My Favorite Mistake

by Georgina Bloomberg

  Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  ZARA

  Acknowledgments

  A Note on the Author

  Also By Georgina Bloomberg & Catherine Hapka

  To my father, Michael. Thank you for showing me that

  nothing is out of reach if you believe in yourself.

  —G. B.

  ONE

  Tommi wandered toward the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows, ignoring the sounds of the party going on behind her. Her friend Courtney’s penthouse apartment was right on Central Park South, and even though Tommi had been there many times, she never got tired of looking out over the park.

  “Nice view, huh?” someone said from behind her.

  She glanced back. The guy standing there was named Alex Nakano, and Tommi had only met him an hour ago. But she was already intrigued. For one thing, he was hot with a capital wow. He’d told her that his father was a Japanese-American hedge fund manager and his mother a Brazilian-born art dealer with an exclusive little gallery space down in SoHo. Alex’s multi-culti heritage had combined to give him a totally unique look—spiky dark hair, toffee-colored eyes, a lean, compact body—plus a mischievous little smirk that seemed to be all his own. It had been a long time since Tommi had felt such an immediate spark with anyone, and she was enjoying the feeling.

  “Yeah,” she said with a smile. “That’s one thing you don’t get in a brownstone. All I can see from my room is the house across the street.”

  “Yo, turn the music down!” a girl shouted from the other end of the room. “My parents will totally lose it if they find out I had a party.”

  “Shoulda thought of that before you invited us, Court!” a skinny guy with freckles called out. Duckface. One of Tommi’s oldest friends. With a shout of laughter, he jumped onto the baby grand and started doing the chicken dance.

  Alex grinned, raising his beer and hooting along with most of the other partiers. Then he turned back to Tommi.

  “It’s not really a party unless Duckface is there, is it?” he said.

  Tommi laughed. “Words to live by.” She watched with amusement as Duckface switched to the cancan, almost falling off the piano.

  When a couple of friends dragged him down and over toward the bar, Tommi turned to face the window again. The wooded expanse of the park looked mysterious and dark amid the lights and high-rises of the city surrounding it.

  “Seriously, though,” Tommi said, the gin and tonic she’d had earlier in the evening making her feel relaxed and pensive. “I love Manhattan, but it must be nice sometimes—living where you do out in the Hamptons. Or anywhere like that, you know?” She shot Alex a look. “Maybe someday I’ll have the best of both worlds. A nice place in the city so I can still go out and have fun, plus a few acres out in the country somewhere for when I need to relax.”

  “With a few horses out back, maybe?” Alex asked.

  Tommi had learned long ago that there were exactly two things that everyone in the world seemed to know about her. One was that her father was Richard Aaronson, the super-genius Wall Street billionaire. The other was that she spent most of her free time riding horses.

  “Maybe,” she said. “It’s kind of hard to imagine my horses living anywhere but Pelham Lane, though. So maybe I’ll just buy the place next door. That way I can walk over any time I want, but my horses get to keep living in the style they’ve become accustomed to.”

  “Pelham Lane?”

  “Pelham Lane Stables. My barn,” Tommi explained. “My trainer’s barn, I mean. I ride with Jamie Vos.”

  “Oh,” Alex said politely.

  Tommi laughed. “Sorry, I always forget that non-horse people mostly don’t even know who he is. It’s kind of weird to realize that, actually, since in the riding world he’s a total rock star.”

  “Really? So you’re saying this guy is like the Vince Lombardi of jumping horses over stuff?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. He’s an amazing rider and trainer. We go to all the big A shows, and to Florida in the winter. It’s awesome.”

  This was usually about the point when people started to zone out and look bored, no matter how polite they were trying to be. And that was okay. Sure, Tommi was pretty much obsessed with riding and showing. That didn’t mean she couldn’t talk about anything else.

  But before she could change the subject to music or movies or something, Alex leaned a little closer. “So how long have you been riding there?” he asked.

