Taking The Reins (The Rosewoods Book 1) (14 page)

My eyes filled with tears as I thought about losing my one chance at a rest. Not normally a crier, I was shocked, but figured the exhaustion was catching up with me. Fighting the tears, I took a deep breath and nodded.

“You okay?” he asked. He was so intuitive—something I was sure either came from being around horses so much or maybe was something he was born with that made him such an exceptional rider, though I hadn’t yet had the pleasure of seeing him in action.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m fine. I’m just a bit tired. It’s been a long week and I was sort of looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow.” Many Rosewoods had their CSAs to catch up on over the weekend, but since mine had been fulfilled in the laundry through the week, I’d been granted a day off to do as I pleased. And what I pleased was sleeping in and then spending some quality time in the aquatic center’s whirlpool to ease my overworked body. Also, I had a mountain of homework to catch up on.

Brady smiled. “You can sleep in. I have my own training in the early morning. If you meet me at the stables by eleven, that will give us a solid couple of hours before we have to get out of the way for the afternoon leisure riders.”

I exhaled. “Okay. But as long as you promise me you’re not cutting your training short to help me. I do not want to be the reason Westwood’s favorite Olympian only gets a silver medal.”

He snorted. “I’m not the school’s favorite Olympian.” He nodded toward the group of boys hanging around Chelly. “Jenkins is the star here.”

Surprised that I’d actually met
two
future Olympians, I asked, “What’s his sport? Not another equestrian?”

Brady shook his head. “No. Diving. If all goes well, we’ll be at the games together, but nowhere near the same sport.”

I thought about them traveling together—it would be nice to have a familiar face during what must be a crazy stressful time. “Are you friends?”

Brady looked away from me, but not at the group of boys. It was like he had to think about his answer before he said, “Not really. I mean, we respect each other as athletes, and he’s top notch in his sport. But friends? No.”

I nodded, feeling awkward for having asked. My eyes drifted down to his suit jacket pocket and noticed something. “Why don’t you have a pocket square?”

“Pardon?”

I looked around the gym. “Most of the other guys have pocket squares. A lot in really bright colors. You don’t have one.”

He looked out at the crowd over my shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m sure it’s something stupid. Anyway,” he said, seemingly eager to change the subject. “About the Olympics. I’ll be lucky to get a silver.”

“Suffering a bout of lagging confidence, Coach Fleming?” I teased.

But his face got serious. “No, not lagging confidence, just being realistic. I’m good...okay, some might say
great
,” he paused, looking a little embarrassed, which I have to admit was way sexy. “But I’m not gold medal material. I know that, and it’s okay,” he quickly added when I opened my mouth to protest.

“Really, Brooklyn. Not everyone can win, but to move up my ranking or even get a bronze or silver? That would be a dream come true.”

“But shouldn’t you aim for the top?”

He shrugged, making my arms slide against his neck again, a movement I tried to ignore, though futilely. I swallowed, cursing my suddenly dry throat.

“I’m aiming for a personal best. It’d be different if I competed in marathons or a team sport with an obvious opponent on the field with me. But you know as well as I do that equestrian is different; your partner doesn’t care about medals or acclaim or the millions of people watching. If Albatross has a bad day, I’m screwed. But I will hope we have a great day and I make no errors. That we’re in sync and the magic happens. That’s what it’s really about.”

“Your horse’s name is Albatross?” I asked.

He nodded, smiling. “I’ll get to see him soon.”

“Oh?”

“He’ll be here in less than a week. Well, not here, exactly. The stables where I train are about twenty miles from here.”

The smile on his face was so open, genuine, I could tell exactly how he felt about his horse and reuniting with him. “You’ve missed him,” I said.

He nodded. “Very much. The other horses at the training center are excellent, but it’s not the same. The partnership a rider builds with his horse, it’s special, almost...”

He had a dreamy look on his face. “Do not say you’re in love with your horse,” I said.

The corner of his mouth turned up and he squeezed where he was holding my hips. “No, not quite. But
you
ride, I’m sure you get it.”

I did, but it was fun to tease him. I scrunched up my face. “Yeah, well. Don’t be
that
guy, Brady. Don’t be the guy who loves his horse too much.”

