The Riding Master

by Alexandrea Weis

  “I have a way with horses. They find me…irresistible.”

  So much for seeming genuine, she reflected. “That must be a great comfort to you,” she sharply returned. “Knowing you have such sway over four-legged animals like that. Or were you talking about another kind of animal?”

  His eyebrows went up. “Well, well, not only does your horse have spirit, his rider seems to as well.”

  “Perhaps you are confusing spirit with sarcasm, Mr. Newbury.”

  He grinned at her, folding his thick arms over his chest. “It’s Trent, and I think you’re wrong. You have to have a good bit of spirit and wit in order to be sarcastic. Telling people what you think of them takes a hell of a lot of guts, too.”

  “Guts or stupidity? There’s a difference. One usually gets you into trouble, and the other is needed to get you out of it.”

  Trent’s roaring laughter reverberated throughout the shed row. “Wow, you’re a little fireball, aren’t you?” He unfurled his arms. “Are you always like this? Or is this just for my benefit?”

  Rayne’s patience with the arrogant man had reached a turning point and she longed for their encounter to end. “Nice meeting you, Trent. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

  Trent took a step in front of Rayne, blocking her retreat. “Part of my job as riding master is evaluating the skill of the instructors under me. I would like to take a look at you and your horse together in the ring.” He patted the horse’s thick neck once more, only this time Bob did not seem to mind. “Maybe even watch you take a few jumps with him,” he added.

  An anxious flutter shook Rayne’s hands. “I, um, I’m still doing a lot of flatwork with him. He hasn’t really worked on jumps too much yet. ”

  “How do you expect to be ready for the coming show season?”

  She lowered her eyes to the stable floor, searching for the words to tell him in a polite way to go to hell.

  “Or do you not want to ride for me? Maybe I make you nervous.” He leaned toward her. “I’m told I have that effect on people, too.”

  Her eyes shot to him and the boastful grin that was spreading across his lips made Rayne want to rub his nose in the manure pile behind the barn. She decided to accept his offer, if anything to put him in his place and wipe the cocky smile from his face.

  “How does seven tomorrow morning sound? I could meet you in the back jumping ring and show you what I have done with him so far, before my morning class.”

  His smile fell. “You’re sure?”

  She tugged on Bob’s reins. “Yeah, I’m positive.”

  “Then I will see you at seven,” Trent agreed as his haughty smile returned.

  Without another word she turned and led Bob down the shed row to her tack room. Walking along, she could almost feel the aggravating man’s eyes boring into her back. Realizing what she had done, she chastised herself for letting Trent Newbury get the better of her.

  At her red tack room door, she worked the combination lock as Bob stood calmly behind her, unflustered by any of the events that had just transpired. In a way, Rayne envied her horse’s ability to remain placid in the face of certain disaster. That was the bliss of ignorance as she saw it. Bob did not comprehend the danger of crossing paths with the brash Trent Newbury again. But Rayne knew better, and the rush of heat that had overtaken her when the man had first approached worried her immensely. Such feelings were dangerous for any woman.

  Her ex-husband had elicited the same reaction when they had first met. He had also been playful and seductive, but as Foster Greer worked his way into her life, her feelings for him had swept her goals and dreams aside. Rayne had sworn after her divorce never to let any man wield that kind of control over her again. Reason enough to stay away from Trent Newbury. But she feared that the advice her head was asserting, her body might not be willing to heed. Swallowing back her self-recriminations, she bolstered those protective walls around her heart. No one was going to get in without a fight, and one thing Rayne had always been was a fighter.

  Chapter 2

  The prospect of dealing with Trent had Rayne tossing and turning the entire night. Visions of how the beguiling man would tear her and Bob apart had kept Rayne from getting any sleep. When she finally rose from bed, her body and mind rebelled with exhaustion.

  As she saddled Bob for their early morning meeting, a loud, long yawn escaped her lips, making the horse give her a questioning gaze with his soulful brown eyes.

  “What? You’ve never had a restless night?”

