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“When they leave here,” Reyes added, “they’ve been transitioned into new careers in jumping, hunting, dressage, trail riding, pleasure driving—whatever we discover best suits them.”
Still irritated over the whole situation, she snipped, “So what…are you supposed to be a horse whisperer or something?”
He dropped his gaze as he lifted a shoulder. “The horses respond to me. Always have.”
Like Fire in the trailer. “And how many riders have you worked with?”
“You would be the first.”
“Perfect.” Her dad was putting her Olympic hopes in the hands of a guy with no professional experience at all. “How could this go wrong?”
He lifted his gaze once more, long dark lashes shadowing his eyes. “I saw the tapes of your last two events. Whatever you were doing back home wasn’t working. If you ask me, you’ve got nothing to lose.”
“Well, I didn’t ask you, did I?”
“Technically, you did.”
“That was a rhetorical question. You do know what rhetorical means, don’t you?”
He smirked at her sarcasm before jumping down from the fence to stride toward one of the jumps. She watched as he put the rails in the cups and then moved on to the next one.
Good. About damn time they got down to real work.
When the last rail was in place, he raised a hand over his head and swiveled his wrist in a circle to indicate she should get started. Despite wanting the real jumps, her nerves tingled to life as she urged Fire forward. Once around the arena to loosen him up, because her tension from the exchange with Reyes was making him antsy.
Way number one it would go wrong—the guy annoyed the hell out of her and made her nervous. Which made her horse nervous. Not a good combination.
Stop thinking about him.
Focus on Fire. Focus on the jumps.
Imagine walking into the Olympic stadium with the U.S. Equestrian Team, the American flag rippling in all its glory above your head.
Her dad had painted that picture with her so often over the years, the image sprang to life with ease.
Another half-round at an easy canter settled her and Fire into the familiar rhythm that had gotten them to the top, so she reined him onto the course. Over the next h
alf-hour, Reyes directed them through a multitude of combinations. Other than the called out instructions, he simply watched. His intense scrutiny was really starting to mess with her head, especially when for the third time in a row, Fire refused an easy one meter vertical.
“You’re breaking the rhythm,” Reyes called out, shaking his head.
“He won’t go over the jump.”
“Because you’re telling him not to.”
“I am not.”
“You’re easing up on approach, sending mixed signals, and it’s throwing him off. He doesn’t know what you want him to do.”
Just like Charlie, he was blaming her for Fire’s refusal. Her jaw ached from the force of her clenched teeth. How did no one understand what the fall had done to him? He was afraid. It was going to take time for him to get over it and get his confidence back. She knew her horse better than they did, damn it.
“He needs a break,” she announced. And so did she.
Before Reyes could disagree with her, she swung her leg over and dismounted. She didn’t get more than two strides toward the gate when he moved into their path.
He held out his hand, palm up. “Give me the reins.”
“I can take care of him myself.”