The smile dissolved from his face as he said, “I won’t, Brooklyn. I promise.” Which sounded like he was responding to something more than my lame joke. He looked at me then, intense like before, his eyes holding mine as he seemed to search my soul. Overwhelmed by it, I broke the gaze, looking over his shoulder, willing my heart to stop pounding.

The song began to mix into a fast one and I realized we’d danced for not one, but two slow songs.

“Thanks, Brady,” I said as we stepped apart.

“Tomorrow at eleven?” he asked as we walked toward my friends.

I nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Brooklyn,” he said, stopping me in my tracks before we got to the edge of the dance floor.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for dancing with me. If you’ll notice,” he paused, moving only his eyes toward the group of faculty, but not his head, not even a twitch. “The dean has her eyes on me, so I can’t ask you to dance again tonight. But I want you to know it’s not because I don’t want to.”

And with that, he left me.

T
he only thing holding me up two and a half hours later, long after Brady had left the gym, was the caffeine I’d ingested thanks to several sodas, and the resultant trips to the restroom. I was too tired physically to dance and too drained emotionally to care that I was standing by myself while my friends sucked every moment of joy they could out of their evening at Westwood.

“How you doing?” Kaylee asked from my left, startling me.

“Kaylee,” I said. “When did you get back from the bathroom?”

She gave me an amused, wide-eyed look. “Twenty minutes ago. You asleep standing up there, Brooklyn?”

I exhaled. “Yes. Pretty much. Sorry I’m not very good company tonight.”

“It’s okay. You’ve had a rough week. And anyway, it’s been a good night; I’m just standing here sort of reliving it. Which seems lame, but I don’t care.”

I looked at her and smiled. “We did both dance with hot guys, huh?”

She smiled back. “We did. I mean, it was kind of crazy how it happened, but yeah. And Declan...” she fanned her face, loudly blowing out a breath.

Laughing, I looked out at the crowd again, trying to find him. “Where did he go? He didn’t leave early, did he?”

She shook her head. “No. He’s over there with the guys.”

I looked back out on the dance floor where a bunch of guys were fast dancing. “Why aren’t you out there with them?”

Kaylee shrugged. “I’m not much of a fast dancer. And anyway, I didn’t want to seem desperate. This kind of thing doesn’t come easily to me, in case you hadn’t noticed. I’m not Chelly.”

Speaking of which... I glanced out and easily found Seychelles in her siren red dress. She was in the middle of the dance floor, again, surrounded by guys like moths to her flame. “Wow. She really knows how to work it,” I said, watching her laugh and interact with the boys like she was having the best time of her life. She probably was, I told myself.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Kaylee said, as awed as I was. “She makes it look so effortless.”

“I think it
is
effortless for her. She’s just one of those girls that oozes confidence. I mean, look around: she doesn’t have the best body or the best hair, and I’m not trying to be mean at all, she just...”

“She’s got it all,” Kaylee finished, nodding. “That confidence is everything. Not too many people could even pull off that dress, but she totally owns it.”

“So who’s
she
after?” I tried to watch and see if she paid any special attention to any of the guys in particular, but she seemed to be an equal-opportunity flirter.

“I’ve never seen her date one guy exclusively.”

I frowned at Kaylee. “Really?”

“Nope. Not for lack of offers. I mean, look at those guys sniffing around her. She’s just a free spirit, I guess.”

I looked back at Chelly, a little bit envious. Not that I wanted to be at the center of a group of guys who seemed to all want me.

Right.
Who was I trying to kid? “Wow. She’s kind of living the dream.”

Kaylee leaned into me and nudged me with her shoulder. “You know it, sister.”

Scanning the crowd, I saw Emmie and Celia dancing among a group of guys also. Dave was right there with Emmie and I felt a huge pang of guilt and looked away from them.

“What about Celia? She got her eye on anyone?”

Kaylee looked out toward her roommate and shrugged. “She was into Steve Collins last year, but he’s so busy with football and she’s got her basketball practice...And,” she added, leaning closer to me. “Between us, her academics aren’t great. She needs to spend more time on studying or she’s going to end up on notice by the dean.”

I nodded, but was still curious what kind of guy Celia’d be into. “Is Steve here?”

