by J. P. Oliver
“Like we can beat you.” From most other people, this would have been delivered with a laugh or a smile, but Jordy was serious.
“Great. You should approach it with that kind of confidence.” If my smile was a little forced, I doubted Jordy would notice.
“Do you have a rag in your pocket? Would you mind getting the dust off my boots?”
I continued to smile, took the rub rag from my pocket, and wiped the dust. Jordy’s custom-made boots were shiny enough I could see my reflection.
“I’ll leave you to it. I need to get changed.”
Jordy gave me a curt nod. I knew he had hoped I would withdraw, but that wasn’t an option. I would hear about it later. Honestly, I couldn’t bring myself to care, and that had been the problem for most of this summer. It was time for a change. I had known it for a while but hadn’t been able to bring myself to take that step.
The spark was gone. I’d been out on my own since I was eighteen. After fourteen years, I couldn’t bring the same level of enthusiasm to schooling show ribbons and the occasional larger, rated show. Yet, for now, it was my life, my career, and if I couldn’t get enthusiastic about it, I was doing my students and their horses a disservice.
Steffy huffed at me as I approached Satin’s stall. “Cutting it a bit close, aren’t you Reece? Get changed. I’ll saddle her for you.”
“I owe you.”
“You’ve told me that already. Go.”
Inside the stall we used as a tack room, I toed off my paddock boots, stripped off my jeans, and quickly pulled on body-hugging buff breeches. Boots were next. Mine were well-worn, but a coat of polish and some elbow grease had turned them as shiny as Jordy’s custom-made pair. Shirt and tie in place, I pulled my navy jacket from its hanger, grabbed my helmet and gloves, and went outside.
Satin stood there, her dark brown coat glistening and my favorite jumping saddle firmly girthed in place. The mare gave me a reproachful look.
“I know, you’re feeling neglected, but Steffy’s given you a fantastic makeover.”
My friend popped her head around from the other side where she was still fiddling with the bridle’s throatlatch. “Stop jabbering. The first round is already on course. You have about five minutes to pop her over some fences. I’ve jogged her back and forth a couple times to warm her up. Mount.”
In another minute, Satin and I were the ones joining the melee of the warm-up ring. Steffy must have shown the mare enough of the showgrounds already that she had calmed down. I was able to go right to work without the usual horse-eating monsters jumping out to spook her. She cleared the vertical with ease and responded well when I checked her speed going into the oxer. Feeling the lift and power of her jump made me grin.
This mare was so amazing, with so much heart. I hoped I was worthy of her.
“You’re on deck,” Steffy called from the fence.
“Thanks.” I trotted out of the ring and halted next to the in gate. Jordy was on course. His gelding was doing well. Not much flash, but the horse was a dependable, capable ride. They went clear. As Jordy trotted past, he gave me a challenging smile.
“Top that, Wilder.”
I guess it never occurred to him to say thanks for the training or thanks for finding this horse for me. Whatever.
“Great round, Jordy,” I told him with a smile.
The announcer called my number. We trotted into the ring, stopped, and saluted the judge. At her nod, I put Satin into an easy, collected canter and circled before going through the start flag.
“Okay, girl,” I whispered to my mare. “Show them how it should be done.”
She went clear as well, leaving every obstacle standing without even ticking a rail. In addition to my clear, Jordy and two others also had clean rounds. We would have to do a jump-off round. Now, not only was going clear important, so was time. The announcer called the fences that would be included and the order of go.
Jordy halted his gelding next to me. “Nice first round you had, but I’m sure I’ll take the jump-off from you.”
My gaze slid sideways. He wanted me to hand it to him. Deliberately.
I held his gaze. “I’m sure the best horse will win.”
Fifteen minutes later, I galloped out of the ring with the championship ribbon. Jordy had taken third. He was waiting for me at our row of stalls.
“What the fuck do you think you were doing?” he snarled. “I’m your damn client.”