  Bob turned away as if amused with her explanation.

  After checking his girth strap for the fourth time, Rayne figured she had stalled long enough and it was time to head to the jumping ring. Leading Bob from the barn, she mumbled to herself, stiffening her resolve to ignore anything Trent had to say.

  “He’s an arrogant fool. Just don’t listen to a word he says and do exactly what you feel is right.”

  Bob’s ears darted back and forth as he walked beside her, intently listening to her advice.

  “We’re good and getting better every day no matter what he says, right?” she imparted to Bob, but the horse just clopped along, swishing his long black tail.

  Outside in the golden rays of the early morning sun, Rayne mounted Bob’s back and secured the strap on her dark gray riding helmet. Tucking her black riding boots into the stirrups, she took up the slack in the leather reins and guided the horse to the shelled-path behind the barn.

  As she rode to the jumping ring, she breathed in the hint of fall in the air and felt comforted that the retreating heat of summer meant she could spend more time riding Bob. Rayne turned to the dense line of trees and greenery that marked the edge of the stables and the beginning of the rolling miles of trails. She loved taking in the change of seasons on those wide trails. Escaping on her horse into the breathtaking foliage always invigorated Rayne. But her exuberance was short-lived when she remembered that this was going to be her first fall without Foster.

  The image of the attractive older man with thick gray hair, penetrating blue eyes, and a smile that turned every woman’s head still filled her with regret. She found it inconceivable that at thirty-one she had been ousted from her comfortable Highland Park mansion by a bony, blonde girl of twenty-two.

  “Egotistical, self-important, cheating….” Her ex was forgotten when she spotted Trent leaning against the white railing of the ring. He had his muscular arms folded over his dark blue T-shirt, while his magnetic eyes were zeroed in on her.

  She subdued a sudden swirl of nerves by reminding herself that this was just a casual exhibit of skills for a man who was technically her boss. When Bob arrived at the white entrance gate, Trent pushed away from the railing and walked up to the horse.

  “Good morning,” he greeted, sounding chipper.

  His happy mood instantly irked Rayne, who had to stifle yet another yawn.

  “I want to start out by doing some basic flatwork, warm him up a bit, and then see how he does over some high jumps. Let’s see what he’s got.” Trent patted the horse’s round rump, making Bob turn and give the man a “what was that for” glance.

  Rayne glared down at him. “I know what he’s got.”

  Trent’s lips lifted into a sheepish smile. “But I don’t. I want to see him in action.” He pointed to the ring entrance.

  “I’m confused,” Rayne said, holding Bob back. “Are you here to evaluate me or my horse?”

  “Both. You are your horse and he is a reflection of you, and all that you have taught him.” He moved toward the gate. “He will give me a good idea of how you work with your students,” he added over his shoulder.

  “If I had known this was going to be a test….” She gently encouraged Bob forward.

  “You would have what…?” He halted at the gate. “Or perhaps you’re afraid if I don’t like what I see, I’ll fire you.”

  “Rebecca hired me, not you,” she lashed out as she entered the ring on Bob.

  “And Rebecca’s t
he one who hired me to be the riding master around here…which means if I don’t like what I see, I can fire you.”

  She drew back on the reins, stopping Bob just inside the gate. “Riding master means you supervise, not hire and fire. And why are you being such an ass about this?”

  “I’m not the one coming to the ring with a chip on my shoulder. As soon as you rode up, I could tell you were going to give me trouble by the way you slouched in your saddle.”

  She gawked at him while sitting up in her saddle. “Christ, I haven’t even gotten in the ring and you’re already evaluating me.”

  “I’m always evaluating you, bear that in mind.” He waved his hand to the ring. “Take him to the rail and start with a slow, sitting trot. Tighten up your legs against the saddle and straighten your back. It will help your seat. You’re all over the place in that saddle.”

  Rayne’s hands clenched the reins. “Are you always this…bossy?”

  His gray eyes dug into hers. “It’s called teaching, not being bossy. I would have thought you knew the difference.”