She took a drink from her soda, but her eyes scanned the crowd. “Up in the bleachers. Short brown hair, no neck—your typical football jock.”

That described four of the guys on the bleachers.

“The one on the end,” Kaylee added, obviously reading my mind.

“And you?”

She looked at me. “And me, what?”

“You seemed to have a nice time dancing with Dylan.”

“Declan,” she corrected. “And I did. He’s sweet.”

“And hot,” I added.

“So hot,” she agreed. “So...”

“Irish? Tall? Nice?”

Kaylee turned to me and grinned. “The list goes on and on, doesn’t it?”

“It does. If you ask me, which you didn’t, but I’m going to pretend you did anyway, he’s a way better choice than that Phillip douche.”

She sighed. “I know. But Phillip, I don’t know, there’s something about him.”

“Yes. He’s an asshole.”

“Exactly. Why do we like the wrong boys?”

I looked out at the crowd, my eyes landing on Dave. “I have no idea.”

~♥~

I
t wasn’t much later that the DJ announced the last set of songs for the night. “Thank God,” I muttered, glad that we’d be out of there and on the bus in ten minutes or so. I was desperate for my bed.

But then, as I was about to turn to Kaylee and let her know I was going to take one more trip to the restroom, I saw a guy coming straight for me, his eyes trained on me like I was a deer and he was a cougar. I swallowed and felt like I should turn and run, but that was ridiculous, and anyway, I didn’t have time to move away.

It was the guy Dave had been talking to earlier when Emmie’d introduced me as her roommate. He seemed older than the other guys, but it had to be because he was bigger, with broader shoulders, and had dark, swarthy stubble and the long tied-back hair—though his green eyes still seemed very young. Something about him was familiar, but I was sure I’d never met him before—I’d definitely remember meeting this guy.

And then he was there in front of me, just inside my personal space, making me back up into the pillar behind me. He was so tall that I had to lean back to look up at his face. He smelled amazing, like the most perfect musk cologne had mingled with his own smell, enveloping my senses as I stood there. But more demanding of my attention was that he was standing there, smiling mischievously, making me no longer feel like prey, but more like a soon-to-be co-conspirator in some sort of plot.

Somehow, in something like four seconds, this guy had me completely and utterly intrigued.

And breathless.

“Hi,” he said, his voice deep and smooth.  “Brooklyn, right?”

Wow.
I nodded, my brain unable to access words at that very moment.

“Dance?” he asked, holding out his hand.

I glanced over at Kaylee, who gave me an encouraging look, which was all I needed. I nodded again and slid my hand into the boy’s.

“I’m Abe,” he said as we walked out to the dance floor.

“Nice to meet you,” I forced out of my mouth. And then thought of all the other Westwood guys I’d met, not wanting any other misunderstandings. I looked at him sideways. “Wait, first name or last name?”

He gave me a confused look as we stopped at an empty spot on the floor. He put his big, warm hands on me, but he was so tall they landed not on my waist, but on my sides, right over my bra. I tried to put that fact out of my brain, but blushed fiercely anyway.

He tilted his head. “So, you don’t know?”

Don’t know what?
I smiled at him. “I’m the new girl, so you can assume I don’t know anything.”  I couldn’t reach around his neck comfortably, so I held onto the backs of his biceps, my forearms supported by his arms. I tried not to get distracted by how muscular he was. Not an easy task, but I tried to focus on his pink pocket square at my eye level, realizing quickly that if I stayed focused on his face, I was going to finish the dance with a very sore neck.

He turned his head like he was surveying the rest of the couples on the dance floor and then blew out a breath. “I’m Jared Abromovich, but you probably would know me as Abrams.”

My brain stuttered for a moment as it tried to compute: Jared Abrams.

And then it clicked. “From that show
Lady Parts
?”

He nodded, his smile faltering a little and I suddenly felt bad. Jared Abrams had been a child actor. At one time, he was the
it
kid of network TV, starring in that really popular sitcom about two women who ran an automotive garage; he was one of the women’s kids. He’d grown up on that show and I even remembered some episodes in about the fifth season when his voice changed and cracked all the time—it had to be so hard growing up in the spotlight. As my hands barely circled halfway around his arms, he hardly looked like little Ricky from the show anymore. I had to think that wasn’t an accident.