Hunter Derby: (Show Circuit Series -- Book 3)

by Kim Ablon Whitney

  “Stop looking at me,” Zoe said. “Put your ears back. Look mean.” But for once, Gidget wouldn’t and it nearly broke Zoe’s heart.

  It took a few hours to get back to Bedford. Zoe had planned to spend the night, pack up her stuff, and leave early the next morning. But sitting in her sad apartment, she made the impulsive decision to pack up immediately and start driving. She’d drive as far as she could, maybe drive all night. If she got too tired she could find a hotel.

  It didn’t take her long to pack, which was depressing in itself. Some people had so much stuff, so many things, that they felt weighed down by the clutter. Those people dreamed of purging all the useless stuff, and lightening their load.

  But Zoe’s life was the opposite. She owned nothing of substance besides her clothes and her two saddles. It felt disheartening to realize your life fit into the back of your car. As she threw her last bag in, she wondered if she’d ever have a house of her own.

  Then came the monotonous hours of highway, with quick stops to use disgusting side-of-the-road gas station bathrooms and buy caffeinated beverages and junk snacks. The worst thing when you’ve got too much on your mind is to be in a car for hours by yourself.

  The large green signs that loomed overhead and the minutes slowly passing on the dashboard clock were the only signs of progress. Radio stations came in and out of tune; more country stations cropped up the further south she traveled.

  Somewhere along the way, when it wasn’t yet too late, she called Hannah and was thrilled when she actually picked up.

  “How’s Vermont?” Hannah asked.

  “I left actually. Grant called me because Lindsay broke her femur and she has pins in it and shit so she’s out for months. I’m doing her horses at Derby Finals.”

  “Three Wishes? You’re riding Three Wishes?”

  “I know, right?”

  “That is so awesome,” Hannah said. “It’s just what you wanted!”

  Zoe was quiet on the other end and Hannah added, “Isn’t it? What am I missing here?”

  “I had to pick up and leave Linda rider-less and John too. Linda understood or she pretended to anyway, but John didn’t. And, I don’t know, there was something between us. And now he hates me.”

  “Hates you?”

  “I didn’t tell him right away and then he found out from someone else that I was leaving.”

  Hannah made a sucking-in-her-breath sound.

  “Yeah,” Zoe said. “It got ugly.”

  “Maybe he’ll get over it? Give it time. Plus, this job is only temporary, right? After Lindsay comes back, you’ll go back there?”

  “I don’t know. That’s too far off to know, and by that time it’ll be Florida and John doesn’t go to Florida. I think this is a case of it just not being the right time. You know when that happens, you like someone and maybe he likes you and you could have had something good but the timing just sucks.”

  “Yeah,” Hannah said, rueful. “I know all about that.”

  Zoe realized she’d been being selfish—only talking about herself. “How’s it going there? Are you getting over him?”

  “I guess so,” Hannah said. “I read somewhere that it takes twice as long as the relationship to get over someone so that means I’ve got like another year to go.”

  “If it took twice as long as you dated someone to get over them, then no one would ever get over anybody,” Zoe pointed out.

  “Well, I guess you can be with someone else but still not be over your ex.”

  Zoe sighed. “Oh my God, you’re overthinking all of this. This is just like you. Are you going out with friends? Hooking up with anyone?”

  “I’ve been doing the going-out-with-friends part,” she said.

  “But not the hooking up?”

  “I don’t think I want to just hook up with someone. Not after what happened with McNair. I’m still recovering from that.”

  “Water under the bridge,” Zoe said. “Trust me. You gotta let that one go.”

  The distraction of Hannah’s problems was helping Zoe feel mildly better. She liked how with Hannah she was the savvy one.

  Hannah was quiet for a moment and then said, “Have you heard anything from Chris?”

  “I’ve seen some of the results. Looks like the team is doing well.”

  “I’ve seen those too. I meant have you heard anything.”

