by Ward, J. R.
“Sorry for the colorful language.” His voice was deep and low.
“Highly descriptive as well as educational.” She tried to smile nonchalantly. “I didn’t know you could do that to a filing cabinet.”
She leaned against the doorjamb, keeping her distance. They hadn’t been alone since the night of the kiss up in his bedroom, by silent agreement. He’d taken to conveniently disappearing whenever she had to use the bath and she pretended to be asleep every morning when he came downstairs to start breakfast. Chester was with them the rest of the time.
She hadn’t found the forced distance helpful. Since reality wasn’t offering a release to her sexual tension, her fantasies were picking up the slack. Instead of growing more dim, the memory of their kisses haunted her, taking on mythic proportions.
Which is what happens, she thought, when you spend so much time staring at the wall at night. Perspective is the first thing to go. Followed closely by good humor.
“Anything I can help with?” she asked.
“My filing system’s failed me.”
A.J. glanced around the room. Papers were everywhere. Covering the floor, stacked on top of filing cabinets, crowded in piles. It was a jungle.
“I don’t know that I’d call it filing. More like stationery landscaping.”
“I find things easier if it’s all laid out,” he said, crouching down over another stack. “Usually.”
“What are you after?”
“Receipts from a feed company. You ready for tomorrow?”
“I wouldn’t say ready. More like resigned. Reminds me of when I got my wisdom teeth removed. One way or another, it’ll be over tomorrow night.”
Feeling restless, because of the event in the morning and because she was finally alone with him, she fingered the bottom of her T-shirt, pulling apart the frayed hem and creating a hole. The shirt was at least ten years old and she was wearing it for good luck. On the front, there was the name of the local high school football team as well as a big lion’s head. On the back it read, DON’T MESS WITH THE CATS.
Coming up empty from another excavation, Devlin got to his feet, shaking out his stiff leg. “You two have come a long way since that first day. You’ve got longer to go but it’s not like you’re standing still.”
“What are we going to do if there’s water in the ring tomorrow?”
They’d been so busy working on the basics, the water jump had remained unfilled. It was one more source of anxiety. Neither of them wanted her to take the stallion over one in competition for the first time.
“If there’s water, you’re going to take your best shot and hope he holds, but I’m betting you won’t have to worry about it. This is a regional competition. There’ll be some good riders there but it’s not a huge event. They’re not going to get too fancy.”
“I know you’re right but my mind just keeps spinning.” Her hands sped up their work.
“Stop picking at that shirt before there’s nothing left of it,” he said darkly. Not that shredding the damn thing isn’t totally appealing, Devlin added to himself.
Her hands stilled. “I’m a little keyed up.”
Looking at the hole she’d created, Devlin felt the power of his lust for her. Staying away from A.J. for two weeks had been hell and the virtues of self-restraint were losing their ability to fortify his willpower. The last thing he needed was to be talking to her and imagining what she’d look like with her breasts bare to his eyes.
The mere thought was enough to make him get hard. Every night, in his dreams, she came to him, drifting up the stairs, through his door, into his bed. He would feel her skin against his, get lost in her mouth, smell the lavender in her hair. And then he would wake up and wonder why the hell she was sleeping anywhere else but beside him.
His jaw tightened.
“You look fierce,” she said softly.
“Sorry. I guess I’m keyed up myself.”
Liar, he thought. He wasn’t anxious about the event. He wasn’t even thinking about it. It was A.J. that was on his mind. The fact that they were alone in his house. That with two steps forward she would be close enough for him to kiss her. On the lips. On the neck. On the—
“I want you to know, I won’t let us down. I’m going to give it my very best tomorrow.”
“Of course you will,” he said, trying to focus. “You’ve been giving it your very best every day in that ring. You’ve been amazing to watch. You’re so much more than I ever expected.”
“I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” Her blue eyes were downcast and her face flushed, as if she was embarrassed by his praise as well as pleased with it.
He cleared his throat, feeling like he should offer her more support. “Your entire future doesn’t rest on tomorrow. Not your riding career, not your chances at turning Sabbath into a champion. It’s one competition in what hopefully will be a long list of shows with you on his back. You’re just starting down the road, and if you stumble in the first few feet, it doesn’t mean you can’t go the distance.”
A.J. smiled at him and he felt as if she’d stolen the breath from his lungs. Standing in the doorway, wearing that pair of flannel boxers and the old T-shirt, she was the most enticing woman he’d ever seen. Her hair was around her shoulders in thick waves and her skin glowed in the dim light. As his body throbbed, he realized it wouldn’t matter what she was wearing; he’d always be attracted to her. To him, she could turn a burlap sack into a negligee.
Devlin cleared his throat. “Listen, I know Chester is more your go-to guy for pep talks, but if you need an affirmation for tonight, I think I could scare one up.”
She laughed huskily in a way that made him itch to get his hands on her.
“What would you suggest?” she asked. “Something like ‘Believe in yourself and all things are possible’?”
“I think mine would involve more scotch.”
“I’m not much for liquor. It makes me feel loopy.”
