“Yes,” he said, his face deadpan. “But you have to get on the horse first. You can’t be a cowgirl unless you’re actually mounted.”
I smiled and followed him over to the horses. “Wait, are these new?” I asked as I realized I’d never met these horses before. I would have remembered them because they were stunning: one was a black and white paint that looked like a Dalmatian and the other was shiny black. Both were sturdy looking horses with long, beautiful manes and tails and stood quietly, eyeing us as we talked.
“The owners are friends of my mother’s. We’re boarding them here while they’re on vacation.”
“And we’re allowed to ride them?” I asked.
He nodded. “They’ll be happy for the exercise. They’re used to trail-riding; they’re actually really fun.” The paint stamped her foot and exhaled, like she was ready to go. We both laughed.
“You’ve been out already?”
“No. I mean, I’ve ridden them before. Like I said: friends of my mom’s.”
“Okay, which one’s mine?”
I did a mental fist-pump when he gestured to the paint. “This is Caliente. Cali.” He untied her from the fence and looped the reins over her head to rest on the saddle. “You okay riding western?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I started out riding western but liked English better.”
He nodded and gave the horse a pat as he came around to her left side. He offered me a leg up, but I waved him off.
“Hiya, Cali,” I said, giving her neck a scratch and letting her get used to me. She bobbed her head and stamped her foot again. I laughed. “That’s a ‘let’s get moving’ if I’ve ever heard one.”
“Sounds good to me,” he said.
I mounted up and took up the reins, getting settled and leaning forward to give her another scratch between her ears. “And who is this?” I nodded toward the other horse.
“Onyx,” Brady said as he climbed the fence the horse was tied to.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He glanced at me as he untied the reins and arranged them on the saddle. “I don’t want to put too much pressure on my foot. It’s cheating, but the less weight I put on the foot, the better.”
Duh. “Right, sorry. You sure you’re up for this?”
He swung from the fence into the saddle and grabbed the reins as Onyx side-stepped a little. I suddenly wished he had on a cowboy hat because that would make this picture pure perfection.
“Yep. To be honest, I’m glad to be out. I’m going a bit nuts without my training.”
I didn’t say anything to that but clucked and nudged Cali forward so I was beside Brady.
“Shall we?”
~ ♥ ~
I didn’t even know the campus was so big and had assumed he’d just take me around by the back fence where we secretly met the Westwood boys and circle back. But no, it seemed the Rosewood campus stretched pretty far back into the woods, beyond the secret fire pit (which turned out to be not so secret; Brady told me his mom knew all about it, but she’d rather have the fires there in a controlled fire ring than in the middle of the woods. Knowing that kind of made it less exciting, so I decided not to tell my friends, figuring they’d rather not know) to a high fence about a half a mile away. I thought then we’d turn around, but he led me along the fence to a locked gate, not the one that Chelly’d used that led to Westwood, but the other way, out to...I guess nowhere.
“Where does this go?” I asked as Brady leaned way over to fiddle with the padlock.
“More Rosewood property,” he said. “But it’s not secured and obviously it’s best not to have teenage girls running amok out in the woods.”
I laughed. “We only run amok as far as the fire ring or the Westwood gate.”
He pushed the gate open then sat up straight and stared at me. “Why?”
“Why what?”
He shook his head. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter.”
Maybe he was remembering that he wasn’t the only Westwood guy I’d dated. “I mean, not recently or anything,” I said and then looked at him sideways as he edged his horse close enough that our knees touched. “Why, jealous much?”
He leaned toward me and grabbed my chin, guiding my mouth to his. “Not anymore,” he said against my lips. And then he was straightening up, just as I wanted to grab him and pull him closer.
“So,” I said and then cleared my throat. “Where are we going?”
He grinned at me. “Just for a ride. Maybe a picnic.”
“It’s a bit chilly for a picnic,” I said. “And I already ate lunch.” Right, Brooklyn, because this picnic is all about food.
His smile didn’t waver. “I’m not talking a huge spread here. Just some hot chocolate and cookies I swiped from the dining room.”
“Oh. That sounds nice.”
“C’mon,” he said, nodding toward the now open gate. I went through first and waited for him to pull the gate mostly closed behind him. He took the lead on the narrow trail, leaving me to follow behind. While it might have been nice to have been side by side with him, the trail was too narrow through the trees and I couldn’t exactly complain about the view.
We rode for a while and I have to admit, it was very relaxing to just sit on the horse and walk through the woods, no expectations, no one watching my form or seat, no one calling out directions
“This is nice,” I said out loud.
Brady turned his head. “What’s that?”
“This is nice. Relaxing,” I said a bit more loudly.
He nodded, still plodding forward. “We’re almost there.”
So he had a destination in mind. “You come back here a lot?”
“Not really. I don’t normally have a lot of time. Of course, I haven’t been riding much lately, even though I do have the time.”
It was hard talking while we rode single file, so I didn’t bother responding. About five minutes later, he pulled off the trail into a small clearing under a canopy of bushy pine trees where the snow wasn’t as deep.
“Here?” I asked.
