“And what if we don’t make it that far?”
Easing back in her chair, Rebecca fiddled with the glasses in her hand. “Kid, you’ve gotta have faith. I know you have been kicked in the heart like most of us, but that’s the trick with love. You can’t push it away when it’s offered; otherwise you’ll never truly know how wonderful it can be. Love is a lot like believing in something, God, Allah, whatever. You have to believe before you can find faith, just in the same way you have to believe before you can find love. Don’t become like Selene. She’s a woman who is dead on the inside because she has given up on love. You know your heart; she lost touch with hers a long time ago.”
“Since the divorce, I’ve felt a lot like one of those heartless women. But with Trent….” Rayne let out a long sigh. “It’s like I’m sixteen again, thrilled that the quarterback from the football team has noticed me. But love?” Rayne grimaced. “I don’t know if we will ever get there.”
“We’ll see.” Rebecca slipped on her glasses. “Just make sure next time you two do it in a car in the parking lot away from the horses. I don’t want to have to lie to another ten-year-old.”
Rayne stood from her chair. “What are you talking about?”
“The other person who heard you scream was Kit Watson’s daughter. You know Kit, she owns that big red thoroughbred. Well, her daughter was standing right outside your tack room door looking very confused. She asked me what the two of you were doing in there, so I had to come up with something on the fly.”
Rayne thought of the shocked little girl and felt mortified. “What did you tell her?”
“That he was helping you pull off your boots.”
Rayne stared at Rebecca, her hazel eyes round with astonishment.
“I don’t lie well under pressure.” Rebecca reviewed one of the bills on her desk. “So just take it somewhere else when you two get the urge. I’m not running a brothel.”
“Not for people, anyway,” Rayne joked under her breath.
“Yeah well, horses don’t scream when they have their refreshers.”
Rayne narrowed her eyes on the round, middle-aged woman with the bleached blonde hair. “You’re really scary sometimes, Rebecca, you know that?”
“My second husband used to say the same thing, but that was usually after we made love.”
Shaking her head, Rayne went to the office door. “I did not need to hear that.”
“And don’t worry about Selene,” Rebecca offered. “Her bark is worse than her bite.”
Rayne paused at the door, considering her past with Selene. “You don’t think she will try something?”
“Nah.” Rebecca looked up from her bill. “Just worry about keeping that man of yours happy…very happy, if you know what I mean.”
Worry twisted in Rayne’s gut. “Rebecca, do you think I can keep him happy? I didn’t keep Foster happy.”
“He’s not Foster, Rayne.” Rebecca lowered her glasses over her nose. “Foster could never be happy with a woman, because he was never happy with himself. Trent is very different. He’s a better man.”
Exiting the office, Rebecca’s comparison between the two men stuck with Rayne. Was Trent the “better man,” or would she be repeating her past mistakes and setting herself up for even more heartache? She knew Trent was no Foster, but the more Rayne learned of his past, the more she began to doubt their future.
“I just wish I knew if I could trust him,” she muttered, walking back to her tack room. “For once I would like to meet a man who keeps his promises.”
Chapter 10
After donning a casual blue cotton summer dress and pulling her frizzy blonde hair back with a fashionable clip, Rayne got into her gray Highlander and made the short drive to Trent’s house in Lewisville. The upper end subdivision had spacious two and three acre lots with massive, modern-looking mansions. As Rayne maneuvered her car along the winding streets with Victorian lampposts, picturesque babbling brooks, and colorful white, pink, and red crape myrtle trees, she was reminded of something out of a children’s storybook. All that was missing were fairy huts, pixie dust scintillating in the twilight, and gatherings of wispy-winged creatures.
When she found 1722 Hoffsmill Road, as written on the directions he had given her earlier, Rayne parked in front of the sprawling contemporary home and let out a low whistle.
Built on a natural rise, the irregularly shaped, one-story structure had a square entrance with natural wood beams above and on each side of carved double wooden doors. Oversized windows were positioned along the façade in an irregular pattern. Built of thick timber and natural stone, the house blended with the long gardens of small green trees and landscaped shrubbery in front. Rising from the street, a brown-bricked staircase was carved into the bedrock, with glowing lights above each step.
Standing on the recessed porch, Rayne pushed the silver doorbell to the side. Chimes could be heard echoing throughout the home, and as she heard hurried footsteps approach, Rayne held her white clutch bag to her chest and tried to remember to breathe.
“You made it.” Trent opened the front doors. “Did you have any trouble finding it?”
“No, your directions were fine.”
Dressed in blue jeans, a pale yellow button-down shirt, and loafers, his dark hair was still damp and he smelled wonderfully citrusy. After he kissed her cheek, Trent guided her through the doorway.
“Dinner is in the oven, so come in and I’ll give you a tour.”
In a short entrance hall with an elevated ceiling done in alternating shades of chocolate brown and beige, Trent took her purse and put it on a dark Shaker table by the door. Placing his hand behind her back, he escorted her through the hall and into the living room.
“Wow,” Rayne mouthed as surveyed the grand room.
