by CM Foss
“I understand.”
“Thank you.”
“And will you eat tonight?”
“I always eat.” I looked down at the platters of chicken with gravy in trepidation. Oh God. More grease.
“Not enough.”
“I will have some, but Mom, you know I can’t sit around eating this crap and expect to make weight.”
“I know. But one meal won’t hurt.”
I shook my head as I followed her to the table. I felt like I’d heard that before.
Chapter 27
I stopped short when I reached the entrance to the formal dining room and saw the seating arrangements. Of course I was seated next to Jace. Boy, girl, boy, girl, and you don’t sit next to your date or significant other. It stifles conversation. That’s what my mom would say and clearly executed. My parents would sit at either end of the long, rectangular table. All the girls were seated, the men were standing, waiting for my mother and me. Everyone was chatting merrily while we fetched all the plates and set them down. No one seemed to notice my tight smile and lack of conversation. Except Jace, whom I felt watching me off and on.
My dad gallantly helped my mom into her seat, kissing her cheek as she settled herself. He whispered something in her ear that made her laugh out loud and swat at him with her napkin. I smiled, despite my discomfort and the fact that everyone was waiting on me.
I lifted my hair off my neck, giving it a shake to allow some cool air on my skin, and walked slowly around the table, dragging my feet. I still felt watched as I set my plate down.
Drew was watching my plate; Jace was watching me. Both were making me squirm. Drew looked pointedly at what I considered a small amount of gravy next to my chicken, and back up at me with an arched eyebrow. I glared hard at him, daring him to say something. We stayed in that silent war for a moment longer before he returned to conversation with Jeanine, giving me one last warning look.
I was prepared for another scoot war as the backs of my knees touched my chair, but instead squeaked as Jace picked up my chair, scooping me into it and settling it into position.
“You need girl lessons,” he mumbled under his breath as all the men sat.
I scoffed and turned to him, but when I saw his face, his teasing smirk, my indignation melted. A little. I shook out my napkin and placed it in my lap. “I’ve had girl lessons.”
He snorted and it made me break out in a grin. He smiled back and I stared stupidly at him.
“Are we done fighting?” he asked.
I pursed my lips, considering. “I don’t know. I’m still mad.”
“Well, I’m still mad at you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Because I feel like it.”
I frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t either.”
He took a sip from his water glass, and I leaned over to whisper into his ear. “Are you on your period?”
I sat back with a satisfied smirk when he choked, immediately bringing his napkin up to his face to catch the water. The table, once full of background noise, went silent in concern and curiosity. I patted Jace on the back and looked around.
“Wrong pipe.” I nodded.
After a beat, the chatter resumed and Jace worked to regain his breath. I happily dug into my meal, taking small bites and ignoring Drew’s narrowed gaze. I’d already declined wine. I was going to lick a little gravy and enjoy my mom’s cooking, whether he liked it or not.
Sitting to my right was Chrissy’s soon-to-be father-in-law, who pulled me into a conversation about my riding. That was the fun part about Lexington. Even non–horse people loved to talk about racing. Which was good because I didn’t have much else to say.
We talked tracks and trainers, breeding and the future of the sport, his lively questions keeping me entertained and distracted from the man on my left, until I felt him. First I felt his hand on my knee, and my breath hitched. Then I felt his fingers brush along the seam of my jeans along my inner thigh, and my heart raced. He pressed harder, tracing it up until I stopped him by crossing my legs, trapping his hand. I thought he would withdraw. Or continue to tease. But all he did was squeeze my thigh gently and then leave his hand there, relaxed and casual. Almost normal.
I stared down at my nearly empty plate. Nothing about this night was normal.
Feeling Drew’s glare, along with Jace’s hand, suddenly it was all too much. I shoved my chair back, nearly toppling it in my haste. Heads swiveled in attention.
I cleared my throat, laughing a little to cover my awkwardness. “Sorry. I, ah, I just realized what time it is. I have to be up in a few hours so…”
I walked to the head of the table and gave my dad a kiss on the cheek, ignoring the way his forehead was wrinkled up. I did the same with my mom and then waved good-bye to everyone else and darted out of the house.
I breathed a big sigh of relief as I hit the coolness of the evening air. The sun was just starting to set, which made my early exit even weirder. I slumped on the front step, hanging my head between my knees, dinner threatening to beat a hasty retreat as well. I gulped air, over and over, swallowing hard, saliva pooling in my mouth and my eyes watering.
But then I knew, without a doubt, that no amount of wishing or pretending was going to keep my food down. I rushed down the front steps and around the back of one of the trees framing the house and fell forward to brace my arms on its branches.
I’d like to say it was one of those somewhat elegant pukes you see in the movies. The ones where the girl delicately dabs at her lips with the back of her hand, brushes her hair off her face, and goes on about her day.
This was not that.
This was straining and heaving and squinting and just fucking gross. I tried to pretend I was somewhere else, someone else. I closed my eyes against the sight of my mother’s hard work coming back up. What tasted so good earlier was now… not.
I was never eating again.