I dismounted and stared at him. “I’m giving my horse the chance she deserves.”
“And that’s why you’ll never make it. I’m the best paying client you have. Without my money to pay your entry fees, you and that horse will be as washed up as your father!” He turned on his heel. “My new trainer will be over in the morning to move my horses.”
He stomped away, leaving his gelding’s reins hanging, and the horse still blowing and sweaty. The loss of Jordy would be a financial hit, no doubt about it. It might even be a knockout punch, but all I could think was good riddance to any human who would leave his horse tired and overheated. I took the gelding’s reins, along with my mare’s. After running up the stirrups, I loosened girths and began walking both horses to cool them and give them a chance for their breathing to return to normal.
Steffy was loading her horses on a big six-horse trailer. “You need a hand?”
“No. Thanks. I got it. Jordy dumped me.”
Steffy grimaced. “Ouch. I know that hurts, but damn, a part of me says good riddance. I saw him talking to Pinecroft’s trainer.”
I shrugged, a bit more nonchalantly than I felt. “Something else will come along.”
Steffy nodded. “Give me a call if you need anything. I mean it, Reece. Don’t be an ass.”
I gave her a wave and continued on my way. Jordy’s gelding and Satin were the only horses I had to take back to the small stable I leased. As I drove, I couldn’t help replaying Jordy’s comment about me turning out like my dad. He’d known exactly which of my buttons to push. My father had bet his entire career on the one racehorse he was positive was going to be a superstar. When the colt broke down, so had my dad.
That wasn’t going to happen to me. That was what I had always sworn, but right now there were only a few kids on ponies and Satin standing between me and the failure I hoped to avoid.
Fuck. I slapped my hand on the steering wheel as I halted in front of the barn. The sun had sunk enough for the dusk to dawn light over the stable door to come on. As I jumped from the truck cab, my phone rang. I started to ignore it. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to anybody.
At the last minute, I swiped my thumb across the unknown number.
“Hello.”
“This is Whitt Dailey. I’m looking for Reece Wilder.” The deep, sexy voice on the other end of the call sent a shiver down my spine.
“This is he.”
“I got your name from Sherry Rowland. I’m looking for a trainer who can set up the stable on my property and teach me how to ride. You interested?”
Play it cool. It could be nothing, or it could be the very thing I needed at this moment.
“Maybe. What exactly do you mean by setting up the stable?”
“It’s empty. I’d need you to buy horses and equipment for me.”
“I think I could handle that.” Like a chocoholic in a candy store. I dug my free hand inside the pocket of my jeans to stop it from shaking. I didn’t want to be too hopeful, but whoever this Whitt Dailey was might be the answer to my prayers.
“Meet me at my place at eight tomorrow morning.” He rattled off an address. “I’ll give you the tour, and we can discuss terms.”
After I ended the call, I slapped my thigh. Ripper raced toward me and leaped into the air. I caught him in mid-jump, a big grin on my face. “I think things are looking up, buddy.”
3
Reece
Stone gateposts bordered the drive leading to Whitt Dailey’s home. From the road lush pastures unfolded like a carpet leading to a large, white and green ba
rn. If someone had asked me to picture my fantasy horse farm, this was it. I rolled down my window to suck in the sweet smell of freshly mown grass.
Beyond the barn was an impressive stone house with a roof of dark slate. The multi-paned windows bordered in bright white and the dark green double front door mirrored the barn’s colors. Dailey must have money to burn. The place looked like it had been there since colonial times.
Maybe it had, but I knew from my research that its present owner was new to the area. Around here, that identifier would stick through a couple generations.
I parked my truck in front of the barn, where Dailey said he would meet me. I desperately needed to make a good first impression. As I hopped from the cab, a man slightly taller than me, dressed in an impeccably cut suit with a phone plastered to his ear, stepped from the dimly lit barn aisle into the sun. The light glinted off rich, dark hair, but it was the clear, piercing quality of his gray eyes that made me catch my breath and go as still as a startled deer. Our gazes met. His eyes widened, and I wondered if he felt that same stab of yearning I had. He looked as delicious as a GQ model, and I ached to think he would be off limits, if this was indeed my boss.
