by Molly Harper, Stephanie Haefner, Liora Blake, Gabra Zackman, Andrea Laurence, Colette Auclair
“Maybe later, then,” he said, amused but not wanting to push his luck. “I’d like to start lessons. Learn where all the buttons are on this guy.”
“Okay. Great.” Her delivery was still strained and her face was still red.
“Do you not want to teach me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She towed the hay cart away from him, looking ahead. She left the barn, returned cartless, and made a beeline for the grain room.
He followed her. He smelled lilacs and roses in her wake. “You smell great.” Ignoring him, she opened a sturdy rubber garbage can filled with horse feed and started to fill a plastic bucket for each horse. She was pretty, even at this hour, without makeup and with the bill of that ratty Devon Horse Show baseball cap pulled low.
“When can we start?”
“You’re the boss. Whenever you want.”
Tatalina scampered down the aisle, followed by a determined Nikolai. “And here we have the dastardly kittens,” Grady said, and scooped up the male. “Hi there, little guy.” He scratched the kitten’s ears. He saw a smile flit across Amanda’s face as she measured feed. “What’s his name?”
“Nikolai.”
“I am pleased to be making your acquaintance, comrade,” Grady cooed in a heavy Russian accent as he rubbed the kitten’s ears so that he purred loudly. “The Party would like for you to bite and claw this capitalist pig in her bed.” And he thought how he, too, would enjoy biting this attractive capitalist pig in her bed.
Amanda barked a short laugh, which pleased him. “So,” he said, taking advantage of her smile, “how was your date the other night?”
She paused as she filled the fifth and last bucket. After the tiniest of thaws, Ice Station Zebra returned. “Fine.” Curt. She plunged the scoop into the feed.
Grady leaned against the door of the feed room, cuddling the purring kitten in the crook of his elbow. “Just fine?”
She hung the handles of the buckets on her arm. Grady gently set Nikolai down and took two of the buckets.
“You don’t have to—,” she said.
“Might as well make myself useful. I just dump these?”
“Into their feed tubs.” Over the next minutes they poured feed into the plastic bins in each stall. The horses were waiting, eager to gobble their pellets.
“The date was just fine?” Grady repeated. “McDonald’s drive-through isn’t good enough for you?”
She sighed. “We had a very nice dinner.” She collected his two empty buckets, stacking them with her three. “Thanks for your help.” From the look she launched at him, he knew she wanted nothing more than for him to shut up, but he was having too much fun.
“The girls liked him,” he said. “But then, they have a weakness for drive-through dining.”
This caused her to glare at him. “Luke is likable.” She disappeared into the grain room.
“Luke, huh? Luke what?”
He heard another big sigh, signaling her exasperation. “McCabe.”
“Luke McCabe. Now there’s a name.” Grady imitated a deep-voiced movie trailer announcer as he said, “Luke McCabe. Rider of the range. Shoer of horses. Drive-through aficionado.”
She brushed by him with a wheelbarrow and a shovel.
He continued in his normal voice: “Did he ask you out again? Maybe there’s a special at Denny’s. Have I mentioned how great you smell?”
She opened Rainy’s stall and shoveled soiled shavings into the wheelbarrow parked in the doorway. He leaned against the bars of the stall and looked at her. She sighed copiously. “Yes.”
“Yes he asked you out again, or yes I mentioned how intoxicating you smell?”
Another sigh. “Not that it’s any of your business—”
“Oh, but it is. What if there’s an emergency?”
“I’m sure you could handle it.”
Grady smiled and cocked an eyebrow. “He’s got an awfully big truck. You like guys with big trucks?” He used his Barry White voice. “Does that turn you on?” He was feeling positively wicked now but, man, it was fun.
“Could we talk about something else?”
“Of course. Can I help you with that?”
“No. I have a system,” she said without looking at him.
He grinned, watching her doggedly clean the stall, head down. He said, “Okay, I’ll stop. See you later. Good luck with Luke.” He paused for precisely the right amount of time. “Enjoy that truck.”
