by Box Set
Kaylee laughed. “Let me guess, you didn’t realize Emmie was an e-commerce mogul?”
“Not even a little.”
Emmie rolled her eyes, looking modest. “You’ve been too busy to see what I’ve been up to. And anyway, like I said, I haven’t done anything for them yet, I’ve just been doing my research while you’ve been at the stables.”
“Is there anything you can’t do?” I exhaled. “Thank you so much, Emmie.”
“And speaking of you at the stables, once you get with your broody, sexy coach, you won’t give Dave another thought.”
I rolled my eyes, ignoring the fluttering in my stomach. “Are you absolutely one-hundred percent sure you’re good with this?”
“Better than good,” she said, wrapping me into one of her hugs. As she did, the first slow song of the night came on. “In fact, to show you just how good, I think you should dance with him.”
I pulled back away from her. “No.”
“No, really. I’m okay with it. Come on, he’s a good dancer.”
That was supposed to make it better? Panic rose like bile in my throat. “Emmie, no.”
I looked at Kaylee and she gave me a wide-eyed look that probably closely mirrored my own. The one that said, “What the…?”
But Emmie wouldn’t be denied. She grabbed my hand and pulled me back toward the guys. Then, as an afterthought, she turned back and grabbed Kaylee, pulling her along.
It appeared we were both going to get to dance with hot guys.
What is it they say—be careful what you wish for?
Dancing
Despite Kaylee’s desperate whispered protests and my sudden hope that the floor was going to open up and swallow me whole, Emmie succeeded in dragging us over to the guys.
Emmie on a mission was not to be denied.
“You guys,” she said to the boys in her authoritative tone. “We all need dance partners. Dave, you go with Brooklyn, and Phillip, you’re with Kaylee. I’ll dance with Declan. You two…” she pointed at the two guys who had not yet been assigned and then looked around. Chelly was doing just fine on her own on the other side of the gym, circled by a group of guys, but Celia was hovering by the bar, talking with Chelly’s roommate Naomi.
“Over there,” Emmie continued, moving her point toward the girls. “Celia and Naomi.”
As I stood there, basically paralyzed, I watched Phillip step toward Kaylee. She looked nervous but hopeful, and I was suddenly so happy for her.
Until he said, “You’re not going to puke on me again, are you?”
Kaylee’s face collapsed into a mask of despair. Exactly what she was afraid of had just happened, only worse. I looked from her to Emmie hoping she was going to kick the guy in the crotch.
But before either of us had a chance to do anything, one of the boys stepped forward, shouldering Phillip out of the way. “I’ll dance with you,” he said, looking down at Kaylee with a smile that could melt an iceberg. His deep Irish brogue made it that much sexier. Way sexier.
“Declan to the rescue,” Dave said with a chuckle. “Shall we?”
It wasn’t until I watched Kaylee smile and take Declan’s outstretched hand that I realized Dave was talking to me.
“Oh, uh yeah.”
I gave Emmie one last questioning look, but she nodded and waved us out to the dance floor. Losing her dance partner, she stayed where she was, but as I turned away, I saw her start to give Phillip what I’m sure was a few choice words about his behavior. A kick to the balls would have been my preference. Jerk.
“She’s something, isn’t she?” Dave said, bringing my attention back to him.
Right. Dave. “Yeah. She’s a force of nature.”
We stopped together at an arbitrary spot on the floor and I held my breath as his hands came to rest on my hips. He was barely touching me and in a way I’d been touched by boys before, but here and now, with him, it felt so close and very intimate. My heart thumped so hard, I was sure he could hear it.
With my heels on I was able to comfortably lay my arms on his shoulders, but I was careful to keep my distance, knowing Emmie would be watching. And anyway, the further I could stay away from him, the better. It was bad enough I could smell his cologne, a warm masculine scent, the same one from that first day, but stronger, more concentrated. It almost made me feel dizzy and I wondered if there were pheromones or something in it to make him extra attractive. If so, it was totally working.
