Steven hadn’t shown up by the time Chelsea returned from taking Sadie and Aden to the puttputt place in town. The humidity already hung heavy, and if she waited much longer, the day would grow too hot to work horses.
Chelsea peeked in on the mare, still nibbling alfalfa hay in her stall and showing no signs of distress. Satisfied the animal would hold for many more hours, she set to work grooming Acer and finding his tack in the upper training barn.
The silver convertible drove slower than usual past the bullring where Chelsea was lunging Acer. Judy squinted under lifted sunglasses as she passed.
“Are you sure this is what Steven wants?” Judy questioned for the third time when Chelsea explained their decision to change trainers. “What did Eric say about it?”
Chelsea cinched the girth tighter around the gelding’s muscular barrel then pulled the stirrup back over the saddle. “Yes, Mrs Holloway. Steven and I both decided it would be better for me to work with you for a while.”
The woman gave a cross look then shook her head again. “Are you sure? I’d like to talk to Steven, first. You just started here, and he’s been with me for a month now.” Judy swatted at a barn fly ringing her face. “And the Charity Show is less than a month away. I’d feel better with a professional trainer. Not a schooling instructor.”
Chelsea’s shoulders stiffened and her back arched. She tried to hold Acer still, but the longer Judy debated about the lesson the more impatient the horse grew. Like most of the high strung and arrogant women she’d known in her life married to Chase, the world waited as Judy Holloway made up her mind.
“If you’d rather wait for Steven, it’s fine with me.” Chelsea unhooked the martingale from Acer’s bridle. “I’m not sure where he is, so I’ll just un-tack Acer and you can wait here in the barn.”
Judy glared sideways in surprise. “Here? You want me to wait here?”
“Or,” Chelsea ventured, smug delight reassuring her. “You said yourself the show’s less than a month away. We could start the lesson and see what happens.”
Judy gave the pesky fly another hard swat, then groaned in discontent. “Fine.” She took the reins from Chelsea’s hand, and slipped her left foot into the stirrup.
“Let’s start at the trot.” Chelsea raised her voice over the sound of hooves hitting packed dirt as Judy rode to the opposite end of the arena. “You need to get a feel for his rhythm, rise and fall as he does.”
Judy cast an arrogant glance at the trainer as she rounded the first turn. “He needs to get comfortable with my rhythm first!”
Chelsea dipped her head in a slight defeat. Getting this woman, so set in her ways, to listen, would be a feat in itself. Not to mention Acer still needed ring experience, and a steady hand to keep him under control.
Why had she opened her mouth the other day? Even though, hard to admit, she had deserved for Steven to get upset. She’d been the one to step on his toes. Now, she had Judy to deal with.
“Watch his outside leg,” she warned over the animal’s thundering feet. “You want to rise up out of the saddle as his leg leaves the ground.”
Judy tilted her head to the side so far Chelsea feared she might topple off the horse and into the wall. Acer sidestepped, catching the unbalanced rider square on his back. Even he must not like the feel of an unsteady rider.
“Good,” Chelsea praised when Judy lifted from the leather just as Acer’s outside hoof left the ground. “You’ve found your rhythm. Now follow his lead. Rise when he does, fall when he comes back to you.”
“But,” Judy started, taking a ragged breath. Signs of exertion were painted on her face. “I can’t see his legs. How do I know when to post and when to sit?”
Breathless and asking questions―a good sign Chelsea had broken through. “Just follow his rhythm. When his outside shoulder moves, put weight in your heels and stand up. That’s it. You’ve about got it. There. Great. Just like that.”
After many more tries, Judy fell into a rhythm somewhat matching Acer’s. For the first time, the pair looked like they belonged together, not fighting each other in a wrestling match. Judy picked up the post on the right diagonal and floated smoothly over the horse’s back, landing with control back in the saddle, then out again. Chelsea could tell the woman held back a smile.
“We’ll try a few more rounds just like that one and call it a day.” Chelsea folded her arms over her chest, preparing for the woman to resist. She had hoped to get further with their first lesson, but the animal already wore a thick layer of lather over his back and across his dappled hindquarters. With two perfect passes under their belt, Chelsea raised her hands, bringing the animal to the center of the arena. Judy panted for breath and wiped sweat from her brow before raising her reins to park the gelding out. The woman whose mouth never seemed to shut sat speechless on the exhausted horse.
“Great ride.” Steven’s voice came from behind her. Chelsea wanted to turn and give him a disapproving look, but she kept her eyes on Judy. “Now, if you can just get past the trot. We only have three weeks left, you know.”