  She was surprised to see that he actually looked interested. “Practically forever,” she said. “My older sister started taking lessons there first. One day I tagged along, and the rest is history.”

  After that Alex kept asking questions, and Tommi kept answering them. It was kind of a novelty talking so much to a guy about riding. Her last boyfriend had pretended to snore every time she even approached the subject. Yeah, he’d thought that was really funny. One of the many reasons they’d broken up right after their school’s prom a few months earlier.

  Tommi was trying to explain the difference between hunters and jumpers when Courtney’s boyfriend, Parker, wandered over. He was tall and skinny, with a mop of blond hair and perpetually rosy cheeks that made him look closer to seven than seventeen.

  “What a surprise,” he said with a smirk. “Tommi’s blabbing about horsies.”

  Tommi rolled her eyes. “For your information, some people are actually interested in other people’s lives, Parker,” she said with a matching smirk. “Not everyone is totally self-absorbed like you.”

  “Yeah, it’s cool,” Alex put in. “I love talking to anyone who’s really passionate about something, you know?”

  “Whatever, dude.” Parker grinned at them both. “I had a feeling you guys might hit it off. Woulda introduced you sooner, except Court thought you and Grant—well, you know.” He raised an eyebrow at Tommi, then shot a glance at a handsome, broad-shouldered, preppy-looking guy chatting with a couple of people halfway across the room.

  Okay, awkward. “Yeah,” Tommi said quickly. “Um, so you guys are neighbors out in the Hamptons, huh?”

  “Uh-huh,” Alex said. “My bedroom window looks right over their tennis courts.”

  “Right.” Parker puffed out his skinny chest. “So he knew the first day he moved in that I’m a tennis superstud.”

  Alex laughed. “More like I knew right away you can’t play for crap.”

  “Maybe true,” Parker retorted. “But I can still whip your ass in straight sets.”

  As the two guys continued to razz each other, Tommi sneaked another peek at Grant. She’d known him since they were little kids, though they’d kind of lost touch when he moved to Europe for a couple of years. When he’d returned earlier this summer, taller and handsomer and much more self-assured, Tommi had actually wondered if it was time to turn their lifelong friendship into something more.

  But no. She’d quickly realized that while Grant was an amazing guy, there was just no romantic spark there. At least not on her side. He seemed to feel different, and she’d had to let him down easy after he came to watch her ride at the big Hounds Hollow show the previous weekend.

  It was definitely a little awkward being at this party with him, flirting with another guy right under his nose. But Grant didn’t seem both
ered by it—in fact, he didn’t even seem to notice. So Tommi tried not to worry about it.

  She checked her watch. “Oops, I should probably go,” she said, breaking into Parker’s bragging about his backhand or whatever. “It’s getting late.”

  “What? No way!” Alex protested. “It’s still early.”

  Parker grinned. “Yeah. Anyone who leaves before two gets the loser award.”

  “Guess I’ll have to live with the shame.” Tommi started looking around for her purse. “Because I told my trainer I’d be at the barn early tomorrow.”

  “So what?” Alex shrugged. “It sounds like you’re the barn’s superstar rider. He’ll get over it if you blow him off this one time, right?”

  Tommi knew she had to cut Alex some slack. He couldn’t be expected to know that you just didn’t blow off Jamie Vos, no matter how much money your father had or how many ribbons you’d won. No way. Jamie might seem mild-mannered and friendly on the surface, but he hadn’t become one of the most successful trainers on the circuit by being a pushover.

  Besides, in this case Jamie was doing her a favor. He’d offered to come down to the barn an hour before his first lesson of the day so he could watch her ride Legs, her new investment horse, and give her some tips.

  “Seriously, I wish I could stay,” she said. “But it’s hard to ride well when you’re falling asleep in the saddle.”

  “Come on, just stay a little bit longer,” Alex wheedled, grabbing her hand.