  “I didn’t come here for a lesson, Trent.”

  “Well, you’re going to get one. Now take to the rail and start getting him to move out. I want to get a look at his gait.”

  Cursing under her breath, Rayne directed Bob to break into a trot. After making a full circle around the ring, she eyed Trent’s reaction. He was nodding his head and carefully evaluating the horse’s movements.

  “Nice. He’s a real pretty mover.”

  “That’s why I wanted him,” she replied, feeling a ripple of satisfaction.

  “Go to a posting trot,” Trent ordered from the center of the ring.

  Rayne let the tension in the reins out ever so slightly and squeezed a little harder with her legs. Instantly, Bob understood and quickened his pace. Out of the corner of her eye, Rayne observed Trent, and as she did, she explored the way his T-shirt clung to his wide chest, and the hug of his blue jeans to his hips and thighs. For a brief instant, she pictured him without his clothes, and the distracting concept took her by surprise, making her legs slacken against the saddle. Bob slowed, but she caught her misstep and encouraged him onward. She checked to see if Trent had noticed, but, thankfully, his features remained unchanged.

  After twenty minutes of flatwork, with Trent only suggesting some minor changes, Rayne’s nerves began to settle.

  “That’s enough warm up.” Trent motioned to the center of the ring, where two white jumps were set up. “Let’s put him to work.”

  Trent went to the first of the fences and placed two red and white-painted bars over each other in the center of the jump, making an “X.” When he was done, he stood to the side.

  “Take it at a trot.”

  Rayne guided Bob to the fence, and the horse heartily jumped the crossbars.

  “He likes it,” Trent expressed behind her.

  “He loves to jump,” Rayne shouted back.

  Trent went to the fence and raised the cups on each side, increasing the height of the jump.

  Bob easily barreled over the hurdle, making Rayne smile with pride. She had never admitted it to Trent, but she had taken the horse through his paces over fences in the past, wanting to see how high he could go. Bob’s enthusiasm for jumping had been one of the main reasons she had wanted him. In the horse business, if the animal loved to jump, it was a sure sign that he or she would win in the show ring. But blue ribbons had never been Rayne’s motivation for wanting Bob. She had seen something in the calm thoroughbred that she had never experienced before; quick intelligence, and a dignified bearing that reminded her more of a person than a horse.

  As Trent raised the fence higher, Bob’s interest grew. With every jump, Rayne could feel the animal’s powerful body push up beneath her, carrying both of them off the ground. That was what Rayne loved about jumping…the coordination between horse and rider, allowing them to come together as one, appearing as if they were floating on air.

  “He’s impressive,” Trent proclaimed after Bob had cleared another high jump.

  Rayne guided a sweaty Bob to Trent’s side. “The higher you go, the more eager he gets.”

  Trent patted the horse’s frothy neck. “I agree. He seemed to be asleep on the low fences.” Trent examined the horse with a new appreciation in his eyes. “I would like to help you get this guy ready for the first show of the season.”

  “But the first show is at Golden Farms in October,” Rayne anxiously asserted. “That’s only a month away. You don’t think that is too soon?”

  Trent shook his head. “Not if you work him hard.”

  Rayne’s hands fidgeted with the reins. “I haven’t shown in a very long time. I don’t know if I’ll be ready.”

  Trent laughed, smirking up at her. “You’ll be ready. You’re good, Rayne. You can do it.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to show.”

  He appeared surprised. “You’d better show. You’re an instructor at the stables where I’m riding master. You need to be seen in the show ring. If you look good, then I look good, and we will hopefully get more clients because of that.”

  A trickle of anger slithered through her. “Fine. I’ll try not to disappoint you.” She noticed the stainless watch on his wrist. “What time is it?”

  “A little past eight,” he answered, checking his watch.

  Rayne viewed the stables beyond the ring. “I need to get Bob cooled down before my nine o’clock lesson.”

  “Bob?” Trent’s dark eyebrows went up.

  She patted her horse’s neck. “His name is Bob.”