Not good.
“So,” he began as we started to move to the music, making small circles in the little spot we’d carved out.
“Yeah,” I said. Because I had to say something and ‘yeah’ was the best my brain could do. I looked over his shoulder and watched my friends dancing. Kaylee seemed to be having a good time with Declan, laughing as they turned with the music. He was tall and lean with strawberry blond hair atop his rugged features. And that charming accent...
Dave’s fingers pressed into my hips lightly, bringing my attention back to him.
“So, Emmeline says I’m not supposed to flirt with you.”
I almost swallowed my tongue. “What?” I croaked.
He grinned, that smirky smile that was going to be the death of me.
“She said my flirting is going to get me into trouble.”
My neurons were firing, but not in a way that I could harness them into helping with something to say. I probably looked like a fish out of water, gaping at him.
“What?” he said. The smirk was suddenly gone from his face.
“Going to get you into trouble?” I managed.
He bit his full bottom lip, drawing my attention there, reminding me that Emmie’d gone on and on about him being an amazing kisser. Reminding me that I’d heard them out behind the stables.
“What do you mean?” he said.
It was almost too much. But I couldn’t stop dancing with him. A glance over his shoulder and I could see Emmie watching. Not like she was pissed, but definitely keeping an eye on us.
I couldn’t look anywhere without it being awkward. I suddenly focused on his pocket square, noting that it was kind of an odd color—bright orange against his dark suit. I’d only seen colors like that on groomsmen before. Then my eyes drifted to his chin where the hint of stubble showed. God help me, but it was sexy.
“I can’t believe she made me dance with you,” I muttered, suddenly wishing I was anywhere else. Even the laundry, seven hours into an eight-hour shift. In the middle of summer. With no A/C.
“Am I that horrible?” Dave asked.
I looked up and he was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Nice going, Brooklyn, totally insult the guy. “Ugh, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” I shook my head. “It’s just…we had a misunderstanding. It’s fixed now. Don’t worry about it.”
“What kind of misunderstanding?”
Thankful for the dim lighting that was hopefully covering up the hot blush creeping up my cheeks, I said in as breezy a tone as I could muster, “It’s nothing.”
He paused long enough for me to think he’d dropped it and I began to relax and just enjoy the dance, concentrating on the feel of his hands on my hips, his minty breath mingling with the smell of him, the music we swayed to…
But he wasn’t done. “Wait, Brooklyn…Did you…is that why she…”
“Never mind,” I interrupted, my voice climbing involuntarily toward screechy. “It’s not important.” I looked over his shoulder again, pasting what I hoped was a neutral and non-awkward smile on my face.
“Brooklyn,” he said, his voice quieter. “Did you come here to meet me, thinking I was someone else? Did you not know about me and Em?”
Oh God…Tears pricked at my eyes and my throat closed up. I shook my head and avoided his eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I never meant…”
“Just stop,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
I swallowed and kept looking over his shoulder, determined not to cry.
His hands squeezed at my hips and I almost bolted right then. Only knowing that Emmie was watching kept me dancing with him.
“Brooklyn?” he asked suddenly in a weird voice.
I exhaled and looked at his face.
“Any reason why Fleming is trying to kill me with his eyes right now?”
Brady? Turning, I followed his gaze to the edge of the dance floor where Brady stood in a jacket and tie. He did indeed look like he was trying to kill Dave with his eyes.
Dave looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “You have something going on with him that’s making him act like a very jealous, rutting boar?”
I only had time to swallow and try to come up with something to say before Dave then announced that Brady was on his way over. One song had morphed into another and some couples were trickling off the dance floor. I had a moment to notice Kaylee still dancing with Declan. But my other friends weren’t in my field of vision.
“Brooklyn?” Brady materialized at my side.
“Hi,” I said, not capable of much more.