“Then, as your guru for the evening, I’d advise you to stick with the believing in yourself part.”
“Good advice,” she said as she turned to go. “See you at first light?”
Devlin nodded.
And all through my dreams, he thought.
As she was leaving, he raked his hand through his hair and took a steadying breath. He decided it was just as well she was going downstairs. He’d learned his needs got stronger in the nighttime, so they were both better off if she was on a different floor. Hell, on that logic, he should be sleeping in the barn with Sabbath.
Devlin looked around his study, trying to remember what he’d been hunting for. All that came to mind were images of A.J., so he gave up his search. As he turned off the light, he thought it was a pity he’d have to go past her to get to the scotch.
* * *
It was a little after seven o’clock in the morning when the McCloud Stables trailer pulled into the fairgrounds where the competition was being held. The rig wasn’t as big as the one A.J. was used to, but then, she’d seen double-wides smaller than the Sutherland behemoth. Funny thing was, she preferred Devlin’s to the one she used to go around in. It was easier to maneuver and far less ostentatious.
Devlin had been behind the wheel for the hour-long trip through the Virginia countryside while A.J. and Chester sat comfortably in the cab beside him. The three had been up since the crack of dawn, falling into a precontest routine of checks and balances designed to ensure that no piece of equipment was forgotten and no contingency left unanticipated.
As Devlin piloted them to the competitors’ area, which was down a dirt road past lines of cars that had been parked on the grass, A.J. surveyed the scene. Teenagers, looking bored and embarrassed in their orange bibs and matching baseball caps, were directing traffic on either side of the road. Beyond them, the fairground was a vast open area, marked by white fences and a few modest buildings. The field had been used for growing corn and wheat for generations until it became a casualty of big-business
farming. Now it was owned by the county, a big draw for rodeos, jumping shows and the odd traveling circus or two.
And that drive-in retrospective on Godzilla hadn’t been bad, A.J. reflected. There was nothing like seeing Mothra up on the big screen.
As Devlin scouted around for an open spot to park in, she found herself bracing to see the Sutherland logo plastered on the side of a trailer or on the back of a T-shirt worn by one of the grooms. A team from Sutherland’s would be at the competition; she was sure of it. Knowing she was going to have to compete against people she used to see every day, but now had no stable affiliation with, made her feel the gravity of her dislocation. As long as she was sequestered at Devlin’s, it was as if the compound didn’t exist. Her days were so full, and her mind so preoccupied with training, she hadn’t had time to think of much else.
Now, amidst the surging energy of an event, she was reminded of everything she’d left, including her father. The only contact with him had been a message she’d left on his business line, informing him where she was in case of emergency. It was a cold way to leave things and she regretted the distance as much as she felt relieved by it. She didn’t want to cut herself off from him permanently but she needed time to get over the hurt, and his decision to put Peter in charge without consulting her still burned.
Devlin pointed out a spot at the far end of the grounds and, when they all agreed on the choice, drove them over to the quiet corner. Shaded by trees and set away from most of the activity, it was perfect for them.
As A.J. stepped from the cab, she stretched and looked around. Beyond their secluded site, there was a practice ring with warm-up jumps, a bank of concession stands and merchant tents overflowing with riding equipment and clothing. Set apart from the retail activity was the show ring. With a set of bleachers and plenty of space around it for the crowd to sit on the grass, the arena was twice the size of the one she’d been training in at Devlin’s.
All over the fairgrounds, people were about, ambling around with cups of steaming coffee and programs tucked under their arms, if they were part of the crowd, or moving quickly, if they were involved with putting on the show or competing in it. There were groomsmen and trainers, judges with their badges, fresh-faced volunteers who would grow up to be the next generation of champions. For a moment, it was easy for A.J. to forget her worries and get lost in the sheer wonder of the human parade. And, in the midst of it all, she felt a thrill go through her. There was no place she’d rather have been.
“I’ll go check the start board and make sure you’re all set,” Devlin said to her. Chester had already gone back to check on Sabbath.
“The first round doesn’t go off until nine, right?” she asked.
“Plenty of time.”
It was a lie. They both knew the two hours would go like brushfire.
The jumping competition was being staged first and would be followed by dressage and novice events in the afternoon. She didn’t think they’d be staying for the full day, not with Sabbath in tow. Getting through the morning was going to be exhausting and the sooner they got him away from the crowds, the better.
A.J. came around the trailer just as Chester was backing the stallion out of it. The horse was antsy as he hit the ground, wrenching his neck back and forth with eyes that were a little wild. It wasn’t a good sign.
“This is a competition,” Chester was scolding him. “Not a time to be worryin’ about the ladies.”
A.J. laughed nervously, going to Sabbath’s head to try to soothe him. “I’m not ready for him to start dating.”
“Neither is he.”
Sabbath was prancing this way and that, his glossy black coat flashing like obsidian in the bright morning sun. Chester, on the other hand, was standing firmly in place, with an iron grip on the lead.
