Even if she might also be the personification of evil.
I know for a fact I’ve never seen her before, and I’m so zoned in to watching her that I don’t notice the match on the field has ended. It’s only when she slows down and jumps off her pony to collect all the balls she’s launched around the arena that I turn around to find my siblings watching me with amusement on their faces.
“Did Foxleigh get awarded the England’s Cup match yet?” asks Alex, conciliatorily, which I take as his version of an apology for trying to wind me up. He knows I’ll take any opportunity to talk about it.
I shake my head, reaching for my beer. “Not yet. The decision isn’t made until January.”
“Cool. Fingers crossed.” Alex nods, stands, and holds his hand out to Haven, who follows. “We’re going back to the baby. We’ll see you lot tomorrow for New Year’s Eve.” He grins at Clementine, followed by Hendricks, and finally me. “I expect you to be in a better mood by then.”
“I’m not in a mood,” I snap, all evidence pointing to the contrary.
Alex’s question about the England’s Cup provided only a temporary reprieve from my growing annoyance at the red-headed rider. I can’t decide if it’s worse that she’s incredibly skilled or not. In my defense, I’m rarely in a bad mood, but I’m tired and slightly hungover. Not to mention the moods I’ve had to put up with from Alex over the past year when he thought he’d never see Haven again. It was annoying at best, and the days he was really miserable served as a reminder of why my heart only belongs to my horses. Plus a couple of dogs.
Usually, I put great value on what life has to offer and see the good in every day. While I’m rarely awake in time to witness the sun rise, one of my favorite things is to watch the sun set over the valley in Valentine Nook. I hold a deep appreciation for thesmell of freshly laid hay in a clean stable and the company of a beautiful woman.
Except one who tries to murder me in broad daylight.
My annoyance is on the rise again as Hendricks gets up from his chair and drops next to me on the sofa, twisting his body to look onto the field. “Did you find her?”
“Yup,” I say, jumping up and pulling on my coat.
“Where are you going?”
“To pay her a little visit. Wanna come?”
“Nope. But I’ll be waiting when you return.”
“Suit yourself.”
I take off, making my way out of the clubhouse and down the steps toward the stables. My blood heats again with every step I take, my feet crunching the remains of the snow shoveled off the path. I pass the spot in the hedge I fell into, and the dent I’ve left behind, and my rage increases.
The stables are a hive of activity when I storm through. Grooms are readying ponies, and teams are strategizing for the later matches, while the sweet scent of hay and manure fills the air.
It’s something that usually calms me, but not today.
Peering into each stall, stopping briefly to say hello to any pony inside, I’m no closer to finding my wannabe assassin until the noise of water spray hitting the concrete floor drags my attention to what I’m looking for.WhoI’m looking for.
The shock of plaited, thick auburn hair flops over her shoulder while she cools her pony’s legs.
“Found you,” I spit. “You nearly killed me back there. Do you want to explain what the fuck you're playing at? The sign clearly said no ponies.”
I wait for the apology she owes me. Then I’ll decide how much she needs to grovel, but she’s yet to turn around.
It takes her so long to answer, I’m about to repeat myself at a much,muchlouder volume. If she’s trying to rile me, it’s worked. The reputation I’ve built on nonchalance is dangerously close to cracking.
“Did I?” she drawls eventually.
“Yes—”
“And the sign said no ponies?”
“Yes!”
“Oh. My bad.”
What the fuck? “Yourbad?”
She shifts and moves the hose to her pony’s hind quarters, and his nostrils flare. He doesn’t like it. My fists clench. If I saw a groom hosing their pony like this atmyyard, I’d lose my shit. It’s too cold, and she shouldn’t be hosing him down at all.
