Shattered Dreams (Dreams Series Book 1)

by Hicks, Braxton

  Andy was eerily quiet as he took the reins from me and walked Jezebel into the stables off of the paddock. And then my questions were answered—all of them. Andy handed off Jezebel’s reins to one furiously angry, blue-eyes-blazing Trey.

  Holy Shit.

  Trey dismissed Andy. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Trey quickly untacked Jezebel and led her to her stall. He turned and addressed me, leaning in. I was mere inches from his beautiful, but very angry face. “What do you have to say for yourself T.J.?” he seethed, putting emphasis on my jockey name.

  I was distraught and humiliated that it had come to this. How could I have been so stupid? Part of me actually thought he might've been pleased about my win. But he'd crushed me with that one show of power.

  “How could you do that?” I could tell my demeanor had entirely thrown him off. He'd expected a fight. He hadn't expected this from me. I couldn't bring myself to argue with him. He had the control. I knew it, he knew it - and that was all that mattered.

  But that's where we were fundamentally different. I had wanted to succeed for him - for Sinclair Stables. I had wanted to show him that in some way I was worthy of his respect - that I wasn't that irresponsible girl that nearly drowned in his pool. Trey wanted something totally different— it was all about control. But why me?

  I looked up at him, searching his eyes for a clue as to why he would embarrass and humiliate me like this. He clearly didn’t care. He gazed down at me, the anger completely gone from his face. It was replaced by something else that was unreadable. It wasn’t pity, regret, or compassion even; it was something I didn’t recognize.

  He put his arms around me and pulled me close. This was no answer. I pushed away from him, pulling off the jockey silks that belonged to Sinclair Stables, holding them out to him. He was confused. He didn’t move.

  “Here take them,” I said, tossing the silks at him. “These belong to you, but nothing else here does."

  The trail back to the cabins was dark; I stumbled several times on the path through the wooded area. Behind me, the racetrack was lit up with a fireworks show, signaling the end of the racing events for this evening.

  Ahead of me, I could finally see porch lights on the bank of cottages. They were all lit except for mine. There was an interior light on inside my cottage that I didn't remember leaving on. As I climbed the steps to my porch, I scanned the row of cabins. Everyone else was out at the track, or partying, or on dates. It was eerily quiet around the row of cottages.

  I reached for my doorknob and it turned freely. I knew for sure that I'd locked it when I left. Fumbling inside on the wall for the light switch, my throat lurched; the bulb in my porch light had been removed. I peered through the front window but saw that nothing seemed out of place inside. I considered going around to the side of the cottage to check the bedroom window.

  Just as I turned around to leave the porch I collided with a hard chest. My heart raced as I started to scream. Strong arms reached for me as I started to struggle. It was Trey.

  “Oh my God, " I gasped. "What are you doing here?”

  "I needed to talk to you," he replied.

  “So you come over here and lurk around so that you can scare the shit out of me? How'd you get in my cottage?'

  “I didn't go inside Tylar,” he stated, flatly. “I wanted to talk to you so I came here. I saw you peeking in your own window so I figured maybe you were locked out."

  “As a matter of fact, my door is unlocked and lights are on that weren’t on when I left,” I stated sharply.

  His brows furrowed with concern. “Let me at least make sure you get settled inside safely,” he offered.

  As much as I didn’t need his constant oversight into my safety and protection, I was a bit creeped out by the current situation. I nodded my head. He opened the door and went in first. I followed closely behind him. I stayed in the living area while he went on into the bedroom then the bathroom. I heard him open the closet doors, then swing the bathroom door shut making sure no one was lurking. He came back out, giving me a sheepish smile.

  “Everything’s clear,” he said, “no one’s hiding in the closet or behind the shower curtain. Only things under your bed were a couple of dust bunnies.”

  “Very funny,” I replied sarcastically.

  His charming manner wasn't going to melt me so easily this time. For all I knew, he might have staged the whole thing to create a damsel-in-distress fantasy to feed his bottomless ego.