I surreptitiously wiped my palms on my jeans. His silvery eyes followed my movement and a faint smile curved generous lips as though he somehow knew what I was thinking.
Please, God, don’t let me get a hard-on right now.
He ended whatever call he was on and extended his right hand, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Whitt. You must be Reece.”
“I am.” I looked around. “Nice place.”
Whitt brushed a cobweb from the charcoal gray of his sleeve as Ripper rounded the back of the truck. His ears pricked, and he gave a short woof before trotting toward Dailey. This could be bad. He’d started to lift his leg on Jordy when they’d first met. In fact, Ripper usually greeted Jordy with a growl, as he had Jordy’s new “trainer” when he’d arrived to remove my ex-client’s horses. This time, though, Ripper stopped in front of my potential employer and gazed at him with a faint wag of his stubby tail.
Damn. The dog liked him.
Dailey arched a brow. “Who’s this?”
“Ripper.”
Whitt squatted and extended his hand for the dog to sniff. After the initial greeting, Ripper actually took a step forward.
“He likes you.” If there was a tone of disbelief in my voice, it was simply because Ripper didn’t like many people. Me. Steffy. Now Whitt. That was it. Well, he tolerated Beanie.
Whitt stood with that cool smile still curving his lips. He glanced at his watch. “Why don’t we go ahead and take a look around? I have to be in Alexandria in a couple hours. You tell me where you want to start.”
I stepped forward. “Here would be great.”
This close, I could smell the mix of citrus and spice in his cologne. I gave him a side glance and realized he was checking me out, but with such surreptitiousness that I doubted there was anything sexual to it. Too bad.
I flicked the light switch outside what I assumed was a combination tack and feed room. Aisle lights immediately sprang on. I glanced toward the ceiling.
“Hayloft?”
Whitt shrugged. “I guess. Honestly can’t say I’ve spent any time in here.”
I kept the “that’s obvious” that sprang to my lips to myself. Not appropriate, Wilder. Of course, neither were the thoughts I was having about my prospective employer. I eyed his suit.
“You might want to stay here while I take a look. I’m guessing it’s even dustier than this part of the barn.”
He nodded. I climbed the ladder far enough I could see the empty expanse. Dust motes hovered in the air, riding the slivers of sunlight filtering around the loft doors. I glanced down to say something to Whitt and found him staring at my ass, his lips slightly parted. I looked quickly away, feeling a throb I desperately needed to control.
I scrambled back to the aisle and cleared my throat before opening the door to the tack room. It was large enough to accommodate saddles and bridles as well as a couple of built-in feed-bins.
“I’d like to look at your ring, if you don’t mind.”
He looked confused for a minute before saying, “Oh, the place where you ride. This way.”
I squatted inside the ring and scooped a handful of the riding surface, letting out a low whistle. “Wow. Someone did this right.”
“Sand?” Whitt asked with a trace of laughter in his voice. “Is there a way to do that wrong?”
I picked through the material in my hand. “See these pieces here? These are little bits of rubber. It adds springiness to the footing, easier on the horse’s feet and legs.” I looked at him with a grin. “And maybe your butt, too, if you get thrown.”
His brow arched. “I would think you’d train the horse and me well enough that won’t be an issue.”
I laughed. “It’s always an issue. Did you learn to ride a bike without ever falling?”
“Well, no.” He rolled his eyes. “So, is the place okay?”
I blew out a breath. “It’s a fantastic facility. What kind of timetable are you looking at?”
“I’d like you to start as soon as possible. You have free rein. Spend whatever you need. Do you have horses?”