He nodded and slipped off Onyx, landing on his good foot. He led the horse over to a tree and tied off the reins before he came over to me. Not that I needed his help, but I secretly liked the chivalry and dismounted practically into his arms.
“Hi,” he said, so close I could feel his warm breath on my face.
“Hi,” I said.
Cali sidestepped and stamped her foot, breaking the spell. I walked her over to where Onyx was and tied her off, while Brady dug around in his saddlebags. As I watched, he pulled out a folded blanket and a thermos.
“Can I help?” I asked, coming up behind him.
He smiled and handed me the blanket, which had plastic on one side so the snow wouldn’t soak through. I took it from him and looked around the clearing for a good spot. There was a big oak tree that was well sheltered among the pines, so I went to the base of it and kicked the snow aside to reveal a layer of leaves and needles. I cleared a good-sized spot and spread out the blanket. Brady came over with his thermos and a paper bag that had some grease spots on it. I knew that meant chewy cookies from the dining room. Perfect.
Together, we sat down on the blanket and I watched him open the thermos and pour some of the steaming hot chocolate into the first cup, which he then handed to me.
“Nice. Your thermos has two cups,” I said.
Unbeknownst to me, apparently that was code for: please kiss me immediately. Because that’s what he did, leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine while I tried not to spill the hot chocolate.
I pulled back before it turned super hot, the kiss, I mean, not the hot chocolate, which was already hot “I don’t want to wear this,” I said, taking a sip, watching him watch my mouth.
“Sorry,” he said.
“I thought you would never be sorry for kissing me,” I said.
“You’re right,” he said, staring at me.
I took another sip of the hot chocolate.
It was warm and rich, but I was hardly feeling cold around Brady. Quite the opposite.
“So,” I said. “I guess this is our first official date.”
He poured himself some of the chocolate and then touched his cup to mine. “To us,” he said.
I nodded. “To us.” We each took a sip.
“This is better than a movie,” I said.
He reached for my hand and twined his fingers through mine. “Agree. I mean, we could make out in the theater, but I’d rather look at you than a screen.”
My heart thumped hard and despite it being winter, my cheeks heated up, half at his words and half at the way he was looking at me.
“I like this,” he said, putting down his cup and reaching up to tug at my knitted beanie, pulling it down on my forehead.
I couldn’t stop staring at his face. He was so close I could kiss him and I did want to, but not yet. Not while I could watch him. I was mesmerized with watching him.
“What?” he said with a chuckle, his voice soft. He looked almost shy.
I raised my eyebrows in question.
“You’re looking at me funny.”
I shrugged. “I’m watching you. I like watching you.”
The corner of his mouth turned up as his eyes drifted away from mine. Was he suddenly self-conscious? For some reason, that thought made it kind of hard to breathe. That I affected him this way; the way he affected me.
He pushed a piece of my hair back, tucking it into the beanie, his fingers trailing down my cheek to my chin, making me shiver. “I like touching you. I can’t seem to stop.”
His thumb teased across my mouth and then his eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in and brushed his lips across mine. “God, I feel like I can’t get enough of you,” he said, his warm breath tickling across my mouth. “Is that crazy?”
Crazy hot? Hells, yes.
“Maybe, but I don’t care,” I said, grabbing his shirt and pulling him in. This time, the kiss was more than a brush; it was serious, his lips tasting like chocolate and a hint of mint. I opened for him, my whole body flushing as we tasted each other. He groaned against me and I began to have some real concerns about being alone with him out here where there was very little chance we’d be interrupted. Before I allowed the hormones to take over my brain, I needed to do something.
“We should probably cool it,” I whispered reluctantly. Moving away from him was both necessary and awful. If this was what being drunk felt like, I never wanted to stop drinking him.
He sighed and then eased away and nodded. “Okay. You’re right.” He exhaled and looked away, through the trees at nothing, breathing heavily as he took a minute.
“Maybe we can talk for a bit,” I suggested after a few weird moments, breaking the silence. “This is our first date, after all. I normally don’t make out on a first date, you know.”
He gave me a funny look. “How many first dates have you had?”
“Fewer than I care to admit, enough that this isn’t my first. Or second.”
“Coy,” he said, but his eyes danced as he stared at me intensely.
“A lady never reveals her experience,” I said.
“Really.”
I guess. What do I know? I was totally making it all up as I went on, but he seemed to be enjoying this flirty banter. I thought about Tristan and tried to be confident.
“Really,” I said. “Nor do I kiss and tell.”
Which of course was a huge lie because all my friends knew I’d kissed him. More than once.
“And what date is your regular make-out threshold?” he asked, grabbing my hand and weaving our fingers together again.
“Usually third. At least.”
“Interesting that you made an exception for me.”
I would walk to Mars for you.
I shrugged. “It’s the pants,” fell out of my mouth. I had no idea where it even came from.
“What?” he looked down at his jeans.
“Not those. Your riding pants.”
He smirked. “Really.”
“Please,” I said, waving him off. “Like you had no idea. Every girl on campus talks about you in those pants. You’re a campus legend, Coach Fleming.”
