the girl.
“No, she’s in Florida. I’m here with students.” Amanda asked the girls about their horses and wished them luck. The giddy girl pack moved on, giggling as they looked at their autographs and pictures.
Amanda looked up to see Wave and Solstice staring at her. “You’re famous, too?” Wave asked.
“Not like your dad.”
“I dunno.” Grady walked toward her. “You were a bigger draw than me.”
“It’s a horse show. They’re teenagers.” She shrugged and decided Beth was a terrible wingwoman. She would go find her so she could throttle her.
“Hey,” he said, and brushed her arm with his hand as she passed him.
“Gotta find Beth!” She walked briskly, as though being chased by an infirm, but still potentially deadly, mountain lion.
Thirty minutes later Wave was back atop Bramble—she told Amanda she liked sitting on him, like the older girls did as they waited for their classes to start—and Amanda looked up at her, a hand on Bramble’s mane. “It’s up to you, petunia,” Amanda said.
“What is?” Grady asked, as he came up next to Amanda and—maddeningly—put his hand on the small of her back. What right did he have? But she refused to let on that she noticed. And, okay, she kind of liked how it felt.
Still looking at Wave, Amanda said, “If she wants to go in the Flower Power class, which is jumping.” Grady stroked her with his thumb, which made her want to scream for Wave to please decide so she could move away.
“Okay,” Wave said.
“Great. I’ll go sign you up.” She squirmed away from Grady’s hand.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No need,” she called cheerily as she jogged away from him, pursued again by that mountain lion.
Wave and Bramble put in a solid round in the Flower Power class, where the course was composed of the flower boxes that decorated the tops of fences in advanced jumper classes. The ponies were adorable, but on the towering Bramble, Wave looked like Cleopatra touring the Nile on a barge. The pair placed a respectable fifth and Wave was ecstatic over the pink ribbon.
Amanda was ecstatic because she somehow steered clear of Grady.
Solstice and Rainy—who was competing under her show name, Rainbow Dancer, which Solstice loved but Amanda thought sounded like some Greenpeace antiwhaling craft—were registered for two over-fences classes and one flat class. Unfortunately, Solstice’s over-fences classes came first, so she couldn’t use the easier flat class to get used to the competition.
Solstice’s first class wasn’t exactly textbook, as the usually reliable Rainy refused one fence. They didn’t place, but Solstice was eager for the next class to try to do better.
The movie star watched his older daughter exit the ring. Amanda said something to her best friend and took off. Grady strode after her. She visited one of the fancy Porta-Potties, with their granite countertops, working sinks, full-sized toilets, and even fresh flowers. Typically unheard of at a small show like this, they were a nod to the moneyed Aspen crowd. He waited in front of the door, and when she opened it, he stepped in, forcing her to back up, and locked the door.
“Hey!” she said.
“Sorry,” he said softly. “But we need to talk.”
“I’m happy to answer any show questions you have.”
“That’s not what we need to talk about and you know it.” He removed his Oakleys, folded them, and slid one of the temples into the collar of his T-shirt.
She regarded him, arms crossed. Her sunglasses perched atop her Devon ball cap. Her body language did not shout forgiveness. No, she was less Gandhi and more Doberman. He dove in anyway.
“Look. I was an idiot that Sunday morning. I was stupid, petty.”
She licked her lips and studied the countertop. “It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly, and wouldn’t meet his eyes.
He had to touch her, so he put his hands on her shoulders, but she backed away. He could smell the lilies in the oversized vase on the countertop. He hated that smell.
Defiance seasoned her stare. “To what do I owe the honor of being stuck in a Porta-Potty with you? Did you want to thank me for not inadvertently killing your children? Even though, as you said, it wouldn’t have been my fault because I’m mentally ill? Oh, and the nice people at The Little Nell let me keep my shoelaces and belts and let me have a razor so I could shave my legs. They live on the edge.”
“Amanda. I’m so sorry. I apologize. I was wrong. I let my mother cloud my judgment. I have this thing about my kids getting hurt, and you were right about everything. My guilt over Annie, my jealousy of you, and all that baggage with my mother. I’m sorry; I was wrong and I never should have said what I said. I trust you implicitly. You’re the sanest, most together person I know. I wish I could take everything back.
“You wanna hear something stupid? The real reason I said all that was because I was hurt that you told him—Luke—about your overdose before you told me. I hated that you told him. And I didn’t figure that out until last night when Harris helped me see the light.”
She nodded.
He had hoped for a little more enthusiasm. “Don’t you believe me?”
“Shouldn’t I?”
“Yes! Aren’t you . . . happy that I realized what an idiot I was?”
“What happened with the engagement?”
“It’s over.”
“Did you act . . . engaged during the press tour?”
“Only in public.”
“And in private?”
Ah. She was concerned about Priscilla. If she only knew.
“Nothing. She came on to me once, but I turned her down cold. Nothing happened. She’s a friend, and that’s it. I meant what I said at the party. I want you. Not her. Not anyone else.”