  He came over to where I was standing. Despite my skepticism, I couldn't help being attracted to him. He had his dress pants on, a white shirt, and a gorgeous tie that very closely matched his eyes. His sleeves were rolled back a bit and he smelled great.

  I didn’t want to look up at him because I didn't know what to think about his being here. What was I to him? He pulled me into his strong arms. I didn’t push back this time. He held me close and I melted. He put one of his hands behind my neck, capturing my ponytail and twisting it around his fingers gently. His other hand was on my back, gently rubbing and pressing me close to his heart.

  “Tylar,” his voice was gentle but a little husky, and I knew he was going to say something that would stir up my emotions. I wasn't real sure that I wanted him to, but I needed to figure out what this man was to me. “I’m sorry that I had to scratch Jezebel from the race this evening. But I'll tell you this, if I had it to do over again, I'd do nothing differently.”

  I looked up at him, confused.

  “Come here,” he said, softly, as he moved over to the small sofa and sat down, stretching his long, well-muscled legs. He pulled me down next to him. I didn’t object; I didn’t want to look at him while he explained his whole weirdness and over-protectiveness to me. I knew that was what this was about.

  “I have a legal and fiduciary responsibility to this business we call Sinclair Stables,” he started. “You were injured a little more than a week ago, and it was significant. As your employer, I have a responsibility to make sure that your working environment is safe and relatively risk-free. There is a matter of liability involved. Apart from that,” he continued, “I can’t get you out of my mind for whatever reason. I guess this overwhelming concern that I have for your safety has been causing me to behave in a sort of over-protective way.”

  “You think?" I questioned.

  He grinned, dimpling me. “I know it seems I'm off the charts. Just try and stay on my good side, okay?"

  “And why's that important?” I countered.

  “Being on my good side has all kinds of rewards.”

  “Show me,” I dared.

  Did I really just say that?

  I felt myself blush.

  He pulled me into his lap. “I’ve missed you for some reason," he replied. "God knows why that is, but I feel this urge to make sure you're kept safe . . . and near. I can't explain it, but it's there."

  "Is that bad?" I whispered, looking up into his sexy blue eyes.

  "It's distracting for me," he replied, which told me nothing. All I knew was that whenever he was near, my heart beat faster and my stomach felt queasy and his looks drove me to distraction.

  I could hear my mom’s mocking voice. It was as if she was in the room with us daring me to make the first move; taunting me to let him know what I wanted and then telling me I'd never be anything to him but a rich man's whore.

  “Trey,” I whispered hoarsely. "Can we make love?"

  Chapter 11

  What in the world had possessed me to utter those words to him? Out of the blue? How freaking idiotic can one person be?

  “Tylar,” he said softly, “look at me.”

  I didn’t want to. If I did, I knew that he would see what I already knew. I was a mess, incapable of being what he wanted, or what any man would ever want for that matter. I was damaged goods, but still a virgin. How'd that happen?

  “Look at me,” he said more firmly this time.

  I was still on his lap. I'd buried my head against his chest
when more than thirty seconds had passed after the invitation for Trey to make love to me had gone unanswered. I reluctantly raised my head from his chest, wiping the tears that had welled up. I looked at him. He gently brushed my cheek with his hand.

  “Do you want to tell me what’s going on with you?” he asked softly.

  “I really don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Please forget what I just said. I can’t understand what made me behave like that with you,” I murmured, feeling my face flush with embarrassment.

  “I see,” he replied. “Well I’m not a virgin, Tylar, so I’m not insulted by your proposition, just caught off guard by your bluntness, I suppose.”

  “I’ve never said that sort of thing to anyone before,” I admitted sheepishly.

  “I guessed that,” he replied with a slight smile.

  "Can I ask you a personal question?"

  "Ask away. If it's none of your business, I'll let you know."

  "Are you and Charlotte . . . involved?"