Open in design with the living area, kitchen, and dining section all merging together, the room was made up of walls done in white with a main wall housing a massive stone hearth. Above the hearth was a painting of a herd of horses running across a green field. Scattered about the other walls were smaller paintings, also of horses in various settings. The floors were bamboo, and the furniture simple, modern, and a combination of wood and leather. Wide patio doors along the far wall opened on to a deck with an outdoor fire pit, grill, and black iron furniture. Behind the deck, a five-tiered, step fountain drained into a rectangular pond that was also made of natural stone.
“This is magnificent, Trent.”
“Thanks, I designed it myself. I wanted to be an architect, but changed my major in college when I discovered I could make more in the oil and gas business.”
“You designed this place?” She turned to him. “I have to say I’m more than a little impressed.”
He walked to the open kitchen and settled behind a breakfast bar of stone and cedar. Shiny stainless appliances glistened in the recessed lighting above as he went to a built-in refrigerator and collected a bottle of wine.
“This is the Frascati I told you about. It’s a nice Italian wine that will go great with the chicken Parmesan I’m preparing for dinner.” He then acquired two wineglasses from a rack beneath the natural wood cabinets behind him.
“Where did you learn so much about wine?” Rayne remarked as he placed the glasses in front of her.
“My college sweetheart, Claudia West.” He retrieved a wine opener from a nearby drawer. “Her father owned a vineyard in Hill Country outside of Austin. Clark West taught me all about wine; how to choose the best, and how to pair wine with foods. He was a wizard with wine.” He jabbed the opener in the cork and began twisting it into the bottle.
Rayne took a seat on a wood and leather stool in front of the bar. “Your college sweetheart?”
He popped the cork from the bottle. “We dated from freshman year to our senior year at UT Austin. Then, I met Louise Lyndale. She was an older woman—two years older—beautiful, very smart, and a graduate student in the engineering program. We met in the library and started studying together; one thin
g led to another, and….” He poured the wine into the glasses. “Anyway, I soon learned Claudia had been seeing someone else, too.”
“What happened to Louise?”
“Louise turned into Mary Lynn; Mary Lynn became Lydia; Lydia became Beth. Beth introduced me to….” He handed her a glass of wine. “I should stop before you make a run for the door.”
“You’ve been with a lot of women. I get it.” She knocked back a quick shot of wine.
“Not something I set out to do, Rayne.” He examined the wine in his glass. “I’d always hoped I would be married and settled by now. It just never worked out that way.”
She took another long sip from her glass, imbibing the courage to ask a question that had been bugging her all afternoon. “What about Lisa Shelby? What happened with her?” Rayne watched him over the rim of her drink.
A hint of surprise registered on his face. “How did you know about me and Lisa?”
“The riding community is pretty tight-knit. I’ve heard rumors.”
He put his glass down on the bar. “Nothing much to say. We had some fun, but neither one of us were looking for anything permanent.”
“And is she why you left Shelby Stables?” Rayne could hear the uncertainty in her voice.
“No, I left because I did all I could there. I was ready for a new challenge.” He ran his long fingers along the countertop as if debating his next course of action. “Don’t believe all the gossip you hear, Rayne. If you ever have questions about me, ask. I have nothing to hide.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She downed another swallow of wine, almost finishing her glass.
He came around the bar and took her wineglass. “You don’t trust me. That’s obvious.” He put the glass down on the bar. “But I want you to trust me. I’m not out to hurt you.”
“I know that, Trent, but I guess I’m still smarting from my divorce.”
He placed his arms about her and lifted her from the stool. “What can I do to prove I’m worth your trust?”
Rayne’s hands slid up his thick arms and around his neck. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”
“Yes, I’m sure we can.”
Trent kissed her lips, and instantly her body responded to him. His arms tightened around her as she opened her mouth, tempting him with her tongue. His hands explored her back, and when he grabbed her butt, lifting her from the floor, a thunderbolt of panic seared through her.
“Perhaps we should…eat, first.”
He put her feet down. “Are you nervous?”
“No.” She tried to sound confident. “I just think we should eat before we get…distracted.”
“Distracted? I’m already distracted.” He let her go. “You know we don’t have to sleep together tonight, Rayne. We can wait, if that would make you more comfortable.”
She took a step back from him, rubbing her hands together. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable, Trent. Sex has always been…challenging for me.”
“That will change with me, I promise.” He took her hand. “Let’s not talk anymore about it. I want you to relax and enjoy yourself.”
He led her from the kitchen to the open patio doors. When they stepped outside, the crisp scent of evergreen bushes planted in a garden along the side of the deck hung in the air. The sound of water cascading down the steps of the fountain and into the narrow pond helped to calm Rayne’s nerves; or perhaps it had been the wine she had quickly downed…she wasn’t sure.
“I still can’t believe you designed this house,” she commented, gaping at the varied levels of the deck as they sloped down to a bright blue oval-shaped pool just beyond the rear of the home.
“I was always fascinated with contemporary designs. I had drawn and redrawn this place for years. It took me a while to make enough to build it, but I knew when I did it would be perfect.” He motioned to the house. “It’s got five bedrooms, four full baths, and a three car garage along the back.”