“Let’s say you’re telling the truth—”
“I am telling the truth!” He should have sent more flowers. Why hadn’t he sent more flowers? Or a car. He should have given her a car. Or a truck. Yes! Damn. Why hadn’t he thought to buy her a truck to replace that rust bucket she had?
She looked at her watch. “Your daughter’s class is soon.” She pushed by him, but he put his hand on the door so she couldn’t open it.
How he wanted to take her in his arms right then. Instead, he spoke. “Can we start over? From the bottom of your stairs after the party?” He lowered his head to kiss her.
She slid out from between him and the door. “Look. It was a fun summer. The party was great. Let’s leave it at that. This weekend is a natural stopping point.”
He leaned against the door, crossed his arms, and stared at her. He gave her idea the nanosecond of consideration it deserved, snorted a laugh, and said, “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“Didn’t you read the cards on the flowers? I couldn’t wait for that damn tour to end so I could see you. I’m not giving up because it’s Labor Day!”
“You don’t have a choice.” She moved to the granite counter so her back was to him and fingered a white lily petal. “I drive your horses to LA, then go to Florida. I go my way, you go yours.”
“Two ships in the night.”
“Something like that.”
“Bullshit.”
She lo
oked at him in the mirror from under the fraying bill of her cap. He crossed the tiny space until he was right behind her and put his hands on the counter on either side of her, trapping her but not touching her—he didn’t trust himself to touch her. He lowered his voice and said, “Tell me you don’t feel anything for me and I’ll go. Tell me you don’t feel whatever it is between us even this minute.” He could feel the heat of her and smell her, horses and sunscreen, as he continued, whispering now. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about that kiss, because I sure have.” He weighed his next words before sending them into her ear. “Do you know why I didn’t sleep with Priscilla? Because it would’ve felt like I was cheating on you.”
“I have to go,” she whispered, but neither of them moved.
He cocked his head slightly as a revelation surfaced. “You’re afraid, aren’t you? That’s why you’re running. You’re scared because this is real.”
He saw a muscle flex in her jaw.
“Don’t you think I’m scared, too?” He said it as gently as he could. “But it’s like what you said about the people who don’t want a dog because it’ll die one day. What did you tell the girls? ‘Throw your heart over the fence and the horse will follow’? Let’s toss those suckers.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“In a minute!” he yelled.
Amanda turned to face him, and he backed up to give her room. She looked at him and said, barely above a whisper, “You could leave. People leave.”
Her mother. Rick. Even Courtney and her father had, in a way. He recognized the courage it took to tell him this and felt his heart jolt. He pulled her to him and didn’t care if she fought. “Oh, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not that asshole trainer. I won’t leave you.”
He was about to kiss her when the announcer stated that Solstice’s beginner equitation class was starting. The timing couldn’t have sucked more.
“Come on!” she said as she swiped at her eyes. She threw the door open, and he followed her closely.
“Sorry,” Grady said over his shoulder to the line that had formed.
“Hey, Matt Braxton!” a man in line called, and Grady waved as he ran after Amanda.
20
Solstice and Rainy’s second class started beautifully, but Solstice stiffened as she approached the fence the mare had refused in the first class. Amanda said, just loudly enough for Solstice to hear, “Trust her. Think blindfold.”
Solstice actually closed her eyes. The shiny chestnut’s ears pricked forward as she sighted the fence, committed to it, and made a picturesque jump, knees snapping up. Solstice opened her eyes, grinned, and finished the course flawlessly. Amanda folded her hands as though in prayer and slumped back, knocking right into Grady. This time, when he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her, she didn’t wriggle away. As Rainy landed over the final fence, Amanda hooted and applauded.
Solstice ended up second in a class of eighteen and Amanda couldn’t stop smiling. The gifted Brunswick daughter had recovered from a mistake midcourse, which was quite a feat for a girl at her first show. Solstice floated through her last class, Beginner Equitation on the Flat. Thanks to Rainy’s athletic way of going and Solstice’s naturally quiet hands and classic position, they took first.
Solstice piloted her mare out of the ring and Amanda caught the reins and led her off to the side, away from the in gate. “That is super awesome for your first show!” Amanda used the girl’s favorite phrase. “Good girl!” Amanda said to Rainy, scratching her behind the ear where she seemed to always be itchy. The mare twisted her head and puckered her upper lip.
“Okay, jump off. She doesn’t have to haul you around anymore.” Solstice practically flew off the horse, hugged the gleaming chestnut neck, and frantically kissed the mare. Grady encased his oldest daughter in a bear hug and whispered something that made her smile and hug her dad hard. Wave, Harris, and Jacqueline gathered around the father and daughter, while Amanda slipped away and led Rainy to her stall.
Beth intercepted her.
“I’ll take her,” Beth said. “You’re wanted in the show office.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Far from it. Just go.” Beth grinned almost maniacally.
Once in the show office, Amanda was shocked to see Paul Reade, the Olympic silver medalist. He wore a plaid shirt and jeans and towered over her as he extended his hand.
“Amanda, I’m Paul Reade.” He shook her hand.