  "Why would you ask that?"

  "Well, I mean, she was with you the night of my . . . accident. She blew your phone up the next day. I'm just curious, that's all."

  "We are not involved, though I have a feeling that's not the question you really wanted to ask," he replied, quirking a brow.

  Damn.

  “Didn't mean to get too personal," I replied, shifting away from him. "How about we forget any of this happened? The truth is I’ve really not been myself since the accident in the pool, not to make an excuse for my behavior.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, considering whether I was genuinely contrite, or simply trying to save face since it was obvious he’d declined my brazen request.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he said smoothly, “why don’t we both forget it, just for now?” He smoothed my ponytail, gently tugging on it a couple of times, kissing my forehead. “Okay?”

  I nodded. I appreciated that he'd left me with some pride. And the feel of his lips on my forehead and sent the butterflies into swarm-mode.

  “Now, why don’t you get ready for bed? I’ll stay out here and watch television until you’re ready.”

  Once bathed and dressed in my pajamas, I went from the bathroom into the bedroom, turning on the window A/C to cool the room. I'd made my bed up with fresh sheets from the laundry before I left for the race. As I folded the quilt back my stomach lurched—there was no doubt that someone had been in my cottage. I screamed.

  Trey was instantly by my side. “What is it?” he demanded, spinning me around to face him.

  “On the bed,” I choked, pointing.

  He turned to look and picked up the two blue velvet boxes, opening one that contained a pair of pearl drop earrings, and the other one that held a gold necklace with a single tear-drop pearl pendant.

  “I don’t understand,” he turned to look at me, a puzzled expression on his face. “This jewelry's not yours?”

  I shook my head, but my response didn’t match. “They were mine,” I explained. “I lost them a long time ago."

  His brow furrowed in confusion. Of course it would.

  “I wore them to my senior prom the night Daniel…" I couldn't finish the thought as the memory of that horrible hospital dream came back to me. I noticed Trey’s head snap up when I mentioned Daniel’s name.

  “I don’t remember a lot about that night because I got drunk and kind of passed out. I never saw the necklace or earrings after that. I was afraid to tell Mom that I'd lost them. These are even the same velvet boxes she had them in when she gave them to me.”

  “This makes no sense to me,” Trey said. “I mean I understand about prom parties, getting drunk, and losing things, but are you sure that these might not have been stowed away? Maybe in that trunk over there that’s hanging open?” He pointed to the trunk I'd sorted through earlier for my riding clothes.

  “Well even if that were true,” I argued, “how would they have ended up under the quilt and not just on top of the bed? Trust me I know these were not in the trunk.” I grew more upset.

  Trey sat down on my bed and pulled me down next to him. “Tylar are you absolutely sure that there is no other way the jewelry could have gotten in your cottage than by someone other than you?” his eyes searched mine.

  “I can’t be sure of anything these days. I feel like I'm going crazy. It scares me.” In two seconds I was enfolded in his strong arms, feeling his warmth around me, keeping me safe. “Would you please stay here tonight?”

  “I will,” he replied, rubbing my back.

  Relief flooded over me. I knew that I could sleep if he was nearby. He continued, “Tomorrow morning I'm having the locks on your cottage re-keyed.”

  He'd get no argument from me on that score.

  “I'll just crash on your couch,” he said,.

  I sighed. “Good night then,” I said to him. “There are blankets and an extra pillow in the closet.”

  He pulled the bedding down from the top shelf, turned out my overhead light, and closed the door softly behind him. I heard the low voices from the television and Trey trying to settle in on the couch for the night. He wasn’t going to be too comfortable on that couch, I realized. It was made for a shorter person. A smile formed on my lips as I drifted off to sleep.

  A thunderstorm blew in during the night. I heard the loud clapping of thunder, and heavy rain pelting the cottage from all directions. It appeared that the electricity had gone out because my A/C unit sat silent and my digital alarm clock was dark. I could only see flashes of lightning outside the bedroom window. Loud thunderous clapping followed within seconds of each flash.