“Fleming,” Dave said with a nod, his fingers squeezing at my hips again. Not letting go.
“Can I have a turn?” Brady asked, looking at me as though Dave wasn’t even there.
I nodded, removing my hands from Dave’s shoulders. “Thanks,” I said to him, not quite looking him in the eye as I shifted to Brady.
I’d never been more thankful for anything in my entire life as I was for that sudden interruption. I almost even thanked Brady, but bit my tongue; the last thing I wanted to do was explain that awkward situation. To a guy.
He smelled good, too, but completely different than Dave. Brady’s scent was more earthy, less cologne and more of soap and just…guy, though the familiar smells of saddle soap and leather were absent, making me realize I’d never been with him outside the stables.
His hands slid around my waist, higher up than where Dave had held me. I put my arms on his shoulders, but he was taller and I had to clasp my hands around his neck. The back of his hair tickled my fingers. He gently pulled me closer, his large palms spanning my lower back. My breath caught.
“I thought you weren’t coming?” I asked.
He shrugged under my arms, reminding me of his powerful shoulders. “I changed my mind. You look really good, Brooklyn.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks. You clean up pretty nice, too, Coach Fleming.”
He closed his eyes for half a second and exhaled, his dark eyebrows knitting together, like I’d hurt him.
“Brady,” I said.
He opened his eyes and looked at me, his eyes burning into mine. But it was too much, too intense, and I had to look away. But when I looked over his shoulder out at the rest of the crowd, I saw Dave dancing with Emmie.
And he wasn’t looking at her.
He was looking at me.
So Much for that Day Off
“Brooklyn?”
I swung my eyes back to Brady’s face, embarrassed to be caught looking at someone else. “Sorry.”
“I wanted to talk to you about practice.”
“Okay,” I said, biting my lip, waiting for him to tell me he was going to cut me from the team. I’d improved over the week and had shaken off some of the cobwebs from not riding for a couple of years, but was still nowhere near as good as the other girls. There wasn’t much chance I would ever be.
I wondered what Dean Haywood would do if I got cut from the team; would I get sent back to the laundry? It almost sounded like an appealing option. Glancing over at the crowd of faculty standing together near the bar (watching over the punchbowl, Celia had pointed out) I saw the dean looking over the dance floor. It had to be a trick of the sweeping lights, but it seemed like she was looking right at me. I quickly returned my eyes to Brady, shaking my head. “Sorry,” I said again.
“You seem distracted,” he said, giving me one of his signature smirks.
It made my heart do a little flutter. “There’s a lot going on here. Remember, it’s my first dance at here. So much stimulation.”
“Right. Stimulation,” he said, pulling me a little closer. As he did, my arms edged up a bit over his shoulders, my bare skin sliding against his muscular neck. He was warm against me, making gooseflesh rise on my arms, making my breath catch.
His eyes were like pools of liquid amber, intense, deep.
“Brady, I…” I began, but couldn’t finish my sentence. I didn’t even know what to say. The whole experience was scrambling my brain.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
“What?”
“We should practice tomorrow.”
“Oh,” I breathed. It wasn’t what I’d expected him to say, but then again, I wasn’t at all sure what he was thinking.
“You’re coming along really well, but I think you’re still behind. We should keep up with the daily practices.”
I had been looking forward to a day off. My legs and butt were definitely looking forward to a day off, and quite frankly, the heels I was wearing were killing my already stretched and cramped calves.
My eyes filled with tears as I thought about losing my one chance at a rest. Not normally a crier, I was shocked, but figured the exhaustion was catching up with me. Fighting the tears, I took a deep breath and nodded.
“You okay?” he asked. He was so intuitive—something I was sure either came from being around horses so much or maybe was something he was born with that made him such an exceptional rider, though I hadn’t yet had the pleasure of seeing him in action.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m fine. I’m just a bit tired. It’s been a long week and I was sort of looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow.” Many Rosewoods had their CSAs to catch up on over the weekend, but since mine had been fulfilled in the laundry through the week, I’d been granted a day off to do as I pleased. And what I pleased was sleeping in and then spending some quality time in the aquatic center’s whirlpool to ease my overworked body. Also, I had a mountain of homework to catch up on.
