Pas de deux Page 6

  Amid an uncomfortable silence, I ran through a dozen openers and discarded each one. Out of desperation, I looked around, hoping for inspiration. At the back of the stall, a large laminated picture of a tuxedo-coat cat had been fastened with zip ties to the vertical bars that made up the top half. I pointed. “That’s Rasputin right? Dewey’s feline best friend?”

  Surprise flashed over Caitlyn’s face. “Yes. How’d you know that?”

  “I follow your social media accounts. The cat door in Dewey’s stall back home is adorable.” Shit. I hadn’t meant to let slip the fact I was one of her followers. Before the conversation could move into awkward territory at that revelation, I turned slightly to the side and started scratching Dewey’s chest. He curled his head around to bump my shoulder with his nose and I felt the unmistakable sensation of him playing with the back of my shirt. I’d read interviews where Caitlyn spoke about what a quirky, affectionate, and personable horse he was, and it seemed she was right on the money. I stroked his face then gestured at the bare stalls either side of Dewey’s. “He doesn’t like other horses?”

  “He likes them too much. We’ve learned that having him pulling blankets over the eyes of an expensive Warmblood doesn’t endear him to people, so he has to be on his own like a social outcast whenever we can get the space. Big competitions are a nightmare, I usually have to request a stallion box with extra-high walls.”

  “So that’s where the arrogance comes from? He’s always put with the stallions so he thinks he’s one too?”

  Her eyebrows shot up and I thought I saw the ghost of a smile. A small win. “Could be. Most likely it’s just him. He knows he’s the best horse in my barn.”

  “And half of one of the best teams in the world too,” I pointed out.

  She flushed, as if the idea of being so good, of nipping at the heels of the top horse and rider combinations on the Grand Prix circuit was embarrassing for her. “I’m just lucky to have him.”

  I murmured my agreement and placed my tablet down on top of my bag so I could settle my stethoscope in my ears. “Could you hold him still please?”

  Caitlyn kept him from nuzzling me as I checked his heart and lung and gut sounds. “I’ll just take his temperature.” To Dewey I apologized, “Sorry, pal. The thermometer’s been in my pocket so at least it’ll be warm.” All his vitals were normal and I recorded each one in his file, then backed up a few steps. “Can you take him out closer to the entrance where the light’s good so I can get some clear body and limb shots?”

  She did as I asked and held him while I first studied his general condition and muscling—excellent and with no noticeable evidence of overuse on one side or body part indicating he was compensating due to pain. Not that I would have expected anything of the sort with an elite athlete. I took photos of his body, all four limbs from multiple angles, as well as his hooves. Then I videoed as Caitlyn trotted him away from me in a straight line and back again, simulating what was required at competitions to check the horses were sound to compete, which he was. The whole time, I sensed defiance from Caitlyn, as if she was daring me to find something wrong with the horse.

  I couldn’t. “He’s gorgeous. Tell me about him.”

  Her expression softened instantly, as if a switch had flipped. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.” Dewey was clearly key to getting her to open up to me so we could have a good working relationship. Yeah, that’s it, a good working relationship.

  The corner of her mouth twitched. “That’s heading into dangerous ground. I could talk about him all day.”

  “Then do.” I really did need to know everything I could about him, even what she felt innocuous. More than that, I hoped if we had some easy conversation about something she clearly loved, the ice between us might crack. I knew it was too much at this stage to hope for it to break.

  “He naps at least twice during the day, lying down flat on his side like he’s dead to the world, in the sun if he can. If he can get something in his mouth to play with it, he will and he’ll probably ruin it in the process. He always leaves part of his dinner hay to eat during the night. He’ll turn himself inside out to get a treat from you. And he’s missing Rasputin so he’s been a bit more unsettled in the stalls than usual when he’s generally pretty chilled out, not spooky or tense even when we go away.”

  I paused my frantic typing. “Have you thought about a blanket with the cat’s scent on it and bringin’ it whenever you’re away from home?”

  “We did once but he spent the whole time in the stall with it in his mouth, shaking it and spooking the horses around him. Plus we didn’t want him to get any ideas when he went home to the real Rasputin.”

  I laughed. “Ah, yeah. Probably best you don’t then. You bred him, right?”

  She nodded. “Mhmm. His sire is Farewell Three, and his dam is Antoinette. I’m not sure if you remember Antoinette from Pony Club?”

  “I do remember her,” I said evenly. She should know that I would remember that horse. The mare was gorgeous, German-bred, with talent and attitude in equal measure.