  I was scared and I wasn't sure why. Thunderstorms had never been a particular fear of mine before. I crawled tentatively out from beneath my covers, trying to adjust my eyes to the dark. The only light to guide me was the sporadic flash of lightning that came through the bedroom window. It was enough. I was going out into the living room to climb on that couch with Trey. I didn’t give a damn how much he protested. I did not want to be alone during this storm. I needed his strong arms around me. The next flash of lightning guided me toward the door.

  I felt my way through the kitchenette, groping cautiously into the living room. Another flash of lightning served to illuminate the room. The couch was empty. No blanket, no pillow, no Trey. What the hell? I hurried to open the front door. I peered out from behind the screen door to see if perhaps he was out on my porch. Nothing there either.

  The storm was raging full force. Maybe he had been called down to the barn for some type of an emergency. Maybe something was going on with one of the horses. I needed to find him.

  I managed to make it to the horse bar, though I was thoroughly drenched. My nightgown clung to my body. I shivered as I pulled the heavy door open and entered the stable. Once inside, I frantically looked around as rivulets of water dripped from my hair onto my face. The stalls were empty. The doors to the stable were closed. There was no way they could have left the barn with the doors shut, unless someone had deliberately let them out. My God, was Trey out there now, trying to get them rounded up and back into the barn?

  I raced down the aisle, my soaked flip-flops squeaking with every step. Every stall was empty. This had to have been done on purpose. There was no other possible explanation. Just then I heard a noise from behind me. It was Trey. He was completely dry; I wasn’t sure how he'd managed to stay dry in this torrential storm.

  “Tylar,” he said angrily, “what are you doing out in this storm? Look at you, you're soaked.” He grabbed one of the horse blankets that hung outside a stall. He handed it to me, instructing me to start drying myself off while he went to get more. He was back in an instant with several more blankets. He laid one out on a pile of straw over in the corner by the door to the tack room.

  “Here,” he coaxed softly, “come over here where it's more comfortable.” I did as he instructed. "We have to get you out of these wet clothes. You'll catch your death of cold.”

  He left no room for argu
ment, peeling my silk nightgown off of me, followed by my panties. He gave me a blanket to wrap myself in. I felt warm and safe once again.

  “How is it you’re not even wet?” I asked him, but he didn't answer. He just continued to rub the blanket against my skin to get my entire body dry and warm. Finally my shivering stopped. I stretched out on the blanketed straw. He gazed down at me with those gorgeous sapphire eyes. I was dry, warm, and safe with Trey. I discarded the blanket that had been wrapped around me. I wanted Trey to see me as I was. His eyes perused every inch of my body. I saw the hunger in his eyes.

  Suddenly he stopped. “We can’t do this, Ty,” he said abruptly. I'd never heard him call me Ty before.

  “Why not?”

  “I belong to someone else." he said, walking away.

  I was consumed with humiliation and shame. I was suddenly alone, sitting on a blanket, totally naked and rejected. I stood up and wrapped the blanket around my body like a bath towel. I found my soaked flip-flops and slipped them on. Rain or not, I was going back to my cottage and, darkness or not, I was leaving this place.

  I stumbled past the door to the tack room. There was a small window in the door, and I could see that Trey wasn't alone. Did I want to know who was in there with him? Did I want to know who he'd left my cottage to meet? I barreled through the door. Trey looked back at me then turned his attention back to the woman standing there in front of him. It was my mother! She looked over at me and smiled. “Hey baby girl.”

  “Mom!” I shrieked, horrified. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well now what do you think, baby girl?” she purred.

  Mom looked at me as Trey stepped in front of her. She had the necklace and pearl drop earrings on. They were in this together! She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his handsome face down to hers. She kissed him long and passionately.

  “No!” I screamed. “Can’t you see what she's doing? Why are you letting her use you to hurt me? I can do those things - I can be what she is!”