Brady smiled. “You can sleep in. I have my own training in the early morning. If you meet me at the stables by eleven, that will give us a solid couple of hours before we have to get out of the way for the afternoon leisure riders.”
I exhaled. “Okay. But as long as you promise me you’re not cutting your training short to help me. I do not want to be the reason Westwood’s favorite Olympian only gets a silver medal.”
He snorted. “I’m not the school’s favorite Olympian.” He nodded toward the group of boys hanging around Chelly. “Jenkins is the star here.”
Surprised that I’d actually met two future Olympians, I asked, “What’s his sport? Not another equestrian?”
Brady shook his head. “No. Diving. If all goes well, we’ll be at the games together, but nowhere near the same sport.”
I thought about them traveling together—it would be nice to have a familiar face during what must be a crazy stressful time. “Are you friends?”
Brady looked away from me, but not at the group of boys. It was like he had to think about his answer before he said, “Not really. I mean, we respect each other as athletes, and he’s top notch in his sport. But friends? No.”
I nodded, feeling awkward for having asked. My eyes drifted down to his suit jacket pocket and noticed something. “Why don’t you have a pocket square?”
“Pardon?”
I looked around the gym. “Most of the other guys have pocket squares. A lot in really bright colors. You don’t have one.”
He looked out at the crowd over my shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m sure it’s something stupid. Anyway,” he said, seemingly eager to change the subject. “About the Olympics. I’ll be lucky to get a silver.”
“Suffering a bout of lagging confidence, Coach Fleming?” I teased.
But his face got serious. “No, not lagging confidence, just being realistic. I’m good…okay, some might say great,” he paused, l
ooking a little embarrassed, which I have to admit was way sexy. “But I’m not gold medal material. I know that, and it’s okay,” he quickly added when I opened my mouth to protest.
“Really, Brooklyn. Not everyone can win, but to move up my ranking or even get a bronze or silver? That would be a dream come true.”
“But shouldn’t you aim for the top?”
He shrugged, making my arms slide against his neck again, a movement I tried to ignore, though futilely. I swallowed, cursing my suddenly dry throat.
“I’m aiming for a personal best. It’d be different if I competed in marathons or a team sport with an obvious opponent on the field with me. But you know as well as I do that equestrian is different; your partner doesn’t care about medals or acclaim or the millions of people watching. If Albatross has a bad day, I’m screwed. But I will hope we have a great day and I make no errors. That we’re in sync and the magic happens. That’s what it’s really about.”
“Your horse’s name is Albatross?” I asked.
He nodded, smiling. “I’ll get to see him soon.”
“Oh?”
“He’ll be here in less than a week. Well, not here, exactly. The stables where I train are about twenty miles from here.”
The smile on his face was so open, genuine, I could tell exactly how he felt about his horse and reuniting with him. “You’ve missed him,” I said.
He nodded. “Very much. The other horses at the training center are excellent, but it’s not the same. The partnership a rider builds with his horse, it’s special, almost…”
He had a dreamy look on his face. “Do not say you’re in love with your horse,” I said.
The corner of his mouth turned up and he squeezed where he was holding my hips. “No, not quite. But you ride, I’m sure you get it.”
I did, but it was fun to tease him. I scrunched up my face. “Yeah, well. Don’t be that guy, Brady. Don’t be the guy who loves his horse too much.”
The smile dissolved from his face as he said, “I won’t, Brooklyn. I promise.” Which sounded like he was responding to something more than my lame joke. He looked at me then, intense like before, his eyes holding mine as he seemed to search my soul. Overwhelmed by it, I broke the gaze, looking over his shoulder, willing my heart to stop pounding.