Finally she looked at him. A beam of sunlight fell across her eyes, making them glow golden brown and entrance him. It was a movie moment, one that would take a lot of coordination and timing to achieve. She sure was beautiful. In an instant his lust morphed into something more tender. He stared, standing as though stuck in the freshly poured concrete that used to be the barn floor.
She said, “I will, thanks. Tell Jacqueline or me when you want a lesson. Titanium’s a lot of fun.” She turned her head, and the moment was over. “Have a nice day,” she said, dismissing him, and although he ached to stay, he respected her wishes and left.
Luke called that night and they talked for an hour. They went out that Friday for ribs and the evening sped by, punctuated with succulent, smoked meats and effortless conversation. This time Luke mentioned something about a future date, perhaps to a symphony in Aspen.
As they drove up to the barn, however, Amanda felt that ball of clay in her stomach again. Would he want to come up? What was the rule for the second date? She panicked a little because she had to make this relationship last until September, so slow and steady had to be her watchwords. But there was nothing wrong with kissing him, now, was there?
“Walk me to my stairs?” she asked after he opened her door for her. They walked into the barn, hand in hand. “Here we are,” she said when they got to the bottom of the stairs.
“Yep.” He slid his hand behind her head and they out-and-out necked for a while. It was fun, but Amanda didn’t have any inclination to ask him up. When she felt a natural lull in their standing kiss-a-thon, she looked up at him.
“Thanks for tonight. I had a great time.”
“Likewise.”
She nodded.
“Well,” he said, stalling. He looked at her so intensely, she felt herself blush. “You sure are pretty. G’night.” He kissed her again.
“Good night. See you soon.” She started up the stairs as he turned and left the barn.
Maybe she could fall for him. Or maybe he was just a really good kisser.
The week passed in a steady, predictable parade. Solstice and Wave took their lessons in the mornings and sometimes helped Amanda in the afternoons. Amanda did her daily chores and the never-ending work that came with a horse barn. She slathered on sunscreen but still kept the faint farmer’s tan that most horse people had, with the codfish-white legs of a rider. But she also developed a serious bikini body thanks to the strenuous physical labor that went with cleaning stalls, stacking hay, and lugging fifty-pound feed bags. Every time she saw Luke, he commented on how buff she was getting.
She didn’t see Grady much, despite his question about starting lessons on Titanium. His daughters said he was always on the phone or reading scripts. She thought about him more than she wanted to admit. She especially thought about him when she rode Titanium, since she imagined him riding the Friesian, and she trained the horse to respond to an amateur’s ability level.
That Saturday, Amanda chose a sturdy peach tank top to wear with fawn breeches, knowing it would be hot but nothing like the hellishly humid days in Ocala. Solstice was still riding without stirrups, and she continued to impress Amanda with her balance and instincts. She had even begun to jump low obstacles—legally. Wave, too, was progressing nicely, although Amanda was careful not to push her and erode her self-confidence.
After the girls put their horses away, they changed clothes and Amanda drove them to Aspen for lunch at the Ajax Tavern. The girls split one of the famous double cheeseburgers, but even with two appetites on the job, they
couldn’t finish it. After lunch Amanda took them on the Silver Queen Gondola, which they had been watching from the restaurant patio as it relentlessly cruised up and down Aspen Mountain from Gondola Plaza. In the winter it carried skiers and snowboarders so they could plunge down the mostly expert black-diamond runs, but now it ferried mountain bikers and tourists.
The gondola sat six adults. Wave and Solstice sat facing town and Amanda had a view up the mountain. As the gondola began its ascent, Amanda watched Wave’s face whiten. The girl gripped the bench until her knuckles went pale. Solstice saw her sister’s expression and said, “Ooh, Wave, it’s awfully far down. Look, those are the treetops!” The tips of pine trees passed beneath the swaying cube and Wave whimpered.
“That’s enough,” Amanda said. Just then the gondola stopped, dipped, and rocked in the breeze, which whistled through the car. Solstice stood to see what was happening, which made the car move more.