  Zoe knew what she meant. She meant had she heard anything about whether Chris was back together with Mary Beth. She couldn’t blame Hannah for asking. Truthfully, she hadn’t heard anything. Morgan would be someone who would know. He was friends with Mary Beth. They ran in the same circles. But she wasn’t about to ask him.

  “I haven’t heard anything.”

  “Are you just trying to not hurt my feelings because maybe, if I knew he was with her, it would be better for me. Then maybe I could really move on, once and for all.”

  Zoe switched lanes to pass a motor home with Colorado plates. “I swear I actually don’t know anything but maybe I can subtly ask around if you want.”

  “I don’t know what I want,” Hannah said. “Maybe it’s better if I don’t know.”

  “You haven’t texted him or anything?”

  “No, I’ve been good about that. Believe me, I’ve wanted to. I’ve liked some of his posts but I figure that’s harmless. I keep checking to see what he’s listening to on Spotify.”

  “It’ll get easier,” Zoe said. “I’ve been where you were and I promise, it will.”

  When they finally hung up, Zoe felt all sad inside. Maybe it was just being alone in the car again and having to think about how it had ended with John. A Luke Bryan song came on and it only made her think about him more.

  But it was also that she wasn’t sure she’d really been where Hannah was now, like she’d told her. Hannah and Chris had been truly, deeply in love. Anyone could have recognized that.

  Zoe had never been truly, deeply in love. She’d had crushes, she’d lusted after guys, she’d had hook-ups (many drunken), and she’d had friends-with-benefits.

  She’d never found herself falling in love with anyone, till John.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Lyman Creek Farm was everything it should have been. After driving through the night, Zoe pulled through the stately front gate at around six in the evening. Mature trees stood between the winding driveway and the rolling pastures. At a corner of one of the pastures sat a large coop jump—clearly the hunt came through the property. The pastures stretched as far as Zoe could see, meeting the sky where the setting sun cast stripes of pale purple.

  Grant had left instructions with the barn manager to send Zoe up to the main house. More dogs than she could count met her at the door. Grant held a crystal highball glass in one hand and a dog in the other.

  Here was a man who had mastered the show world. He was one of the few trainers who had job security, and wasn’t always depending on his next sale to pay a backload of bills. He had a generous salary, health insurance, and probably even a 401K. He had a long-time boyfriend, a house with nice furniture, and a beautiful farm.

  Next to him, Zoe felt like a vagabond.

  “You looked exhausted, hon,” he said.

  “I am,” she admitted. “I drove through the night.”

  “Then you need to get some rest. We’ll chat in the mañana.”

  Zoe nodded, grateful that he apparently knew just what she needed. He had a bit of a fatherly presence and Zoe remembered that before he had come out as gay he’d been married and had a daughter.

  She had a suite with a kitchenette in a hotel two exits from the farm. She planned on getting dinner but after a hot shower she lay down on the bed and the next thing she knew it was six the next morning.

  She found a morning show on T.V. and listened as she scrolled through her Facebook and Insta feeds. She snapped a pic of her hotel and snapchatted it to Hannah with the text: My New Home.

  On her way to the barn she found a bagel place and stopped to get breakfast
and coffee.

  When she drove into the barn, still chewing the last of her bagel, Grant was already on a horse. She parked and walked out to the ring to say hello.

  “You look a little more rested,” he said, pulling up to a walk. He wasn’t a pretty picture on a horse these days. His back was roached and his knees stuck out but he still could train a horse better than many.

  He was mostly known as a judge and a trainer now but several decades ago he’d been one of the best hunter riders. Every so often a vintage photo of him made the rounds on the Equestrians Back in the Day Facebook group and everyone commented on what a gifted rider he’d been.

  “I slept like the dead,” she said.

  “Ready to ride?” he asked.

  “You bet.”

  Zoe rode seven that day. It was more than she’d ridden in a while and the soreness in her legs felt wonderful.