His smile dissolved. “Really?”
I frowned. “Seriously? You didn’t know?”
He exhaled and shoved his hand through his hair. “I know they talk about me. I hear some of the whispers.”
“Except the ones about the pants, apparently.”
“Apparently,” he said. “That’s awkward.”
“You don’t do it on purpose?” I asked but the second it was out of my mouth, I regretted it.
“No, I don’t do it on purpose. I don’t ask for that attention, Brooklyn. I want to be taken seriously. I take my job very seriously.”
“I know you do,” I said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just teasing.”
He looked into my eyes and finally nodded. “Sorry. I get a little worked up about it. Plus, my mother totally grilled me about you, too, making sure I’m not taking advantage of a student. You have to know that.”
“I do, believe me. She grilled me about it, too. It was stupid of me to even mention. I’m not into you just because of your pants, Brady. I promise.”
He smiled at that and I felt relief wash over me.
“Well, unlike all the other Rosewood girls, you’ve seen me out of my pants.”
My face was suddenly so hot it felt radioactive as I thought about that day in the dean’s cottage. Splayed out and helpless on the floor did not take away from the fact that—at least from the rear—he was a perfect male specimen. Did I mention he’d been completely naked?
“Oh God,” I gurgled. “Let’s not go there.”
He laughed loudly, probably more loudly than I’d ever heard from him. “You started it with the pants, Brooklyn.”
“I know, but...We’d better talk about something else. This is approaching a third date subject.”
He looked at me sideways. “So. What do you want to talk about?”
Your butt, but no, that was not a good idea. “Tell me about the first time you rode.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “I think I was four and my dad had taken me to a petting zoo at a fair. He plunked me on top of a little pony—you know those ones that are tied on a big spoke wheel that goes around?” I nodded, having been on one of those when I was younger too, back in Colorado. “Anyway, I knew from the second that tired little pony started moving around the wheel that I was made to be on horses.”
“So your dad was who started you down this road.”
His smile faltered a little. “I guess so, yeah.”
“You don’t get along with your father?”
He let go of my hand and shook his head, shoving his hand through his hair. “Not really, no.”
“He’s in California?”
“Yeah, with his new family,” Brady, said, his words clipped. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about his father but I pushed a little more.
“And you didn’t want to spend the holidays with them.”
“No,” he said, still not looking at me. “His wife is okay, I guess. She has kids from her first marriage. But they all don’t want me around.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting him around. I mean, he wasn’t always a great conversationalist, but he was a good guy.
He shrugged. “Maybe I don’t want to be around them. He left my mother for her.”
“Oh,” I breathed, sorry for bringing it up, but I couldn’t have known. “Sorry, Brady.” I reached for his hand, rubbing his fingers with my thumb.
“It’s okay. Their marriage was bad for a long time. He had some issues with drinking and then he lost his job and didn’t tell my mom. He...he just let her think he was going to work every day.”
“How is that possible?”
“She was the principal at a public school at the time and he worked from home as an account mana
ger for a tech company. She had no idea until one day, he couldn’t shuffle money around the bank accounts anymore and finally told her. By that time there was nothing left.”
“Ugh, that’s awful.”
He shrugged, looking down at where our hands were joined. “He admitted to the affair at the same time. He’d been seeing her for months. I didn’t find that part out until fairly recently. Well, most of it, actually. I always knew he messed up somehow, but she never spoke badly about him even though I could see the aftereffects.”
“You must hate him.”
He looked up at me. “For what he did to my mother, yeah. The lies, the whole charade completely blindsided her. She was messed up for a long time.”
He was quiet for a long moment as he seemed to gaze out into the woods, though he seemed to be mostly inside his head. I hated myself a little for bringing it up, for making him think about upsetting things.
Finally he seemed to snap out of his contemplation, then looked at me and gave me a weak smile as he squeezed my fingers. “She’s got her stuff together now but it took her a while to bounce back. It wasn’t until after we moved here that she really started to heal, you know? But she’s so much better now. She’s a lot stronger than she ever was.”
I swallowed, my stomach turning as I thought about my own lies. I wanted to tell him. Sort of. Maybe it was more that I knew I had to tell him. But what? And if I did defy my father and told Brady the truth about me, would he forgive me for having lied to him this long? As I looked at him, he was raw and vulnerable and I couldn’t tell him about me and make him feel like I’d betrayed him. Not yet. Even though I knew I should.
Instead I crawled up on his lap, wrapped my arms around his neck and made him take his mind off his family.
He seemed okay with it.
Missing the Goal
Sunday was supposed to be about catching up on homework. Though it was hard to concentrate on homework when I knew Brady was on campus down at the stables. He was working with Janette to ease back into his job coaching the team on dressage and it took everything in me not to go down there just to get a peek at him in his riding pants. Because while I’d been honest when I’d said that wasn’t all I saw in him, well, it was still a very nice view. Plus, if I did sneak down there, maybe I could sneak other things, like one of his long looks or maybe even a secret kiss after practice.
Hitting the Target Page 11