But when I was empty and raw and well and truly done, I stood, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and brushed my hair from my face. I straightened my shirt and stumbled around to sit back down on the steps and catch my breath. Digging around in my pocket, I found my gum. Why I still had this crappy stuff, and no minty anything, was beyond me. But I slipped a piece between my teeth and chewed.
I concentrated on the chewing, the squeeze and release. I concentrated on not puking again, the flavor of stale, made-in-a-lab cake making my taste buds protest.
The door opened behind me and I stiffened. Jace sat down beside me, close enough that our sides were brushing. Despite my confusion, I leaned into him, savoring the warmth and the hardness of his body.
“You okay?”
I nodded, staring off into the brilliant orange of the sun contrasting against the swirls of clouds.
“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”
“Probably not.”
He nodded as well, hands clasped in front of him as he rested his elbows on his knees. “Can we try for our movie night tomorrow, just us? I’ll find something funny… or something.”
My eyes stung with unshed tears, exhaustion falling over me in a wave. But I nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
He reached over and squeezed my hand. “How’s the gum?”
“It tastes like cancer.”
He snorted and shifted to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, then raked his fingers into the strands, gripping it firmly to my scalp. I sucked in a breath as he pressed a kiss to my forehead, then released me just before the front door opened again. I looked over my shoulder to see Drew standing, coat flung over his shoulder, his jaw flexing as looked down at us.
“Thought you were headed home.”
“I am.” I stood and stretched. “See ya tomorrow, Pimp-Daddy.”
I glanced down at Jace, who looked up at me, a light in his eyes that I couldn’t read but didn’t want to look away from. His lips were pressed together but one corner of his mouth quirked up a touc
h.
“Later, Midge.”
Chapter 28
The next morning I was running late for the umpteenth time, so I skipped breakfast and drove straight to the track.
My first horse was tacked and waiting, and a groom brought him straight out as I entered the barn. He gave me a leg up with just one hand, lightly springing me up and into the saddle. The colt I was riding danced around, arching his neck and nipping at the leather of his reins. I flicked them out of his reach and he shook his head, ears flapping noisily. I laughed at his antics and reached up, ruffling the mane all the way up. That caused him to hop into the air and smack his feet on the dirt.
“He feels good today,” the groom said in broken English.
“Let’s just hope he doesn’t feel too good.” I grinned as we trotted off toward the track.
The trainer for this horse called out my instructions as I passed him on my way onto the track. I nodded in acknowledgement, rising up in my stirrups as I allowed the colt to shift gears into a canter. Twice around we went, the horse chuffing against the restraint of the reins the entire first mile. He snorted and hopped and tugged and flipped his nose when he could; all the while I remained as still as possible, knuckles pressed into his withers as he sorted himself out. By the second mile, he’d settled nicely, relaxed and happy to hold his pace.
I pulled him up with a pat on his sweat-slick neck, and he once again snaked his head around, seemingly proud of himself. I blew out a breath with a laugh as we rode back to the barn. This was something I enjoyed. It was what I was good at and what made it all worth it. Sitting on these horses, getting to know their personalities from the barn to the track, seeing them grow and learn, watching them race, and especially getting to race them.
I had a tendency to get too emotionally attached, for a jockey anyway. If it were up to me, I’d spend more time getting horses prepared for their careers, actually train them and not just condition them.
However, it was not currently up to me. I did the bidding of the trainer, some good, some not so good. When you rode as many horses as I did, you saw all kinds, of people and of horses. And when it was how you made your living, you learned to deal with the good and the bad.
Someday though I’d have my own barn, and when someone was looking for a trainer with an eye for detail, who cared and who took time to really get to know each horse, they’d come to me. My ideas weren’t for everybody, but that was fine by me.
“Hey, little girl!” A strong Puerto Rican accent broke me out of my thoughts.
“Hey, Nacho,” I called back, inwardly chuckling. Here we go.
He jogged up beside me, flapping his arms as he talked and laughed, dangerously close to dropping his reins. His horse jigged and pranced, feeding off his energy. “Hey, baby.” He nodded. “I put my teeth in for you again.” His smile downright glittered with false teeth, his eyebrows waggling like caterpillars. “You been wearin’ my present?”
“No I have not. And while I sort of appreciate the gesture, I will not wear it.”
He clasped a hand over his chest, throwing his head back. “Aw, girl. You break my heart.”
“It’s lingerie, Nacho. Mesh. Lingerie.”
Javier chose that moment to ride up from the opposite direction, rudely slipping between our horses as he headed back to the barns. “Lingerie? You never wore that shit for me, baby,” he called out.
“You weren’t worth the effort, dickhead,” I shot back.
Nacho ignored Javi, sending him nothing more than a dirty look, lowered his voice and dipped his head over to me. “You look good, girl. I see you. You don’t gotta wear it for nobody else.”
I snorted and picked up a steady trot, leaving him behind. “You tell that to your wife?”
“Aw, girl,” he yelled, groaning loudly but laughing. “Why you gotta bring her up?”
I laughed, shaking my head all the way back to the barn where I hopped out of the saddle and was tossed up into another one almost immediately.