  “She was injured and had to be retired, so I decided to breed from her.” Her nose wrinkled adorably and for a moment I forgot her earlier hostility. “I made plans and saved, and now I have Dewey.”

  “Has he ever had any major health issues or lameness?”

  “No lameness except for a couple of hoof abscesses over the years. Uh, he was three weeks premature.”

  “From premature to this massive guy?”

  Another small smile. “Yeah. I think that’s why he’s such a human addict, all that attention in the first few months. I’m just lucky he didn’t go the other way and turn into a resentful horse because of all the treatment. And lucky that I went to check on Antoinette that night. He’d just been born I think, the cord was still attached. He wasn’t breathing properly so I was trying to get him up on his chest to get the fluid out of his airways. It felt like forever but finally he sneezed gunk all over me and took a breath.”

  “Wow. That must have been intense.”

  “It was. And expensive.” She grinned and swatted at Dewey, who’d started nibbling her belt. “He owes me an Olympic medal.”

  Laughing I agreed, “That he does.”

  Her expression changed to confused consternation, as if she couldn’t decide what to do or say. After a while, she quietly asked, “So um, where are you working? Are you still living in Tennessee? Do you still ride?”

  I smothered my surprise at her casual interest. “Nope to Tennessee and nope to riding. I did my DVM degree at Colorado State, then someone pulled some strings so I could do some time in big vet practices in England and Germany. Then I moved on to California and later, Kentucky. Now I’m in Florida. Wellington. It’s mostly racehorses, eventers, dressage horses and showjumpers. Basically a lot of highly strung horseflesh. But there’s enough cheeky kids’ ponies and amateur riders with sweet horses to give me some balance.” I tapped the screen and scrolled to the next group of questions.

  “Oh. I hadn’t realized you’d left Tennessee.”

  I stared at her, trying to decipher what she wasn’t saying. “Well, no, why would you?” When she didn’t answer, not that I’d really expected one to my rhetorical question, I plowed on. “What feed supplements would you bring to Rio if you’re selected?”

  She apparently knew why I was asking, and the annoyance in her answer was barely disguised. “David already cleared them.” Caitlyn folded her arms over her breasts. “I’ve never had my horses or myself test positive for a banned substance and I sure as hell am not going to start now.”

  “Sure, no problem and I’m obviously not accusing you of anything. But I’ll still need to see the list and give you permission to first, bring them into the country and second, use them.”

  Her jaw bunched. She straightened and the change in posture gave her a distinctively superior air. But I didn’t feel inferior at all. I’d spent most of my life having people looking down at
me, from my parents to my childhood peers, professors and fellow students at college, and now even my boss and some clients. I stood as impassively as I could and waited for her to respond.

  All she ground out was, “Why?” Being antagonistic over something as simple as telling me a supplement that’d already been okayed by the previous vet seemed ridiculous.

  “It’s my professional reputation on the line as well as potentially yours. I don’t care if the head dressage steward himself gave you permission to take a supplement into Brazil. I have a duty of care not only to the team but to myself and I refuse to sign off on something that I haven’t sighted.” Six months ago, David West sent a proposed packing list of medications and supplies to the USDF who then forwarded the list to Brazilian authorities for approval. Mercifully, everything was okayed but if I treated a horse I’d have to inventory every single item used and adhere to strict paperwork standards. Smuggling vet drugs in Brazil was apparently a real issue. I kept eye contact with her. “It’s your call.”

  Dewey nudged her shoulder, nibbled her polo shirt and she waved him away absently. “Not now, Dewbles,” she murmured.

  The interaction seemed to soften her and I tried for a slightly softer tone myself. “If you could just send me the list of supplements by the end of the week then I can check they’re all okay and put my signature against them on my list. That’s all.” Smiling, I reminded her, “Here to help, okay?”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  I exhaled slowly, softly, so it didn’t come out like a rush of relieved air. “What are his favorite treats?”

  “Why do you want to know that?”

  “Because I find it easier to do my job when they associate the woman with the pokey needles for blood draws and thermometer for their butt as someone who also brings treats.”

  “Oh, right. Um, licorice and peppermints. Plus the usual, carrots and apples.”

  “Ah, a sweet tooth, Master Dewey.” I lowered my voice and leaned into him. “A man after my own heart. I’m partial to peppermints myself.”

  He pushed his nose toward me, and I just had to kiss it. He responded with a nudge and a huff-sniff in my face. I pushed him away before he could get nibbly, and it was only then that I realized what I’d done. “Sorry. I should have asked you. I just can’t resist when someone sticks a kissable nose like that in my face.”