  “Yeah, live a little, Tommi,” Parker put in. “You can sleep when you’re dead.”

  “I will be dead if I’m late tomorrow.” Tommi was distracted by the feeling of Alex’s hand squeezing hers. Not to mention the way he was looking at her with big puppy-dog eyes—as if her decision to stay or go would make or break his whole night.

  Besides, he was right. They both were. What could it hurt to stay a little longer? All she’d lose was some sleep. No big deal.

  “Maybe half an hour,” she relented. “But then I’ve really got to go.”

  Alex grinned. “Cool. I’ll take what I can get.”

  Just then Duckface came dancing over, three or four giggling girls following him in a sloppy conga line. Duckface waved his Corona over his head in salute to the group by the window. “We should do this way more often, you guys,” he said, his words slightly slurred. “Like, every weekend.”

  “Yeah,” one of the giggling girls put in. “Court, you should totally convince your parents to go to Bermuda all the time.”

  Courtney, who’d just wandered over to check her magenta-streaked blond hair in the reflective surface of the window, rolled her eyes. “Right,” she said. “This is the last time I let any of you idiots near my house.”

  Parker grinned and kissed her on the top of her head. “We’ll see about that.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Alex spoke up. “How about a house party out at my place? My folks are in Brazil all month—if I bribe the house manager, he’ll totally let you all crash there for a few days.”

  “Seriously?” Duckface said. “I’m so there, dude!”

  “Me too.” Parker glanced around at the others. “You guys should see Nakano’s place. The pool’s amazing.”

  “A pool? Count me in!” one of the girls said eagerly.

  “Sweet,” Alex said. “We could do it this coming week if you want. My aunt’s there this weekend, but she’ll be cleared out by Monday afternoon. You guys could come then and stay through Saturday.” He grinned and glanced at Courtney. “That’ll still give me plenty of time to clean up all the broken stuff before the ’rents get back.”

  “See?” Parker tapped Courtney on the forehead. “That’s planning, my dear.”

  Courtney just rolled her eyes. Meanwhile Alex turned toward Tommi.

  “How about it?” he said. “You were just saying you like to get out of Manhattan sometimes, right?”

  “Yeah,” Tommi said slowly. “And wow, it sounds great—I really wish I could join you all. But—”

  “No buts!” Alex broke in. “You’ve got to come.”

  “Like I said, I wish I could. But I’ve got a show next week, and I’m supposed to drive down there on Tuesday.”

  Duckface snorted. “Don’t be so uptight, Tommi,” he said. “It’s worth skipping one of your pony rides for a totally epic Hamptons house party.”

  “Yeah,” Alex said. “It won’t be the same without you.”

  His eyes gazed into hers hopefully. She hesitated, trying to figure out how to explain it to him. This wasn’t just another horse show—not now that she had Legs to worry about. She’d bought the horse in partnership with her father, and part of the deal was that she had to get him sold by the fall. That meant every show counted right now. She couldn’t afford to skip one.

  Or could she? Looking into Alex’s eyes, she had to wonder. Sure, riding and showing was important. But so was the rest of her life. Besides, she’d been pushing Legs—and herself—pretty hard. They could both probably use a little time off, right?

  “Okay, I definitely can’t totally skip the show,” she said. “But maybe I can take a pass on the schooling class I was going to do on Wednesday morning. That way I wouldn’t need to get there until Thursday. So at least I could sneak out to the Hamptons for a couple of days.”

  “So you’re in?” Alex sounded so psyched that the second thoughts Tommi was already having dissipated instantly. “Cool! It’ll be so worth it—we’re going to have a blast.”

  “Yeah.” Tommi returned his smile. “I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

  “Hey, boy. How’re you feeling?” Kate Nilsen stepped toward the tall chestnut gelding looking out over his stall guard. The horse leaned forward as she approached, quickly lipping up the carrot chunk she pulled out of her jeans pocket. Just as quickly, he swung his head around, pricking his ears at a cat dashing down the aisle.

