by ANDREA SMITH
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 I sure as hell don’t.”
He caught the silks; his eyes not moving from mine. I turned and ran to the jockey’s lounge grateful it was empty. Once inside, tears flooded down my cheeks.
In a blur, I got out of my gear, shoving it all into my backpack and slamming the locker shut. I went to the sink and splashed cold water on my face to get rid of the tear streaks. I finally took a deep, calming breath and decided I could make my exit. I made my way to the back door of the paddock area, wanting to avoid running into anyone around the track. I could tell that the race was over and I didn’t give a shit who won. This was all over for me.
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. I didn’t recall having left a light on. Ascending my porch steps, 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 that I'd locked it when I left earlier. I was afraid to go inside. Fumbling 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 and no one was lurking inside that I could see. Maybe to be on the safe side, I should go around the side of the cottage and 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.
“What are you doing here?” I gasped. He'd just scared the be-Jesus out of me.
“I just wanted to see you,” he answered softly.
“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 did not 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 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 with french cuffs, 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 knew my eyes were red and my face was splotchy from crying. 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.”
Huh? What kind of a half-ass apology is that?
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.
Okay, this is not sounding romantic whatsoever.
“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.”
Objection: Confusion of issues!
“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.”
“So why did you scratch me from the race?” I questioned.
He shifted me around a little, so that I was forced to look at his gorgeous face. “Out of concern. What if you'd fallen or been thrown? Jockey helmets offer very little protection. Please agree to pacify me when I make these requests that are only meant to keep you safe. It won’t be forever, I promise.”
“Okay, so what do I get in return?” I asked, smiling devilishly.
He grinned, dimpling me. “Hmm, let me think about that…how about you stay on my good side?”
“And why is that important?” I countered.
“Oh Ms. Preston, or is it T.J.?” he grinned, “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; God I remembered how that had felt to have his arms around me the night at the pull. This was better. He rested his chin on the top of my head.
“I’ve missed you for some reason," he replied. "God knows why that is with your being so damn stubborn and willful most of the time. You make me crazy, you know that right?"
"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, “will you fuck me?”
CHAPTER 11
The words were out of my mouth before I realized how vulgar I sounded. It was something that Jenna would have said; it's something that my mother had likely said many times. It seemed like an eternity since I'd asked the question and had yet to receive a response. Perhaps if I continued to mull around these various scenarios I could avoid the obvious, which was that Trey had not responded to my request. I was afraid to look at him. I was now totally humiliated, embarrassed, and ashamed of myself.
“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 30 seconds had passed after the invitation for Trey to fuck 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, Trey,” I answered honestly. “Please forget what I just said. I know how trashy that sounded, and I can’t understand what made me behave like this with you,” I sniffled.
“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 hoped that meant that he'd not found the notion totally distasteful. “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 kind of a personal question, Trey?”
“Ask away, if it’s none of your business I'll let you know."
“Has any other girl—I mean woman—ever been, uh, that blunt with you before?”
“Not in my recent memory,” he admitted chuckling.
Oh that was good; that was the lawyer coming out. Leave room for the possibility it may have happened, there just wasn’t any current recollection. I had another, even more personal question but wasn’t sure how to approach this one.
“Can I ask you another personal question, Trey?”
“Yep but same rules apply."
“Are you and Charlotte, I mean, well, are you…intimate?”
“Why would you even ask a question like that?”
“I know, it’s way personal…all you have to say is that it’s none of my business like we agreed,” I said, blushing.
“No,” he laughed good-naturedly, and continued, “Why would you think I'd want to make love with Charlotte?”
I smiled to myself.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I replied. “Trey, could 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, his sweet kiss on my forehead made me tingle and I so appreciated that he'd left me with some pride.
“Now why don’t you scoot off to bathe and get ready for bed? I’ll stay out here and watch television until you’re ready. I want to make sure that you're safely put to bed and no monsters are lingering in the shadows, okay?”
I started to protest, but he held up his hand to stifle any response I was considering. “Ah,” he cautioned, “Just humor me, I want to be sure you’re okay. And maybe you want to wear the outfit Jenna gave you when you come out of the shower?” he winked.
He could be so playful at times and I liked it. I felt safer with Trey in the cottage while I showered. I knew that I'd not left my cottage unlocked or interior lights on when I left for the racetrack. I realized that a couple of people had probably been in and out the last week while I was in the hospital getting this or that for me. I wondered how many extra keys to this cottage were floating around.
Once bathed, I toweled off and put on the nightie Trey had given me. A fair compromise, I figured. 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 Tylar?” 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. “My mom gave them to me the night of my high school prom. She said that they had been the only gifts that my dad had ever given her. She said she wanted me to have them.”
“Go on,” Trey encouraged.
“I wore them that night to the prom with my boyfriend, Daniel.” 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. Daniel took me home and carried me into my house. I never saw the necklace or earrings after that. I was afraid to tell Mom that I'd lost them at least that's what I thought had happened up until now. 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. I knew that he wanted to provide a reasonable explanation for the appearance of the jewelry boxes from my past. He wanted me to consider all of the possibilities. I knew that there was only one. “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, Trey. 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. “Trey?” I asked shakily. “Will you please stay here tonight?”
“You know that I will Tylar.”
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. Trey put me into bed, tucking me inside the covers, and gave me a peck on the cheek. That wasn't going to get it for me.
“Trey,” I looked up at him, smiling meekly, “aren’t you coming to bed too?” He looked uncomfortable. Perhaps he thought I was being forward again.
“Tylar,” he replied earnestly, “It'd be better if I crashed out on your couch.”
Oh, I got it. He felt pressured because of what I'd said earlier. He didn’t trust me.
“Good night,” 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. I felt around for my bathrobe that had been lying across the bed. I found it and shrugged it on. 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.
I noticed that the other cottages still had electricity. I could see their porch lights illuminated. Where had Trey gone? Why had he left me alone in this darkened cottage? I wasn't going to stay in this cottage by myself, not with this storm raging all around me. I tied my robe tighter with the belt, and felt for my flip flops just inside the door. I slipped them on and went out onto the porch.
The storm was raging full force. I knew it wasn't safe to be outside in an electrical storm. I couldn't figure out why all the other cottages had power except for mine. I had a sick feeling that my power lines had been cut. Who would do that? I could see down over the hill to the horse barn. It was fairly well lit. Maybe Trey'd 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 ran from the porch into the pelting wind and rain. Lightning still flashed all around me. The thunder was deafening to my ears. I struggled against the wet wind to reach the barn. I knew I'd find an answer to all of this once I got to the barn. It seemed to be taking forever to get there. My flip-flops were soaking up the water from puddles like two sponges. My feet felt heavy now. Some of the puddles held water that was ankle deep. How long had it been storming? There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky earlier. I remembered the stars being out when I'd returned from the track. Things could change in a moment’s notice. Nothing was predictable. I needed to find Trey. Something had to be terribly wrong.