Judy’s submissive expression changed the instant the words came from his mouth. “I thought so. I said as much, but Mrs Brad-something-or-rather here told me you okayed this.” Her free hand flew to her hip.
* * * *
Steven knew he shouldn’t have questioned Chelsea in front of a client. Maybe that’s why he felt so compelled to do it. In a solid month he’d not been able to mesh horse and rider as well as Chelsea had done in an hour. He should have been impressed, but jealousy swam in his gut. And, even more to his disliking, guilt.
Chelsea worked on instincts, and her instincts were right. In a month she’d shown no sign of leaving Brigadoon, and pushing her away became more difficult. In the beginning it had been easy to think he was protecting the farm and Eric, but now, with her allegiance clear, he still pushed.
“Thanks for your vote of confidence back there,” Chelsea scolded, returning the saddle to the tack room and passing him in the breezeway after the lesson. “Judy was just beginning to trust me a little. I guess you blew that all to hell.”
Chelsea frowned. Her eyes seemed to catch fire and sent sparks of green light across her flushed face.
Something deep within him stirred; the feeling both unsettling and satisfying.
“It was a suggestion. The show’s in less than a month.” He pulled a booted foot up behind him and let his weight sink into the wall. “That’s only three weeks away.”
“Building blocks.” Chelsea pulled the bridle off the stall wall and passed him again. “You have to start with building blocks. She couldn’t even sit the trot without being jostled to kingdom come.”
“It doesn’t matter what she can or can’t do.” He followed in hot pursuit of her. “The judges are looking at the horse. They couldn’t give a shit about the rider as long as the horse looks good.”
“Acer looks like crap.” Her tone came hard.
“Wait just a minute there.” Anger forged through his body. Not Acer. Not a horse he trained.
“It’s not the horse’s fault,” she corrected, stretching to put the bridle on a high hook and revealing the back of her midriff. “She bounces around so much on his back he can’t help being offbalance.”
He eased. She did have a point. He’d seen the unbalance himself. The more she stretched to reach the hook the more he couldn’t control the urge to reach out and touch the bare flesh of her lower back. The skin was only lightly tanned and boasted a line of small brown freckles just above the rim of her jodhpur pants.
He stepped too close. As she turned from the bridle rack, she ran into him. Her eyes, first full and shocked, dropped to the floor below. He knew better. She was a tangled web of messed up past and family obligations. Still, something inside him urged him on. He crooked his finger under her chin, pulling her face to meet his. “What does it really matter? She thinks she looks good.”
“It matters to me.” She took a breath. “I don’t want to send a rider out there to make a fool of themselves.”
Her eyes sparked and her voice felt sharp against his ear, still she didn’t struggle to move past him. That was the only invitation he needed. He leaned in closer, stopping his mouth just above her perfect round cheek.
“Building blocks work both ways. Judy needs experience. I don’t want her to make a fool of herself, but she needs to learn to listen. Believe me, I won’t let her show if she’s not ready.”
“But, we have three weeks.” She took a step back, keeping her eyes focused on his.
“Why does it matter to you so much? Does everything have to be perfect?” He felt his own breath bounce from her cheek. “Do you have to be perfect?”
“I’m far from it,” she whispered.
“You’re closer than you think.” His finger pushed at the soft skin under her chin, bringing her ripe, plump lips to meet his. He pressed against her gently at first then allowed his need to cascade out through his eager mouth.
She lifted a hand in defiance but he caught it and pushed it back to the wall. With the grasp around her wrist, she gave in, allowing him to hold her there until he felt the resistance of her lips pressing against his. Her lips parted and he moved slowly into her mouth, tasting her sweet breath. Her hand lowered, resting on his shoulder. Her fingers tickled the nape of his neck, sending heat down his back and to his center.
When he finally pulled away, she lingered there next to him for a second longer than he’d thought she would. She had liked it. Her actions proved it.
* * * *
“Really, Dad. This guy’s got all the nerve in the world.” Chelsea took the rocker beside the front door of her childhood home. “It will be a miracle if I can gain Judy’s trust after what he did.” And to get that kiss out of my mind, ever!
On the way to pick Aden up at putt-putt, through his short-lived ride on the pony, and on the trip back to her father’s house, she had dwelt upon it. “How dare he?”
“You are the one infringing on his territory. Did you expect him to just roll over and take it?”
His comment confused her. Then she remembered she’d been explaining Steven’s actions with Judy from earlier that day while her mind kept returning to the kiss. Oh, if you only knew the half of it, Dad.
Chelsea took a long sip of the lemonade in her hand to ward off the profanity threatening her lips.
“I’m just saying, it's common decency not to degrade someone in public.”