“Quit it,” Wave said, close to tears.
“Sit down,” Amanda said quietly.
“I was just trying to see,” Solstice said.
“They probably had to stop to let someone on or off,” Amanda said. “Solstice, let’s trade places.” Amanda slid next to the small blonde in one efficient move and Solstice sat on the opposite bench by herself. Amanda put her arm around Wave and held her tightly. “Now,” Amanda said, “did they teach you any good songs at that crazy spy camp?”
Solstice took up the challenge, and although Wave never let go of the bench, color came back into her cheeks as she sang along with her sister and Amanda added her soprano. Once at the top of the mountain, they wandered around, looked for deer on the slopes, and pet a friendly old German shepherd. Amanda and the girls drank milk shakes on the sundeck overlooking the resort.
“We’d better get going; your dad will wonder where you are,” Amanda said when it was obvious the girls weren’t going to finish their milk shakes. Amanda had polished hers off easily.
“Yeah, right,” Solstice said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He’s always busy,” Wave said.
“Sometimes we all eat lunch or dinner together, but only if he doesn’t have a meeting or a massage or a stupid phone call.” Solstice spit the words.
“Or has to work out. Or has to read some dumb script. He has lots of scripts,” Wave said.
“Maybe you can talk to him,” Solstice said, with so much hope that Amanda felt a pang.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetie.”
“Please?” Solstice asked. “He’ll listen to you. If we say anything, he says, ‘We are together.’ ” She imitated Grady’s baritone.
“He doesn’t play with us, and he hardly ever reads to us anymore. Remember how he used to read to us?” Wave said in a small voice.
Amanda’s chest tightened. “No promises, you hear? No promises. But I’ll see what I can do.” Good God, what was she signing up for? And what happened to the man who didn’t want his daughters to groom their horses because it would rob him of time with them?
That evening Grady was bench-pressing a challenging amount of weight in his well-appointed gym when his mother called. Estelle Brunswick reminded him she was visiting in August and wanted gift ideas for her grandchildren.
“What do they like? Are they interested in clothes?” She had a completely manufactured accent that was a bizarre combination of a P. G. Wodehouse 1930s dinner party and Jackie Kennedy. Odder still, she hadn’t had it when he was growing up.
“No,” he said, slightly out of breath.
“Dolls?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What do they like to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“But they’re your daughters, darling!”
“Mom, I’m in the middle of something.”
“Are you having sex?”
“Mother!”
“Well, are you? Knowing you, it’s a reasonable assumption.”
“No, Mother, I’m not having sex.” But I wish I were, he added in his head.
“Grady Marcus, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, not knowing your own flesh and blood.”
He hated it when she pulled out his middle name. “I’ll ask them, all right? I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
They said good-bye and hung up. “Shut up, Mom,” he said to a barbell. “Just shut up.”
The following morning an unmarked semi pulled up in front of the house while Amanda was giving Wave her lesson. It was there for more than an hour, then lumbered back down the driveway after barely making the turn around the circular drive. Wave didn’t know anything about the truck, so Amanda figured she’d ask Jacqueline later. Maybe Harris had finally gotten his tanning bed.
After Amanda rode Smooch and Vern, it was time to ride Titanium, or TDH, as she called him—short for Tall, Dark, and Handsome. She settled lightly into the saddle. “Okay, big guy, let’s see what you got today.”
Today she piloted him through circles, transitions, bending, and other basic exercises. As usual, he offered more than she asked. When he was warmed up, she started canter work. She could hear his hoofbeats thud in the sand and a relaxed snort with each stride. Just then, the landscape crew’s truck and trailer growled up the driveway. And backfired.
The Friesian shot forward, leapt, and bucked. Amanda laughed and brought the horse back to a canter. “That scared me, too, buddy.” She stroked his neck. “Easy now. You’re fine.”