  Lindsay, her leg in a full cast, showed up mid-morning after a doctor’s appointment, and sat in a golf cart by the ring. She gave Zoe a brief history of all the horses she’d be riding, where they were from, how old they were, how long they’d had them, what they’d been showing in, and how they went best. Zoe didn’t know the greenies but the derby horses needed no introduction.

  “That’s my baby you’re on now,” Lindsay said when Zoe came out on Three Wishes, or Trey as he was called around the barn.

  “I can’t believe I get to ride him,” Zoe replied.

  “Don’t get too used to it.” She was smiling as she said it but Zoe knew she was serious too. This was her territory. It was one thing for Zoe to help out but Lindsay had a career to protect.

  “I won’t,” Zoe said, trying to put Lindsay at ease. “I’ll just enjoy it while I can.”

  Over the next few weeks, Lindsay watched Zoe when she jumped the horses. Grant was there to supervise too. Kathleen never made an appearance, which Zoe thought was kind of strange until Lindsay told her that her marriage was on the rocks and she was staying up north, trying to work things out.

  Lyman Creek was just the type of operation Zoe had longed to be a part of. The horses were high quality. The grooms kept the barn spotless and well-organized. Zoe never had to pick up a pile of manure or sweep the aisle. Not once did anyone ask her to grab a horse from a paddock or throw even one measly flake of hay.

  Nearly every day vets, farriers, and other professionals came in and out, providing expert care, and still, there was never one single moment where the staff was shorthanded and could have used Zoe’s help.

  She should have been feeling ecstatic about working at Lyman Creek but it felt all wrong. She wanted to grab a pitchfork or put a halter on a horse but anytime she tried to offer, or even just stepped in, the grooms popped up out of nowhere and took over.

  “No, it’s okay, I want to put on his boots,” Zoe would say.

  But whatever groom was tacking up the horse would shake his head, smiling, and say, “No.” He’d keep saying, “No,” until she gave in and handed over the boots. Once a groom had to literally pull a broom out of her hands.

  She, Lindsay, and Grant worked well together. Maybe it was easy to get along when you had such nice horses. They were well broke and just so talented. Even the green ones were relatively level-headed. With such nice horses you weren’t arguing about the best way to fix insurmountable problems and whether you should use nefarious means.

  Each night Zoe went to her nice hotel room, and felt like crying. She missed John. She missed Molly. She missed Linda and Dakota and Gidget and Midway. She missed them all. She missed Narrow Lane and leading kids around the ring again and again, and mucking out stalls. She even missed Daisy and Pepper.

  She missed trail rides with John and just hanging around the barn with him, getting the horses ridden. She composed texts to him in her head and even typed out a few of them on her phone but always ended up deleting them.

  She texted with Linda, who said John still brought Gidget over to her farm for jump-schools. He always asks about you, Linda said.

  Really?

  Always.

  She looked back through photos of her and John and Molly. Selfies they’d taken watching movies, and photos Zoe had snapped at Narrow Lane.

  There were times when she thought she’d made the worst mistake possible. That she should have stayed with John and Linda. But then she would tell herself that, no, she’d done the right thing. No one would turn down riding Three Wishes at Derby Finals.

  This was what she’d wanted ever since she’d ridden her last jump as a junior. This was her chance to get back in the winner’s circle.

  She wished Lindsay or Grant would invite her for dinner but while they were friendly to her they didn’t go the extra mile. So she was left alone in her hotel room, with too much time to think. She thought about Florida and the stealing, replaying some of her darkest moments. She thought about how Dakota felt Zoe had let her down and how she hadn’t been able to take Molly to Taylor Swift. She’d sold the tickets back to the ticket place and took a loss on them.

  She thought about Braydon and how scared he must have been in the last few minutes before he died.

  When Morgan texted to ask her if she’d like to grab a drink, she said yes immediately. She wanted anything to get her out of her own mind and she’d already blown the pact and lost John. What did being with Morgan matter anymore? In fact, maybe she deserved to be treated like shit.

  She didn’t even know how Morgan knew she was in Lexington, or why he was suddenly there. He’d probably come to do the grand prix at Kentucky Summer II.