A.J. could feel the looks of the crowd as they walked by, their eyes measuring the horse with undisguised curiosity and then looking her over with a similar expression. She wanted to believe they were arrested by the sight of him and wishing her well, but she knew better and did her best to meet the stares calmly. She might be anxious about what was going to happen in the ring but she was going to do her damnedest not to show it.
When she was satisfied that the stallion was under some control, she decided to take a look at the ring. “I’m going to walk the course. Want anything?”
“I don’t think they’re sellin’ what I need,” Chester said as the stallion threw his head again. “An anchor to hang off this one’s forehead would be great. Last longer than m’ arm, too.”
“I think we’re out of luck on marine supplies but maybe I can scare up some other kind of deadweight.”
Would give me a use for Peter, if I run into him, she thought with humor.
Heading to the show ring, she wanted to find Devlin, get close to the billboard to check the order of riders, and study the jump course. Already, competitors and trainers were crowded around the board so she had to stand on the tips of her toes to see over all the heads. She was arching forward when she felt someone put an arm around her waist.
“And so you are back with the bronco.”
The French accent cut through her nerves like a chain saw. She turned to face Philippe Marceau and took a step away at the same time.
“Ah, but how the morning light suits you.” His wide, placating smile showed a lot of dental work.
She acknowledged him with a reserved nod and found it amazing how something so melodious as that accent could be so grating coming out of his mouth. Was it all the caps on his teeth?
“I see you come after me in order,” he was saying while striking a pose. His riding clothes were conventional and top quality but he was wearing a pair of extreme wraparound sunglasses. “You are a woman of great courage to bring that beast into the ring. But then, I hear you have help, non?”
“I have a trainer,” she confirmed while searching for an escape route.
Standing close to this man is like being stuck in an elevator, she decided. You’d bargain with God to get free.
“But not just any trainer. Not only does this woman tackle a stallion no one else can seem to tame but she resurrects the dead, n’est-ce pas? You have done wonders to stir McCloud’s blood again, or so I have heard.”
A.J.’s mouth dropped open at the insinuation. “What are you talking about?”
“Surely you jest. The news is all around.” He gesticulated with a limp wrist. “Although I must say, you are faithless to leave your family in favor of a man who is not your husband. No matter how good you find his services.”
Her vision narrowed on the man’s jugular. “Why, you little—”
Devlin appeared at her side. “A.J.! Time to go pace off the course.”
“Ah,” Philippe said grandly. “And here is your good teacher, the man you gave up so much for. Myself, I could not imagine leaving my family for someone else’s stable, but I am French and we are known for our loyalty. Then again, I also don’t need the particular kind of instruction this McCloud offers.”
A.J. could sense her face turning brick red and felt like a boxer winding up for a punch.
“Come on,” Devlin said.
“Yes, run along, you two. I imagine there is much you must do to each other.”
That did it. She lost it.
“Why, you tar-mouthed gossip hound—”
She was itching to go further but Devlin put a firm hand on her arm and began to lead her away.
“And speaking of gossip,” the Frenchman called out as they left, “you would do well to keep your ear to the floor. I myself am going to make an announcement soon.”
“That’s ‘ear to the ground,’ you—”
“Enough,” Devlin hissed, dragging her off.
When they were out of range from the crowd, A.J. whirled on him, eyes flashing turquoise.
“How could you let him go on like that? You didn’t give me the chance to defend us!”
Devlin said nothing, which infuriated her further.
He just stood there, staring at her calmly. Didn’t he have any pride?
“I mean, come on! Marceau made insinuations that were insane and you hauled me off before I could respond.”
When that didn’t get any reaction, she frowned.
“Hello?”
“You finished?” he asked. “Or do you want to give him more of what he’s after?”
A.J. looked confused.
He said, “Tell me what you’re thinking about right now.”
“How I’d like to crown him with a bag of feed.”
“Anything else?”
“How wrong he is about us. How ridiculous it is for that man to talk about loyalty after he’s dated so many women simultaneously, his bed needs a waiting room.”
“Good. Now tell me why we’re here.”
She looked at him like he’d gone daft. “To compete.”
“Right. And you’re blowing all your energy and concentration on Philippe Marceau about thirty minutes before you have to go into the ring.”
“But the things he said—”
“Were exactly what he knew would get you rattled.”
She shook her head. “But why would he bother?”
“Because he sees you’re becoming a threat.”
“I doubt that. Sabbath is worse than an unknown and I’m not the seasoned competitor Marceau is. He doesn’t have anything to worry about.”
“You’re closing in on him faster than you think. As rough as he is, Sabbath could eat up the ground under any of Marceau’s mounts and you have more natural talent than he could ever hope to train for.”
“I can’t believe he’s threatened by me. That performance is just his personality, not strategy.”
“Don’t bet on it. He’s got great instincts when it comes to human nature and he uses them to his advantage. Always.”
A.J. opened her mouth but he cut her off.
“You’ve been in some competitions but you obviously haven’t had enough experience with the kind of head games people like Marceau play. As you rise up through the ranks, you better get ready for it. Competition has a way of souring people and, in Marceau’s case, he was pretty damn close to rotten before he started.”