“Yes, you are, I know.” Could she have possibly sounded dumber? Maybe she could drop and break his silver medal. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a big fan.” She made herself stop talking because she felt a traffic jam of words forming, and if she didn’t shut up, she would undoubtedly embarrass herself.
“It’s mutual.”
She stared at him in abject shock. She had obviously just acquired a hearing problem.
He smiled. “Do you have a minute?”
She nodded so quickly, she felt like a bobblehead. He opened the office door and led her to a picnic table. More than a decade had passed since his Olympic success; his hair was completely silver now, but his face was still boyishly handsome and tan. He looked like an aging surfer.
“I’ll cut to the chase.” They sat across from each other. “You’re the best rider on the circuit, and your riding style suits mine, as does your personality. I want you to be my assistant.”
Amanda couldn’t think of a thing to say. She finally managed, “Are you serious?”
He laughed. “Yes, I’m serious. You’d have to move to Georgia for the winter and go to Europe sometimes. We can work out the details later, but I wanted to make the offer before someone else snapped you up. I’m glad I could catch you here.”
“Why are you here?” She added, “No offense. But this is a tiny show.”
He laughed again. He had a nice laugh, and he wasn’t afraid to use it.
“A friend of mine is a breeder and has some youngsters in the jumper classes. I wanted to see them—always looking for the next great horse. I found out you were going to be here when I called your current employer. I spoke to . . . Jacqueline Heinrich, I believe. She raved about you, as did everyone else I spoke to. The biggest one came from Grady Brunswick himself. He’s a nice guy—called me back and couldn’t say enough good things about you. People in Florida spoke highly of you, too.” He paused. “By the by, I know all about Courtney, and I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
The air whooshed out of her lungs. The horse-show world was a small one. Paul Reade knew about her PTSD, which indicated that if the story was juicy enough, the show community became microscopic. “Mr. Reade, I—”
“Paul. Please.”
“Paul, I don’t know what to say.”
“I’ll have my assistant call you with the details. Call me with questions, but I’ll need your answer by close of business on Sunday, one week from today.” He gave her a business card and smiled. “Oh, and Amanda—I’ll do everything I can to get you on the team.”
The Olympic team. Holy cow. Holy cow holy cow holy cow.
Paul left and Amanda felt like she’d just been mowed down by a herd of galloping Percherons.
Amanda returned to the shed row where Beth was helping the girls hose off the horses. Harris and Jacqueline had gone to find lunch. Grady—Grady—was cleaning a saddle. Wonders never ceased.
Beth saw her first, handed the hose to Solstice, and ran to her. “Did he do what I think he did?” Beth asked quietly. Amanda glanced at Grady, but his face was impossible to read.
Amanda whispered, “If it was offering me a job, yes.” Beth grabbed Amanda’s arms and squealed. Amanda had to sit down right then, so she stumbled to a folding camp chair and plopped into it. Grady said nothing, just kept rubbing that saddle with a sponge.
She felt him looking at her. After a minute she sighed, pushed herself up, and stood in front of him and the exceptionally clean, well-conditioned saddle.
“I just talked to Paul Reade
. I want to talk about this, but not now.”
“Just don’t decide anything for a day or two, okay?” He sounded so kind, she felt her damn throat tightening. Move over, Meryl Streep, she could cry on cue now. She nodded, then went to help the pit crew finish with the horses and hang the satin ribbons on the stall doors.
A half hour later Team Brunswick sat under a tree not far from the stalls, eating sandwiches, except for Amanda, who could neither eat nor fathom that Paul Reade had offered her a job.
Then, as though she had conjured him, Paul strode up to her.
“Hello, Amanda.” She stood and returned the greeting. She was about to introduce him to everyone, but he silenced her with his next sentence. “I need a favor. Would you ride in a baby jumper class? Right now? The woman who was going to got stung by a bee and is allergic. I’d ride, but my back can’t take it.”
Ride in a show? Her brain went numb, then her first coherent thought was no way. But then again, it was a teeny show with small fences. But a green horse? That was the wild card.
Again, as though he’d read her mind, Paul said, “You’ll love the horse. He’s sensible and solid; he just needs some mileage. He’s as push-button as they come.”
Yes. Yes, she could do this. It would be like schooling. She’d be fine. She’d say yes before she chickened out. “I’m not registered.”
“I took care of that.”
Of course he had. “Okay,” she heard herself saying. She looked at Grady, who smiled encouragement. “I need a shirt.”
“I’m sure we can find something,” Paul said. “If not, we’ll buy one.” There were several vendors on the grounds. “This way.” And he walked off.
She grabbed her helmet and gloves and followed.
Grady stood and said to Harris, “I’m going with her.” Then to Beth, “You think she’ll be okay?”
“Yeah.”
Grady looked at Beth. “How can I help her?”
Beth shrugged. “It’s up to her now. Just be there for her. Buy her a drink when she’s done.” She grinned at him. He smiled back. He liked this Beth. She was a good friend to Amanda.
Thrown Page 26