  For the first time she seemed relaxed and almost open. “No problem. I get it. I’m addicted to kissing his nose too.”

  I cleared my throat. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a chat with your regular veterinarian, just to see if there’s anything I need to know. And to open up a line of communication in case I need to consult with them.” I glanced up to find her watching me intently. “If that’s okay?”

  “Sure. It’s usually Teresa Warren at LakeVets in La Grange.”

  I didn’t bother hiding my surprise. Or relief. “Really? I was in vet school with her. She’s a great veterinarian. And a friend.” That should make things a whole lot easier, considering Teresa and I were in contact every few months about tough cases, frustrating clients and also personal life stuff as a way to get some distance from the constant work stress. She’d never mentioned Caitlyn which boded well. “You two are in great hands.”

  “That she is. And yes we are.”

  “When you have a moment, could you please email LakeVets and let them know it’s okay to release details to me?”

  Another nod. “Sure. What will you want?”

  “Everything from the last two years, perhaps three if there’s something in there that makes me want to look closer.”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  “Thanks.” I finished my notes and saved Dewey’s file. “Right, I think we’re pretty much done here.” I offered her a card from my back pocket. “If there’s anything you need or anything else you think of, feel free to call or email me. Of course I’ll be at Roosendaal and then come back again for Rotterdam.”

  She took the card carefully, like someone who thought I had cooties. “You’re not staying here the whole time?”

  “’Fraid not. I have to head back to the States between the two events.” Because Seth had bitched so much about me being away I’d contorted myself to move between the two countries. “But I’ll be with the team twenty-four-seven after the final selection is made.”

  “Sure. Sounds good.” She almost sounded genuine.

  I rubbed Dewey’s face. “He really is adorable. And such a good guy.”

  Caitlyn smiled like I’d just given her the gift of life. “Yeah, he is.”

  We were making progress. Note to self: remember Dewey is the center of her universe. I bent to put my iPad in my bag. “Don’t forget to send me that supplement list so I can look it over.”

  Her smiling mouth tightened into something resembling a scowl. “Fine.”

  I bit back my sigh. Scratch that previous thought. Progress is back to square one. I almost tried to walk things back, to soften it, to rewind thirty seconds where I’d thought she might be able to be civil. Just as quickly, I decided her issue with me was her problem, not mine. I was going to stick to polite and professional, and just do my job.

  And if she wanted me to do it well, then she could come on board.

  Chapter Five

  Caitlyn

  As with most big competitions, we had a few days on-site prior to our first test for the horses to settle and acclimate to the arenas and do our soundness check. Den Goubergh, the site of the Roosendaal competition, had excellent facilities for horses and humans, and Dew had settled perfectly into his temporary accommodation. We’d passed the trot up with flying colors, he’d had his arena acclimation ride and not batted an eyelid and everything seemed on track for a good competition. That said, I would have been happier if not for the thorn in my sock that was Addie Gardner.

  To say things between us were awkward would be an understatement. She seemed to be everywhere and the fact I had to interact with her made me close up tighter than a clam. Whenever I looked at her, some stupid part of my brain insisted on showing me a replay of the times she’d teased me, been mean to me or played some prank on me when we were kids. Yet, despite my impersonation of someone with a vocabulary of just twenty words, Addie appeared unconcerned and almost too friendly. And Dew adored her, which made the whole thing even more uncomfortable.

  Wren, who had a radar for drama, seemed to have made it her personal mission to find out everything about me and Addie and Pony Club. Persistence was my groom’s middle name, and she was totally unphased by my refusals to answer. Given I was still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing, which included going over and over events from my teen years, I simply had no answers for her. Because I didn’t even know how I really felt.

  We were staying in Lotte’s deluxe horse truck, which had bunk beds as well as a small bathroom and kitchen, and each night when I came in for dinner I was treated to Wren’s Twenty Questions. The night before the competition began, I collapsed into a chair at the table to watch Wren cooking and when she started up again, I just…caved. I had no idea if I was worn down by her persistence, was having a lapse in concentration or if I just wanted to get it off my chest. “Seriously, it’s nothing. We did Pony Club together for a few years and had some stupid teen stuff going on. I never expected to see her again and it’s thrown me for a bit of a loop, that’s all.”

  Wren’s head snapped up and I caught a flash of manic grin. “Aha! I knew it! Come on. Spill. Obviously you two have history. I’ve never seen your hackles go up like that with anyone. Not even post-breakup Elin encounters. I actually thought you were going to snarl at Addie. Not to mention you’ve looked like a mannequin every time you’ve spoken to her since, like you just don’t know what to say. