Horse Play (Horse Play Series Book 1)

by A. D. Ryan

  Horse Play

  Copyright © 2016 A.D. Ryan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical terms, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Ryan, A.D.

  Horse Play / A.D. Ryan

  (Horse Play Series ; 01)

  ISBN 978-1517002466

  Text and Cover design by Angela Schmuhl

  Cover Image: Shutterstock, © Kiuikson

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Readers, the ones who stuck with me back when some of my stuff was posted online in it’s roughest form and those who’ve just joined me on this crazy life journey: you mean the world to me. Seriously. None of this would be happening if you weren’t all behind me, supporting me and pushing me to be better. Thank you.

  For Ryan and my kids, you all have been so incredibly patient and tolerant while I pursue this crazy little dream I have. Boys, Mama promises to write you a story one day soon. You’re both so understanding when I tell you I can’t read one of my books to you, so I promise you that one day, you’ll have your very own book that we can read together. I love you, I love you, I love you. *kisses*

  Brothers, sisters, Mom, and Dads … your love and support mean the world to me. You were my first cheerleaders, and you gave me the confidence I needed to pursue something I love doing. Thank you for always being interested and for never holding me back.

  My bestie, you’ve been there for me since I posted my first story online (remember that hot mess?). Thank you for holding my hand through the stressful times, and high-fiving me through the happy ones.

  Tiff who fell in love with this story when she first read it YEARS ago, I appreciate all that you do, even if we don’t talk often. It’s actually incredible that we can go weeks and months between emails and messages and it feels like no time at all has passed!

  I’m adding a new name to my roster with this novel: Marla. Thank you for taking a chance on an unknown wannabe author and helping everything make sense. I’d heard nothing but good things about your editing services, and I’m so glad you were able to fit me in!

  And finally, to the pre-readers and my street team; you are all so incredible. I have this very real problem with anxiety, so the idea with sharing something as dear to me as the characters I’ve created is almost crippling. You’ve all been so lovely, accepting not only my personal brand of crazy, but for loving my characters as much—if not more than—I do.

  Thank you all. So much.

  Chapter 1. Upside Down

  Birds chirped in the tree outside my open bedroom window, and a cool morning breeze wafted in and tickled my feet. At some point in the night, I must have kicked them free from my duvet. One at a time, I opened my eyes, looking around my room groggily. My clothes from the day before were draped over the edge of my hamper, my laptop was half-open on my desk, and my curtains were open wide, allowing the early morning sun to filter in.

  My house was eerily quiet, and I lay in bed staring at nothing in particular as I tried to find the energy to roll out of bed. The sun was shining in through my window, and it made me giddy for today’s training since I was likely going to be able to ride outside. Suddenly, it occurred to me that it was far too bright to be before six in the morning—which was when my alarm clock was supposed to go off.

  Looking to my right, I noticed it was almost seven. I bolted upright and ran over to grab my jeans from yesterday and a fresh shirt. After quickly pulling them on, I ran to the bathroom where I brushed my teeth and pulled my long blond hair up into a haphazard ponytail before heading for the door. I slipped my paddock boots on, quickly lacing them, and then rushed out of the house.

  As I ran all the way down my front walkway, I prayed that my father wouldn’t be too upset with my tardiness. I threw the front gate open and looked over at my dad’s house on the right. No one was home, which meant he was already at the barn.

  “Shit!” I cursed breathlessly as I picked up the pace in an effort to make up for lost time. When I reached the large barn, I was gasping for air, and the sound of my boots hitting the pavement between the stalls startled several of the horses that had been tethered there for the morning lessons.

  “Madi?” a familiar voice called out.

  I looked up and saw Thomas Young, my dad’s life-long friend and our lead horse trainer. He pushed his black hair off his dark skin as he walked beside the small chestnut mare and toward me. He was smiling wide, his dark eyes not holding even a glimmer of annoyance toward me, while I tried to regulate my breathing.

  “Oh,” I wheezed, looking up at him. “Hey, Tom. Have you … seen my dad?” My chest felt tight and hot as I continued to suck in breath after excruciating breath.

  “Not since he helped me muck out the stalls,” he replied.

  I shot Tom an apologetic look. “Damn it. I’m so sorry. I overslept. I should have been here. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

  Tom smiled. “Nah, don’t even worry about it. It’s what I get paid for, right?”

  I shrugged and patted him on the shoulder before I went off in search of my father. “I guess. Listen, I need to go find my dad and see just how much trouble I’m in, all right?”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much,” Tom assured me. “He didn’t seem too upset.”

  I narrowed my eyes teasingly. “See, it’s that “too upset” that has me nervous.”

  Tom laughed loudly. “Come on, Madison. You’re a grown woman. How much trouble could he possibly give you?”

  He had a point, but I also knew that my dad had a habit of keeping our personal relationship out of our business one. “He’s my boss, Tom. A lot.” I had just turned to go check the paddocks for my father when an old Harley drove past the barn door. The engine was loud, alarming some of the horses that were grazing nearby. The driver wore a helmet and sunglasses, so I couldn’t make out his face as he sped around the far corner of the barn, disappearing from sight.

  I didn’t give much thought to the vehicle as I went off in search of my dad. They probably just got turned around and would be heading back out to the highway soon enough. As I neared the closest paddock to the barn, I could clearly make out my father’s shape standing in the center with a large Thoroughbred mare I’d recognize anywhere. Picking up the pace, I made it to the metal fence and slipped between the bars.

  “Hey Dad,” I greeted nervously as I watched him kneel down next to Halley’s right foreleg. His blond hair, a shade darker than my own and sprinkled with gray, shimmered in the sun as he turned and acknowledged me with a nod. His dark brown eyes were warm, and I didn’t sense any irritation behind his expression. It was a relief.

  “Hey kiddo,” he replied as he ran his hand down the length of Halley’s shin. “Swelling’s gone down. The vet says she might be ready for some light training.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t believe it. About two months ago, Halley and I had been working on going over some higher rails in preparation of the upcoming show season, and she had landed wrong after the jump, pulling the tendons in her leg.

  Standing up, he brushed the dust from his jeans and faced me. At a slim five-foot-ten, Wayne Landry wasn’t overly intimidating. He was a sweet man who’d made a living helping abused and injured animals. We specialized in mostly horses, but we’d had a few dogs over the years that we’d also nursed b
ack to health.

  Dad patted Halley’s neck. “Hear that, girl?” he asked her softly, moving around to face her. “You up to it?”

  As if understanding what he was saying, Halley nudged her nose into his chest, sending him back a step. With a light laugh, he turned to me and handed me Halley’s red lead. “Take it easy on her.”

  “I will,” I promised him excitedly as I rushed forward and ran my hand up the white blaze that adorned Halley’s black face before scratching between her ears. She leaned her head into it greedily.

  My father turned to walk away, and I started to follow him when he stopped abruptly in his tracks and turned to face me. “And let’s be clear, you’re not off the hook for being late this morning.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I must have forgotten to set my alarm clock,” I told him honestly. “It won’t happen again.” I hoped I was able to assure him that I wasn’t going to make a habit of what happened.

  Landry’s Equine Rescue and Rehabilitation Facility had been a successful business just outside of Savannah, Tennessee for over forty years, when my grandfather started it. Dad had been running the family business for the last two years since my grandfather passed away. He had always helped Grandpa out when he wasn’t teaching, but he never really felt that the ranch was his calling. Not until the ranch was left to him in the will. After going over the paperwork with the accountant, Dad realized just how lucrative this place was. It was a lot of work day-in and day-out, but with my offer to help him out, he decided to give it a go … for his dad.

  Ever since I could remember, I loved coming out here on the weekends and riding. Grandpa had given me my first horse; a thirteen-year-old gelding named Oscar that he’d bought at an auction. When I got a bit older, I would learn that Oscar was to be sent to slaughter because he was older and wasn’t a purebred. No one saw any value in him. But I did. Oscar was great, but as I grew over the years and became a more experienced rider, I found that he just didn’t challenge me as much as he once did. I told Grandpa that I wanted him to be used as a beginner lesson horse in his final years, because I couldn’t bear to see him leave the ranch he’d grown to know as home.

  In addition to rescuing unwanted animals, my grandfather also recognized good bloodlines in his horses when he saw them, so he chose to breed them. So, seven years ago, when I turned eighteen, my grandfather let me have first pick of the foals being born that year. It didn’t take me as long as I thought it would to find her, either. When I saw her running around after her mother in the paddock, her black coat warmed by the sun, I knew I had to have her. She had a thin blaze that started as a point in the middle of her forehead and got progressively wider as it trailed down at an angle, ending in a huge burst of white over the entire right side of her muzzle. It looked like a comet shooting through the night sky against the color of her coat. I’d always been fascinated with astrology, so when Grandpa asked me what I wanted to name her, I knew immediately that Halley’s Comet was most fitting.

  He worked with me as often as I was able to make it out, without disrupting my college course load, until she was trained. I finished my four years of college, majoring in Business so I could one-day help run the ranch. It had been my dream for as long as I could remember.

  While there was always a time and place in my life for a good old western saddle, I’d always been a fan of English riding. With that in mind, that was primarily how I started training my new horse. Within her first two years, Halley was green-broke and fairly trustworthy, but she still needed a lot of ground work before I could even think of jumping her.

  By the time Halley and I had taken our first jump together, my grandfather had fallen ill, and he passed away one month later. In the two years since his death, I had been working with Tom, who had been the ranch’s head trainer for the last twenty years, and had once upon a time, competed on a professional level. He even helped me line up a sponsor a couple years ago, and I’d toured some of the pro competitions up until Halley got hurt.

  My grandfather’s absence wasn’t forgotten, though. I was surrounded with his legacy. Hell, I lived in his three-bedroom house on the grounds while my father lived in the smaller guest cottage next door. Dad said he had no use for the main house and that I should have it. He said Grandpa would have wanted it that way. I had always been close with my grandparents, but working with him and Halley several times a week definitely brought us even closer. His death wasn’t just devastating to my father, but to me as well.

  I walked with a hop in my step a few paces behind my dad with Halley at my side, her limp completely gone. As I went to lead her into the barn, I noticed my father lift an arm and wave to a man standing next to the Harley I had seen earlier. I had to wonder how Dad knew him and why he was here. Even from far away, I couldn’t help but admire the stranger. The way the sunlight made his brown hair glimmer in the sun, the strong angles to his jaw, not to mention his tall, muscular build …

  Get a grip, Madison! He’s probably just stopping for directions. Not to mention, you’ve sworn off men, remember? Dane only just moved out a few weeks ago …

  “You mean since I kicked him out,” I corrected myself out loud as I continued on my way into the barn to tether Halley. When I entered the locker room to grab my brushes and tack, I found Tom coming out of the viewing gallery on the other side.

  “Hey, Madison. Did you find your dad?” he asked as he approached me to help me hoist my saddle out of the top locker.

  I stepped back, tucking my blond hair behind my ear, and allowed him to carry it for me. “Oh, yeah. Everything is good. He said I could ride Halley today.”

  He smirked. “Explains the gear.” We walked together until we reached Halley, and Tom set the saddle on the blanket rack outside her stall door. “Can I do anything else for you? Your dad said I should ask before I head to the feed store to pick up more grain.”

  “Uh,” I said, dragging the word out as I thought of anything else that needed to be done. “Nope. Go ahead. I’ll take care of anything that comes up.”

  “Cool. I’m going to take the truck, if that’s all right?”

  I nodded as I grabbed my curry comb to begin grooming Halley. “That’s what it’s there for. Though, it’s been acting up, so just watch out for it, okay?”

  “Has it?” Tom asked, sounding a little stunned. He was the one who kept the old thing running, and he was a pretty decent mechanic. “I’ll take a look at it when I get back.”

  Tom left us then, and I stood with Halley in the empty barn. “Good ol’ Tom, hey, Hails?” I cooed to her as I ran the rubber comb over her body in circular motions. Her skin flicked beneath the comb, and she shook her head, rattling the halter.

  Once I had finished with the first comb, I reached down into my tattered box for the hard-bristled brush and began flicking away the dust I had stirred up with the first. Halley’s posture relaxed and she rested her left hind leg as I continued to work. Grooming Halley was something I did every day. It was something that both of us truly enjoyed. I brought out the last brush. It was full of super-soft bristles and really made her shine. When I finished with her body, I moved to her face and laughed softly when I saw her eyes looking rather sleepy. She perked right up when I dropped the brush in the box and reached for her saddle pad.

  Halley’s eyes widened as I walked back to her left side and slid the pad into place; she seemed to be just as excited about our long-overdue ride as I was. I then grabbed the sleek, black leather saddle and placed it on her back, dropping the girth over to her right side so I could grab it beneath her and fasten it.

  Once it was on tight enough, I put a set of therapeutic boots on her. We’d bought them for her after the accident in hopes they’d help with her recovery. They were supposed to absorb some of the pressure and keep her from injuring herself any further. The vet highly recommended them if we ever wanted to use her as anything more than a broodmare in the future. When I reached for her bridle, I found myself growing more excited; it had been two long mon
ths since I had ridden her. I had been helping Tom train the other horses we had, but it just wasn’t the same. They weren’t mine … well, I guess technically they were. It was just different.

  With the bridle on, I untethered Halley and took her to our outdoor arena. Chances were, Jillian was teaching a morning class inside anyway, and I wanted to take advantage of the gorgeous weather.

  Once inside the arena, I closed the gate and mounted her. I sank into the supple leather saddle, and with a sigh, I was home. We walked around the arena for fifteen minutes to warm her up, and I counted the perfectly spaced beats of her gait. One. Two. Three. Four. She wasn’t favoring her leg, so I decided we would pick up into a trot. One. Two. One. Two. I rose on every other beat, and Halley flipped her head slightly and snorted with delight. When I felt she was ready, I nudged her forward into a steady lope.

  As we cantered around the arena, I kept my seat in the saddle, keeping her going by pushing forward. When we hit the corner, I turned her so we could change direction. Her flying lead-change was seamless and she instantly flipped to the opposite lead. We moved smoothly around the low cross-rail that had been set up for last night’s beginner jumper class and continued on.

  We made a few more laps around the arena, and as we approached the entry, I saw a man with a head of unruly brown hair watching us. I instantly recognized him as the man who had met with Dad a little while ago.

  He leaned over the top rail of the fence, his posture relaxed and his right leg bent so his foot could rest on the bottom rung. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt that showed off his muscular physique. His right arm was tattooed starting at his wrist and disappearing beneath the sleeve of his shirt. I found it extremely sexy—which surprised me since I wasn’t really a fan of tattoos—and I kind of wanted to see more of it.