The next few hours followed the same vein. Up, down, around and around. Laughter, ribbing, pranks, the occasional galloping ass grab. The busyness of the morning kept my mind off the fact that I hadn’t eaten. Only in the quiet moments, of which there were few, did my stomach protest.
By the last ride of the morning, I was sweaty and dirty and starting to feel the effects of the night before. I found a few Skittles in the bottom of my duffle bag, which was frightening because I couldn’t remember buying them, but I popped them in my mouth anyway, hoping a little sugar rush would get me by.
The colt I was riding was big and boxy, his neck seeming as thick as it was long. He kept trying to bite at his reins and latched onto the martingale that was looped onto them. I’d never ridden the horse before, but I didn’t like the feel of him biting that thing. I asked the groom if we could take it off so the horse didn’t hook a tooth on it. The man shrugged and unbuckled the girth so we could slip off the yoke. We worked together to slide it off each rein quickly so I could knot them again, tighten the saddle, and be on my way. The colt jigged and pranced and still tried to bite the reins all the way up to the track.
We jogged around the back and turned around. I stood high in my stirrups and let him bounce around beneath me. He flipped his head around some, but nothing terrible. I relaxed, halfway zoning out as we galloped around. The track was quiet toward the end of the day, that being ten in the morning. It’s all relative.
All I needed to do to finish up was ride one more time around the oval, and I could head back to the barn and lie flat in the box for a while. Which would suck, but maybe I could get a little rest while I was there. Before my big date tonight.
A date. When was the last time I’d had one of those?
Lost in my thoughts, a little foggy, I missed the signs. The head flipping, the hollowing of the back, the tightening of the neck. Before I realized what was happening, ears were in my face and the horse was off like a rocket. My exercise saddle slipped off to the left, then to the right, both my feet popping out of the stirrups as it did so. I was in shock, my mind racing and scrambling to catch up with the rest of my body. The saddle slid back, the girth useless around the colt’s belly as he sucked it in and stretched out. I somehow wound up in front of the saddle, perched at the base of his neck as his hooves thundered below me.
The ground was moving underneath us at an alarming rate, and I had the moment of decision to bail or figure out how to ride this out. Everything else around me faded to background, just a blur. With the speed we were going, landing on the dirt seemed like a very bad idea. I gripped the colt’s neck and pushed myself back into a better position, the saddle now resting on his ass, the girth looped around his flanks. As it tickled and irritated him, he arched his back and began hopping, an incredible feat during the gallop. I kept one rein up in the air, preventing him from getting his head any lower, which was what he needed to truly buck, but every time I pulled on the reins, I would slip forward on his sleek, well-groomed coat.
Finally he began to slow, taking a deep breath I could feel through my thighs. I thanked God for all my years of riding bareback, because that was the only reason I’d survived that train wreck of events. Though I’d not had that particular experience before, nor did I wish to have it again.
Once the colt had down-geared to a reasonable canter, I leapt off, keeping ahold of the reins to bring him to a walk. I rushed to unbuckle the girth and remove his saddle, tossing it aside. It was then that the adrenaline hit me, the shakes overtaking my body. I sat heavily on the ground by the outside rail, aware of the cars driving to fetch me or check on me.
Drew was the first to reach me, a scowl on his handsome face. “Holy shit, Tessa. What was that?”
I began to laugh, hysterical giggles bubbling up from my chest.
“I don’t know. The saddle started slipping and all hell broke loose.”
“Did you tighten the girth?”
I dropped my hands and leveled him with a stare. “Of course
I did.”
“Well, where the hell is the yoke?”
I sighed and scratched the horse’s nose as he came to investigate the weirdo sitting in his office. “He was biting at it, so I took it off.”
“Well shit, jockey, you’d better ask next time.”
I stood on shaky legs, feeling at high risk of them collapsing into jelly, but I’d die before I let on to anyone that I was anything less than fine.
“I’m sorry. That was all just… bad. I’m sorry.”
“Are you okay?”
I jolted at his question. It wasn’t one I often heard from him. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“You’re white as a ghost.”
I started to lead the horse back as Drew picked up my discarded tack. “Well, I just aged about forty years. Could be that.”
He let out a breath of laughter. “I have to admit, that was some damn good riding.”
My lips twisted. “Yeah, after the fact. If I was really riding well, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place.”
“True. You’re about to get ribbed to all fuck in the barns. You ready?”
I snorted. “Do I have a choice?”
“Not really.” He smiled, then grew serious. “Look, I know I get on you about your weight and eating. But seriously, have you eaten today? You don’t look good.”
I gave a swift shake of my head, chewing on the end of my whip.
He sighed. “Tessa.”
“I know. Drew, I know.”
“You gotta be smart. You almost got really hurt out there. And if you didn’t get hurt, that half-a-million-dollar specimen you’re holding could have. You have a responsibility to too many people to fuck this up.”
Chapter 29
I groaned when I pulled up to my house to see that red truck again. Somehow I’d forgotten about our date, and that made me a horrible person. I was cranky and hungry and tired and almost to the brink of tears. I sniffled and smacked my palm onto the steering wheel to jolt myself out of my funk.