Dragging my sorry, tired butt to equestrian practice at ridiculous o’clock was about the last thing I wanted to do, but I couldn’t bail. There was no way that staying up too late to read a manuscript for the third night in a row and then being so haunted by it that I couldn’t sleep was a reasonable excuse to skip a practice.
Not one that Brady—Coach Fleming—would accept. Plus, I hardly wanted to have that conversation with him. Actually, I didn’t want to have any conversation with him because I’d found avoiding him outside the training ring was the best way to keep my distance. One on one conversations were just asking for trouble.
So I dragged on my clothes and boots and plunked my helmet on my head with my eyes barely open. Good thing I could get to the stables and saddle up Charlie in autopilot. Unfortunately, my autopilot had not stopped at the dining room for a coffee on the way.
I was pulling the girth up on Charlie’s saddle when I heard a male voice say “Ms. Prescott,” behind me, causing me to stiffen and almost lose my grip on the leather. Almost. I tightened my fingers on it, pulled it up again and fastened the buckles before turning around.
“Good morning, Coach,” I said in as neutral a tone as I could. Which was a miracle since he was standing there looking fresh and amazing in his tight riding breeches and polo shirt that showed off his arms in a very distracting sort of way. Speaking of arms, one of them was flexed and at the end of it was a coffee, the smell of it making my mouth water as much as the person carrying it.
Realizing I needed to not look at his arms, I lifted my eyes to his.
He had a polite smile pasted on his face, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes, but it dissolved as he looked at me.
“What?” I asked defensively.
His brow furrowed. “You okay? You’ve got circles under your eyes; you look like you’re getting sick.”
“Just tired,” I said. “And thanks.”
“Late night?” he asked casually, but his intense eyes on mine told me there was nothing casual about his question.
“Yes,” I said, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing what had caused my late night, but I knew he was guessing.
“With Abramovich?” So much for that guessing thing.
Not the way you’re thinking, I thought, but crossed my arms and said, “It’s really none of your business, is it? I’m here, I’m ready to practice, that’s all that concerns you.” I kind of felt like a bitch and maybe I should have told him Jared and I had broken up, but it was the truth that it was none of his business, and it felt safer, easier, if he thought I was with someone else. He wasn’t the type to try to get me to cheat, but I knew he hated me being with someone else; he’d said it himself and the way he acted, I believed him. It was crazy caveman behavior, the kind that should really piss me off, but secretly, I kind of loved it. And by kind of, I mean really. Way more than I’d ever admit out loud.
He clenched his jaw and then turned away and mouthed a curse before looking back at me again. “You’re right,” he said as he dragged his free hand through his dark hair, making some of it stand up on end. I was struck by the sudden urge to run my own hands through it and mess it up even more while he looked down at me through his dark lashes, giving me one of his rare crooked smiles.
“Sorry,” he added, bringing me out of my little fantasy. “I’m not trying to be a dick. It just sort of happens sometimes.” He smirked and it almost killed me.
I shrugged and dropped my eyes from his gaze, cursing silently that my face was heating up as my fingers still itched to feel his hair between them.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked softly so none of the other girls could hear.
I shook my head.
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Brooklyn,” he said in a commanding tone I couldn’t ignore.
I looked up into his eyes.
“That blush. That was for me, wasn’t it?” he looked around and leaned slightly closer, his bubble intersecting with mine. I backed up, but Charlie’s solid body at my back stopped me. The horse turned his head and nickered at me but it didn’t break the spell of Brady’s gaze on me. “You were thinking about what happened, weren’t you?”
Of course he was talking about the kiss. The bone-melting kiss back at the dance. The one that I couldn’t get out of my head no matter what I did. The one that I knew was killing him, too. It had been that good.
“No,” I said. “I was thinking about your coffee and how good it smells and the best way to steal it from you. I’ve pretty much decided to sweep your legs out from under you and grab the cup as you go down.”
“I’d like to see you try,” he challenged, his head cocked, full lips pressed into a disapproving line, but his eyes were dancing.
I rolled my eyes. “Now that I’ve told you, I’ve lost the element of surprise.”
He didn’t smile at my joke and I may as well not have said it. “I know you like coffee and you do look like you really need it this morning, but that’s not really what you were thinking about, is it? You were thinking about me. About us. In that closet.”
“Get over yourself,” I said out loud while my weakening knees and pounding heart agreed with him.
He stepped forward, but I was still trapped against the horse and had no choice but to let him get close to me, close enough that I could smell him, sending me into another tizzy of hormonal panic. About to protest his closeness and what it would look like to the others, I looked down the aisle of the barn, and was surprised to see we were alone, the other girls having left with their horses to get to the ring.
It was disturbing that I hadn’t even noticed. I opened my mouth to say something, but my voice dried up in my throat. I didn’t think he’d kiss me, not here in the stables and not when I was supposed to be dating someone else, but he was so dizzyingly close and he smelled so good. If he just leaned in a little...
He took my left hand and pressed the cup into it, gently wrapping his strong fingers around mine. “Here you go. No stealing necessary.”
I tightened my fingers around the warm cup but couldn’t take my eyes off his.
He smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and I suddenly hated him for knowing. For having this effect on me. For being so smug about it when we were circling disaster every time we were together like this. Being together was still impossible, but I was beginning to realize another kiss was inevitable. Unless I could hold on until Thanksgiving.
He glanced up at the clock on the wall and then cleared his throat. “Practice is in three minutes, Ms. Prescott,” he said in his coach voice as he stepped back from me and turned on his heel. Over his shoulder, he said, “Don’t be late.”
I watched him go until he disappeared around the corner. Charlie shifted his weight, reminding me I needed to get moving. I lifted the cup to my lips, bracing against the unsweetened black coffee, but as I took a sip, I tasted sugar.
I turned and looked along the hallway he’d just walked down. Brady took his coffee without. He’d brought the coffee specially for me, remembering how I take it.
Making me hate him even more.