Judd leaned against the wooden banisters of the porch and ashed his cigarette on the bushes below. “I’m not going to say it.” He took a long drag and looked out over the yard.
“Say what, Dad? I told you so?”
“No.” He tossed the extinguished cigarette over the banister. “Not every man is out to get you.”
“This one is.”
“Steven is defending what is his. Why would he be afraid of someone barely able to train, when he’s been offered a manager’s position? Seems a bit foolish to me.”
The screen door opened, separating the two, and Aden came out with a cheerful grin spread ear to ear. “I finished unpacking,” he announced as if expecting praise.
“Thank you, honey.” Chelsea tried to knock the whiny tone from her voice. “Let me finish talking to Papa, and then I’ll be in to tell you goodbye.”
Aden nodded then ran for the door, allowing it to slap the siding of the house when he flung it open. Both Judd and Chelsea cringed at the sharp sound the metal made against the house.
“He didn’t cause you any trouble this weekend, did he?” Judd took the chair to the left of the door and picked up his tea glass from the floor.
“No, but to be honest, I feel like I didn’t get much time with him. Steven changed our plans at the last minute, throwing in Acer’s training this morning, and then we had just enough time for a quick ride.” The disappointment of the day finally hit her. With all the arguing about Steven, she’d missed out on precious time with her son. She’d let the man get under her skin, and it had cost her.
No one had kissed her like that in a long time. Chase’s kisses lost their affection after Aden’s birth. He treated love as more of a duty than a luxury. There had been one man. A guy she had worked with at KGI for a while. They had had a few dates and a one-night stand. When he found out about Aden he split faster than a tree struck by lightning.
“Maybe Aden would be better off staying here, until things settle more.” Judd eased back in the rocker.
“No way.” Her thoughts raced back to her son. “I’ll work something out,” she said, determined not to let her job affect her relationship with Aden.
Her father rocked back and forth as a stiff breeze blew across the narrow porch. He pulled another cancer-stick from his shirt pocket and cupped a hand over the lighter. “Did you ever stop to think what would happen if Steven became manager?”
“In what way?” She shrugged.
“Keeping you on? You made a deal with Eric, but if he’s not running the farm anymore, what’s keeping Steven from replacing you with a more skilled trainer?”
The thought had not really crossed her mind. Her deal had been made with Eric. She assumed he would still have plenty of say in the farm. He did own it after all. But, what if he did give free rein to Steven? His show of emotions today proved nothing more than a fling, a power trip at best. It might have meant something more to her, but it wouldn’t change his mind if he wanted to get rid of her.
“I have a deal with Eric. I have to trust he’ll keep his end of the bargain.” But a little insurance wouldn’t hurt.
* * * *
Eric Chandler liked to steal away in his home office on Sunday evenings to plan his next week in peace and quiet. He’d done the same thing for years, a hold-over from his days in the business world. His small office comforted him. A stone fireplace in the back corner sat empty in the mid-summer heat. The curtains, caramel-colored suede, had been a bone of contention between him and his late wife. She had wanted something lighter, with a pattern. Still, the room suited him. Simple. Understated. A real man’s place. No figurines or do-dads cluttering up the place, just a handful of pictures taken of Nicky in her teens and one of Sadie before her first school dance. The feed bill lay on the top of a small pile of thin white papers. His first priority had to be writing the hefty check to cover the next week’s grain. The next invoice was for hay and the next, a repair Steven had requested on the Dually. Thank goodness the trainer doubled as a catch-all around the farm. Without him, who knows how long the truck would’ve been driven with worn brake pads and a leak in the gas tank. Eric made a note to call the dealership in the morning and ask for an extension on the warranty.
He worked over the bills, tucked a few handwritten checks into envelopes, licked stamps, and wrote addresses. In the years since his wife had died, he’d dreaded this chore the most. How many times he’d taken her for granted. He’d spent all his time doing the man’s work, keeping the house in working order, and watching over the farm while heading a successful insurance firm in town. With the bills in a pile ready for the mail, he pulled the large leather-bound book in front of him. His wife, Martha, had written out the dates in the ledger for the next five years. He still had two years before her handwriting would disappear and he’d be on his own. He jotted down each bill, then wrote paid next to each dollar amount. From this vantage point, the farm looked to be losing money faster than it could bring in revenue. A large chunk of the loss came from the line simply marked VA, the code he used to hide his payments to the detoxification facility in Virginia. Nicky hadn’t called in over a week. He’d been promised she’d have phone rights every other day unless she chose not to follow the rules of sobriety. She must be having a hard time. It had been over five years since her husband had left, yet she still couldn’t keep it together. He wanted to be a good father, but nothing he tried seemed to work.