  Kate felt her stomach clench with anxiety as she watched him. Ford, as the horse was known, had been one of the most promising young show hunters at Pelham Lane.

  Now? He was pretty much a useless pasture ornament. At least until he healed from his injuries—if he ever did.

  Hearing footsteps, Kate glanced over her shoulder. Marissa, one of the other junior riders at the barn, was walking toward her. “Hi,” Marissa said. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s not happy being stuck in his stall.” Kate dodged the horse’s big head as he swung around to stare at a bird that had just landed on a nearby windowsill. “Vet says we can hand walk him a little, though. Maybe that will help. I was thinking I might take him out now, actually.”

  “Cool. Let me know if I can, you know, help or whatever.” Marissa’s smile looked forced and kind of guilty.

  Kate understood, because she shared the same guilt. They’d both witnessed the accident that had robbed this horse of his soundness. So had most of the other junior riders at Pelham Lane. It had happened last weekend at the big Hounds Hollow show. There had been an after-hours party, and a bunch of drunken juniors had decided to play high jumper with some of the Pelham Lane horses. One of those juniors, a new girl named Zara, had ended up flipping Ford over the jump. She’d escaped without injury, but the gelding had pulled a suspensory and fractured his withers.

  “I still can’t believe we have to lie to Jamie about what happened,” Marissa whispered after taking a careful look around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear.

  Kate knew what she meant, and then some. It was hard for any of them to lie to Jamie. But it was even worse for Kate. She owed Jamie so much more than the others. If he hadn’t agreed to take her on as a working student, she’d still be stuck at her old lesson barn riding half-broke pukes from the local auction. She’d still be dreaming about riding nice horses at the big shows, not doing it.

  Yes, she owed him everything. At least everything important. Normally she’d never lie to him. But this wasn’t a normal situation. Not even close.

  “It sucks,” she said softly. “But what
can we do? We just have to …”

  She let her voice trail off as she heard voices at the end of the aisle. A second later several chattering preteens rounded the corner, dressed for their morning lesson. At the same time one of the grooms, a guy in his early twenties named Max, appeared at the other end leading a freshly bathed pony. Even at this early hour on a Sunday morning, the barn was busy. Everyone, from the school kids to the working adults, wanted to get in some riding time before next week’s show.

  Marissa moved on toward her horse’s stall, and Kate gave Ford another pat. “Back in a sec, big guy,” she told him. “Just need to grab a lead shank.”

  She hurried toward the tack room. Spacious and well organized, it was the center of the barn both literally and figuratively. The big bandage trunk in the middle of the room often served double duty as a table, and at the moment bridle parts were scattered across its weathered wooden top—reins, nosebands, and more, all jumbled together. A browband and a couple of curb chains had fallen on the floor, where an elderly bulldog was snuffling at them with his pushed-in nose.

  The guy bent over the pile of bits didn’t seem to notice. He was scrubbing at some green horse slobber that had dried in the links of a Waterford bit when Kate entered, but looked up immediately when she said his name, flipping back his shock of reddish-blond hair.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he greeted her with a rakish smile. Tossing aside the half-cleaned bit, he unfolded his tall, lanky body from its seat on an overturned bucket. In two quick steps he was across the room and giving her a kiss.

  “You’re here early,” she said, a little breathless. Kissing Fitz had that effect on her. Made her forget about everything else, even breathing.

  “Tell me about it.” Fitz snorted. “Jamie wanted me here at the butt-crack of dawn so I could scrub down his grody tack.”

  Kate giggled. “Come on. To most people, eight a.m. isn’t exactly the butt-crack of dawn.”

  “Maybe not. But I’m not used to getting up before noon.” He leaned in for another kiss. “Now I’m glad I did, though.”

  Kate only hesitated for a moment before letting go, allowing her body to melt into his. Even after everything that had happened, it still felt really nice to be close to him.