“Two. My mare, Satin. I also have an older gelding, a lesson horse I use for beginners. I’m guessing you’ll want something more than him pretty quickly, but for the first few times you’re in the saddle, Mac should be fine.”
I glanced around at the deserted stable. While everything had been maintained, it was obvious it had been out of use for some time.
“If you don’t mind me asking, you don’t seem to know anything about horses, so why do you want to learn to ride?”
His expression was remote. “My doctor seems to think I spend too much time working and need something to do to help me relax. He suggested this.”
I nodded. The facility was first class, but I still had some niggling doubts. Having just gone through Jordy’s temper tantrum, the last thing I needed or wanted was another rich asshole who would dump me right as Satin was at the point of making it big. When he decided riding was a bit more than playing tennis at the club, I didn’t need to be hung out to dry.
Dailey glanced at his watch once more. “Why don’t we go to the house? We can talk about contracts, salary, that sort of thing.”
I smiled, a feeling of relief flooding through me. A contract. I liked the sound of that. It implied he and I both had agreements to keep. The Maysburg Autumn Classic Horse Show was a little more than a month away. This could work.
“That sounds good.”
Side by side, we headed toward the house. Ripper trotted along with us, periodically dashing under the fence and into a pasture to chase a butterfly or leap at a bumble bee before racing back to us to resume his sedate trot along the drive.
I was surprised when we reached the house that no servant opened the door. Instead, Whitt Dailey turned the knob and showed me in, not even batting an eye when Ripper followed too.
“We’ll go to my office. There on the right.”
I followed him into a room with a large desk near the French doors. Around the fireplace were leather chairs and a short sofa, arranged around a low coffee table. It was clean and comfortable, but it felt more like a showplace than a home.
“Make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink?”
“Water would be nice, Mr. Dailey.” I tended to steer away from alcohol most of the time. I’d seen too clearly what it had done to my dad.
“Whitt. Mr. Dailey is my dad. He’s not here.” Was there an edge to his voice? I brushed it off, watching him move with a natural grace to a mini-fridge in a bar at one side of the room. He took out two water bottles and handed me one.
“Thanks, Whitt.”
He sat in the chair next to my end of the couch and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “As I mentioned, I would like you to start as soon as possible. When would you be available?”
“Actually, I could start Monday. I have several kids I teach, but I normally work with them at their homes. Would that still be possible?”
Whitt’s eyes narrowed. “I think we can work that out. As I mentioned, money is not a problem.” He named a salary that nearly made my jaw drop and followed it with, “Of course, I would like you to live here. My schedule can be a bit unpredictable, so having you here would be more convenient.”
Was there a hint of a blush on his lean cheeks as he said I would need to live on the farm?
“I noticed the apartment,” I began, but he cut me off.
“That would be for whatever barn help you decide to hire. You would live here in the house.” This time he did blush. “Sorry, I should have asked if you have a family.”
“Just the dog.”
“He’s welcome inside.”
I glanced around the room. All of this sounded like a dream come true. The problem would be living in the same house as Whitt Dailey. I was far too aware of the way his tailored pants hugged his thighs, the enticing scent of his cologne, and the lock of hair that wanted to fall across his forehead.
Whitt stood, gathered a folder from his desk, and returned. His gaze was cool, impersonal, a refutation of every inappropriate thought I’d had.
“Here’s the contract.”
I took it from him and read through it. Short and to the point, it laid out what services he required from me and what compensation I would receive in return.
“I will need some time to school my mare. I’m preparing her for the Maysburg show.”
“Not a problem. I think you’ll find I won’t overtax you. After all, this is supposed to be a way for me to relax.”
For the first time, his slight smile had some humor behind it, apparently directed at himself.
So, there was a crack in the rich, arrogant asshole veneer. Dangerous.
I signed the contract anyway, hoping that with a house as huge as this one, and a schedule as busy as he claimed, I could keep my attraction under control—especially when I wasn’t getting any encouragement from his side.