“Why five bedrooms? Seems like a lot for one person.”
“Sometimes my sisters come to stay and bring my nieces and nephew.” He shrugged his wide shoulders. “I hoped one day I might fill the place with my children.”
“You want kids?”
He nodded. “Someday. You?”
Her eyes drifted over the dimly lit gardens about the deck containing juniper and assorted dwarf shrubbery. “Yeah, eventually.”
“Did Foster want children?”
“No.” She breathed in the evening air, remembering her ex. “His first wife, Melissa, miscarried three times. He said that was enough pain for him, and he had no intention of going through it again.”
“Did you ever tell him you wanted kids?”
She shook her head. “I was twenty-three when we married. I had no idea what I wanted. When I hit thirty, I realized I did want children, but by that point in our marriage I knew what I wanted didn’t matter to Foster.”
“Sounds like you should have left long before you did, Rayne.”
“I know, but I was afraid to leave him,” she admitted. “I didn’t want the kind of life I had before we were married, and I couldn’t go back to living with my mother. So, I stayed.”
“What kind of life did you have with your mother? It had to be better than your marriage.”
“My mother is not the easiest person to deal with. Ever since my father died…no, that’s not right.” She ran her hand over the back of her neck. “Ever since I was old enough to understand, I knew my mother was…difficult.” Rayne took a few steps closer to the stone pond next to the deck. “Mom was always very fond of…scotch. Most of my years growing up were spent covering for her drinking. It wasn’t bad when Jaime, my sister, and I were younger, but once adolescence came around and we didn’t need her as much…well, she started drinking a lot more. She would forget to do things, like pick us up at school, cook dinner, and buy groceries. Jaime was always trying to pick up the slack for her; cooking, cleaning, shopping…whatever Mom needed. I spent my time at the stables, and stayed away from her.”
“Where is your mother now?”
Rayne faced him. “She lives in the house my grandparents left her in Highland Park. Most of the social security money she gets she drinks away, and when there’s nothing left to pay the electric bill or buy groceries, she calls me. She used to call a lot more when I was married to Foster. He always sent her money, but since the divorce I can’t afford to, and she gets…angry.”
Trent eased up to her, his stern face half-lit by the outdoor spotlight. “Have you tried to get her help?”
“Yeah, plenty of times.” Rayne’s sarcastic titter hung in the air. “Estelle’s been to just about every rehab program in Dallas, but none of them got her sober for long. She doesn’t want to quit. One day I figure I’ll get that phone call from the police saying she’s hurt or worse. Then I guess I’ll have to put her somewhere.”
“I’m sorry.” Trent placed his arm about her shoulders. “I know that must be hard.”
She stiffened next to him, ashamed that she had burdened him with her problems. “I’m sorry. I’m ruining this nice evening by talking about my mother. I shouldn’t have unloaded all of that on you.”
“You can tell me anything, Rayne.” He pulled her into his arms. “There would be no evening without you.”
His hands rubbed up and down her back, chasing away all of her unhappiness. But his touch also awoke a hunger in Rayne, and as flashes of their earlier encounter in her tack room roared to mind, she took a wary step away from him, waving back to the house.
“I would very much like to see the rest of your place.”
He took her hand. “And I would very much like to show it to you.”
***
After viewing all five bedrooms, including his master suite with skylights above the king-sized bed, and a shower stall wide enough for three people in his white marble master bath, they settled down at a rustic oak dining table. Once sliced homemade rosemary bread, a fresh green salad top
ped with a white wine vinaigrette dressing, and a platter of chicken Parmesan over spaghetti had been placed on the table, Rayne stared at Trent with renewed appreciation.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“I worked as a waiter in a few restaurants to help pay for my riding growing up. I hung out in the kitchens, talked to the chefs, and learned a few things.” Trent loaded a portion of the chicken smothered in red sauce on her square dinner plate. “The first woman I lived with, Erin, hated to cook. I think that was when I got good at it. Had to, otherwise we would have starved.”
Rayne adjusted the white linen napkin in her lap. “How long did you two live together?”
“Four years.” He put a slice of rosemary bread on her side plate. “I met her when I was working for Shell right out of college. She was a geologist.”
Rayne swiped a pat of butter from a dish in the center of the table. “What happened?”
“Erin got a job with BP and transferred back to her native Scotland.”
She buttered her slice of bread. “Did you want her to go?”
“We both knew the relationship was pretty much over.” He seized a pair of silver tongs in the glass bowl loaded with salad greens. “At the time, I was trying to get into consulting work and was gone a lot. I think the last few months we were together we spent more time apart than actually under the same roof.” He added some salad to the bowl by her dinner plate.
“You mentioned you lived with someone else,” she hinted, attempting to sound casual as she reached for her fork.
“Natasha.” He put the salad aside. “She only lived with me for about a year.”
“What did Natasha do?”
“She was a physician at Baylor University Hospital.” Trent grinned. “Very smart, very pretty, and never home.”
Rayne cleaved off a piece of the chicken in red sauce. “She was always working?”
The Riding Master Page 10