He had just written in the last figure, the sale of a filly to a nearby farm, when Mrs Potts opened the door of the study with her backside and laid a tray of steaming tea and lemon pound cake on his desk.
“I know you don’t like being disturbed at this hour, but Ms Bradley is at the door.”
He glanced at his Rolex. Half past ten. Maybe she’d come about the mare. He hadn’t heard Steven return from his work on the apartment. “Is it time?” he asked, trusting the housekeeper could still read his mind.
“I don’t think so, sir. She’s just come in from town. Would you like it to wait until morning? I’ll send her on.” The woman turned, taking an empty coffee mug from the desk and headed for the door. What could Chelsea need at this hour? He hoped it wasn’t about her son. Sadie had taken such a liking to the boy, and if he let himself admit it, the tyke brought life back into his granddaughter’s eyes.
“Send her in,” he called as Mrs Potts pulled the door.
She gave a nod then left the room.
“I’m sorry to bother you so late,” Chelsea apologized after taking the seat on the leather couch he offered.
“You know I have an open door policy when it comes to my employees. I was just finishing up some farm business.” Even as the words left his mouth, he wished he had not been so liberal with his time. The week had weighed heavy on him and the wet bar in the living room called to him, promising relief.
“It’s about Steven,” she started, folding her hands in her lap and wringing her fingers together. Her body language showed what he already knew. These two might never get along. “The first day, when I interviewed, you said you had a deal with him.”
Eric nodded his head. The memory came back clearly.
“Would you be willing to make the same deal with me?” Her voice rose an octave at the end of her question.
“This is a change.” Eric pulled his glasses from his face. “I had to convince you to take the instructor position. Now you want the manager’s spot?” He lit a cigar from the humidor behind his desk and blew out a ring of smoke over his shoulder.
“I’m not after the manager’s position.” She seemed frazzled, still wringing her hands, then rubbing at the silver cross around her neck. “I’m just looking for some job security.”
As far as he knew, and from what he’d heard from Steven, she’d done a great job on the farm. He knew about her tiff with the head trainer. He’d expected it when he brought a young, beautiful woman on board to work next to the would-be playboy. But he knew Steven better than the boy knew himself. Deep down, under the hurt of being abandoned as a kid and the loss of his good name in a horse drugging scandal, the man’s heart was as big as the ocean and twice as deep.
“Is this really about Steven?” He blew out another thick cloud of dark smoke. “I think you two just got off on the wrong foot. Steven speaks very highly of your abilities on the farm.”
“It’s not entirely about Steven, but he plays a role in it.” Her voice shook as her eyes darted around the office.
Eric left the confines of his desk to join her on the couch. There was more going on here than a simple plea for a promotion. “Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
He sat and listened to her explanation of things. He hadn’t really thought out what would happen when Steven took over, and gave her credit for having such a quick mind to do so. If she could only know how much she’d already meant to him and his family, and to Steven, she wouldn’t worry.
“So,” she continued with her story. “I was thinking. You have a deal with Steven. If he brings one hundred thousand dollars of training horses onto the farm by the end of the show season, he gets the reins of the place, right?”
He nodded, interested in where she was going with her plan.
“Would you be interested in having the same deal with me? One hundred thousand dollars to secure a spot as trainer when Steven steps up?”
Eric rubbed his chin and then took a sip of the tea Mrs Potts had brought. The drink had cooled and the taste suffered. He mulled the proposal over in his mind. “I’m puzzled as to why you feel you need a deal to keep the job I already promised you?”
“Let’s just call it a hunch.” She twisted the silver cross over and over in her hand. Either way, it was a win-win situation for him. He’d have two of the most talented people in the business working on his farm, and two hundred thousand dollars would help his current financial state. Still, it bothered him to see her so worried about her future on the farm. In the month she’d been here, she’d become like family.
“Well,” he started, putting a bony arm around the back of the couch. “Let me play devil's advocate here. What happens if you bring in the money and Steven doesn’t? You’ll have his job, and he’ll be…”
“Then we’ll go back to the original plan. You did only promise me the trainer position if Steven’s promoted. Nothing has to change there.”
“Sounds like you have it all planned out.” The woman sitting in front of him had a level head. Her business sense reminded him of Martha.
“I’ve thought about it a lot,” she answered. “But I want this to be fair. I want Steven to know and agree before we set the deal.”
Eric nodded, and with a shake of their hands and the promise to share in a glass of gin, agreed to the deal. He had to applaud her honesty. He just hoped the romance he’d seen budding out on his farm wouldn’t be torn apart by it.