  All contact she ever had with Morgan had an air of mysteriousness to it, like he paid people to know things about people, like where they were and what they were doing at any given time.

  At the bar they went to, she let herself have two drinks and either the bartender had made them strong or maybe Morgan had told him to. But, again, what did it matter anymore? She had lost John and Molly and Narrow Lane and everything that had mattered to her. Everything that made her feel good about herself and the kind of person she was.

  Plus, she had to be more than just lightly buzzed if she was going to deal with Morgan’s strange bedroom antics. Who knew what would happen tonight? What crazy shit he would pull.

  Back at his hotel room, it nearly seemed like it would be normal sex, for once. Morgan seemed relaxed and happy, kind of surprisingly mellow for him. They spent a long time kissing, which was also kind of surprising for him. He usually went straight for tearing off her clothes, not bothering with the small intimacies like kissing or running a slow hand down the side of her hip.

  Zoe lay back on the bed with him kissing her and thought that this was going pretty well. She was definitely buzzed, feeling a little floaty, and Morgan was acting regular. He migrated his kissing down to where her T-shirt met her jeans and unbuttoned them, continuing to kiss her lower abdomen.

  She ran her hands through his hair as he wiggled her jeans down lower on her hips, taking her panties halfway down with them. He raised back up to rest on his forearms on either side of her shoulders, his face looking at hers. He ground himself into her with his hips and she raked her hands over his back and gave a little moan.

  It felt okay and mostly she wanted to encourage his normal behavior. Maybe the last time they’d been together had been a wake-up call for him and he’d realized he’d gotten out of control and needed to tone it down.

  He rolled to the side of her and promptly took off his shirt, pants, and boxers. She reciprocated by pulling her shirt over her head and wiggling completely out of her jeans. She was about to take off her bra when he grabbed her panties and pulled them harshly the rest of the way down her legs. He wadded them into a ball and threw them across the room.

  His demeanor had changed.

  Shit, Zoe thought. Shit, shit, shit.

  She braced herself on the bed, waiting for what was next, and praying the predatory look on Morgan’s face just meant he was excited. She decided to try to distract him with a little di
rty talk.

  “I want you inside me,” she said. “Right now. I need it right now.”

  In a way it was true because if she didn’t get him inside her, who knew what would happen next. It was harder to throw her against a wall when he was fucking her. Or at least that’s what she hoped.

  “You want me?” he said.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  He glared at her. “How badly?”

  “Uh, badly?” she said unconvincingly.

  His hands were suddenly around her throat, down by her collarbone. She could still breathe but it was terrifying, and not the least bit sexy or thrilling. He put himself inside her, his hands still pressing on her neck.

  “Can you let go?” she said. “That doesn’t feel good.”

  He didn’t let go. He didn’t stop.

  Instead he tightened his grip. She felt panicked, her throat constricting perhaps more from fear than from his hold on her. But the fear soon turned to resolve.

  Something flipped inside her.

  That was it.

  She was done with Morgan Cleary.

  She was done with letting herself be treated this way.

  John was right. Even if they would never be together, even if she had torched their entire friendship, he was right.

  She deserved better than this.

  “Get off!” she screamed. When Morgan didn’t respond right away, she added, “I’m fucking serious, get off me!”

  She elbowed him hard just under the ribs and it was enough to make him let go of her neck and roll off her. She had been prepared to follow with a swift knee to the groin if necessary.

  She jumped off the bed, coughing, her head spinning. She found her footing and grabbed her clothes, the ones she could locate anyway. She had no idea where her underwear was and didn’t care. He could have it as a parting gift. She just wanted out of there.

  She tugged on her jeans and was halfway to the door while she was still pulling on her T-shirt.

  “Where are you going?” Morgan said, like what had just happened was no big deal.

  “You are never touching me ever again,” she shouted at him. “I’m done with you. I don’t know why it took me this long. You’re bat-shit crazy. You think I liked that? You hurting me? You need help. That’s all I can say.”