Grady had seen it all as he’d walked down the hill to the ring. He’d never seen Amanda ride—as corny as it was, she seemed to be a part of the horse, and Titanium looked . . . “joyful” was the word that sprang to mind. He never thought a horse could look happy, but this one did.
Then the truck backfired. Grady’s heart stopped as Titanium bucked, but within seconds Grady realized Amanda was safe. When he was sure the horse had settled, he leaned his forearms on the fence. Titanium swept by in a long-strided trot, his nose near the ground.
“Hi,” Amanda called as they passed.
“So that’s the horse you want me to ride? Killer?”
“That wasn’t his fault,” she called, still trotting. After a minute she let Titanium walk and rubbed his thick neck. “He’s such a good boy; you’re gonna love him.”
Grady smiled at her obvious affection for the horse. “I thought you were a goner.”
She walked Titanium toward him. “He threw a pretty big buck. It was fun.”
“You and I have different ideas of fun.” She stopped in front of him, her face glowing. He was so used to seeing her agitated, serious, or guarded; he liked seeing her like this. The unbidden thought popped into his head: I want to make her look like this more often. He stepped closer and rubbed the gelding’s face. Titanium predictably pushed against his hand, and Grady rubbed harder.
“Jacqueline said you wanted to ask me something,” he said.
“Yeah, thanks for coming down. I’d like to enter the girls in a horse show at the end of the summer.”
“They want to, I assume?”
“I believe Solstice said it would be ‘super awesome.’ ”
“You think they’re ready?”
“They’ll be more than ready.”
“When? I have that publicity tour—and I want to see them.”
She smiled. “First Sunday in September.”
“I get back that Saturday. So, yeah, that’s okay.”
She grinned. “Great!”
He’d never seen her so luminous.
“They’ll be so happy. You tell them,” she said.
“Isn’t it out of my jurisdiction?”
“They’d love hearing it from you.” She sprang lightly off the horse. She ran up the stirrups, loosened the girth and noseband, and gave Titanium a treat.
“Okay. I’ll see you later,” Grady said, turning to leave.
“Wait!”
Grady stopped, turned, and looked at her.
Amanda’s serious facade ha
d set up shop again. “I have to talk to you about something else—it won’t take long—thirty minutes, tops. Should I ask Jacqueline, or can you tell me when you’re free?”
A brief discussion later, they had an appointment for ten o’clock that night.
Amanda hosed off Titanium and gave him dinner. Piano music wafted from the house, and she found herself humming along as she fed the horses. She often sang to them when she was alone; sometimes she even sang while she rode, if the tempo of the gait conjured a song in her head. Her repertoire was standards and show tunes—Gershwin, Porter, Rodgers and Hammerstein—songs she had learned from albums her father had played when she was growing up. She sang because she enjoyed it, believed the horses benefited, and it made her chores go faster. And she sang because it made her think of her dad, who had died of a heart attack a decade earlier.
Amanda rehearsed what she would say to Grady in her head, in front of the bathroom mirror, to the horses, and in the shower. She couldn’t imagine the talk would go well; she had to point out a fault—again—and this time she wasn’t on pain meds. But she reminded herself this wasn’t about her; it was about Wave and Solstice. So she had to cowboy up.
“Off to face the lions,” Amanda said to the night at nine fifty-five. As she marched up the hill to the house, she heard piano music. Stepping inside, she knew immediately it was live. Where was the piano? Who was playing? Intrigued, she followed the sound into the main room and looked up. There, in the loft area, was a shiny new baby grand.
Grady was playing. Beautifully. He plays the piano. He wasn’t just a pretty face, a famous action hero, and supposed world-class playboy. What else would she discover about him? He’d been an advisor at the UN and performed heart transplants as a hobby? She crept up the stairs and stood behind him, watching his fingers skim over the keys, his long body rocking slightly in rhythm. He was completely immersed in the music. If they were dating, she would slip her arms around him and kiss his neck until he couldn’t play anymore. But they weren’t dating. Never would. So she instructed her mind to focus on the odious task at hand.