  Trent’s hearty laughter made her insides hum. “You named your horse ‘Bob’?”

  “What is it with the name ‘Bob’? First, Rebecca gives me crap, now you?” She was about to turn Bob’s head away from Trent, but he held on to the reins.

  “Don’t go away mad, Rayne. I meant nothing by it. But you have to admit, Bob is a funny name for a horse. I hope you come up with a better show name than that.” He edged away from Bob’s head and up to her. “Perhaps you could let me think of something for you.”

  Dread coursed through her veins like a formula car on the track at the Indy 500. “Like what? You’re not into names like ‘Prince something’ or ‘Chief whatever.’ They’re so cheesy.”

  “I promise to give it a great deal of consideration, and it won’t be cheesy, I assure you.” Trent led Bob to the gate. “Where did you learn to ride?”

  Rayne studied the man’s muscular back and round butt from atop Bob. “Back in New Orleans at Audubon Stables. It was close to my house. When I was eight, my dad bought my first horse, Jester. He was a tall palomino that was great with kids. I started showing him when I was ten. By the time I was fourteen, I had traded Jasper in for a dark bay jumper named Destiny.”

  “You ever show in Texas?”

  “No, but I did the Louisiana Sugar Circuit. Won two state championships by the time I was seventeen.”

  He glanced up at her. “Where did you ride in college?”

  “Didn’t ride in college. I had to give it up.”

  “Do you mind if I ask why?”

  Rayne paused for a moment, considering how much of her past she really needed to share with the man. Then, the slightest crack in her defenses gave way. “My father and younger sister were killed in a car accident during my senior year of high school. My mother kind of lost it, and I sold my horse soon after. We ended up leaving New Orleans and moving in with my grandparents in Dallas.”

  Trent slowed up, turning to her. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she interrupted, ignoring the concern in his gray eyes. “It was a long time ago.”

  He rested his hand on her boot. “How did you get back into riding?”

  She gently tapped Bob’s sides, uncomfortable with his touch. “My ex, Foster Greer. He wanted me to have a hobby after I gave up my job as a lab technician at his company.” She eyed a figure in the distance dressed all in b
lack coming toward them. “He found Southland Stables and asked Rebecca to let me ride her schooling horses. A few weeks later, she let me train the horses she got in from different racetrack rescue organizations. That’s how I found Bob. Foster got him as a surprise for me but….” She shrugged. “Later I learned that he had just bought the horse to keep me preoccupied.”

  “What makes you say that?” Trent questioned, keeping up with the horse.

  “About a month after he bought Bob, I found him in bed with someone else.”

  Trent let go a low whistle. “So that’s why you’re divorced.”

  “I didn’t see much point to being married after that.”

  “But you were married to a wealthy man—everyone in Dallas has heard of Greer Laboratories—and still opted for divorce. That’s not something you see every day in this town.”

  Rayne jerked Bob to a sudden stop. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  A woman with sleek black hair pinned back in a long ponytail strutted toward them, her slender hips rolling seductively back and forth.

  “I simply meant some women might never have walked away from so much…comfort.” Trent’s eyes turned to see the woman with the pale skin and stunning features drawing closer. “I’ve known more than my fair share of women looking for a meal ticket and not a partner.”

  “Well, get ready,” Rayne told him as she quickly dismounted. “Because you’re about to meet their union representative.”

  “Rayne, darling,” the woman purred, coming alongside of Bob. “Are you still trying to turn that scrawny creature into something resembling a horse?”

  Rayne curbed her anger and just smiled. “What, no hangover this morning, Selene? So glad to see you’re up in time to teach your dressage class for a change.”

  Trent’s eyes volleyed back and forth between the two women.

  “Not to worry,” Selene twittered as she observed Trent’s expression. “Rayne and I always tease with each other. It’s all in fun.” Her black eyes examined Trent with the ferocity of a big cat sizing up its prey. “You must be the new riding master Rebecca talked about.” She held out a manicured hand to him. “I’m Selene Kendrick, your dressage instructor.”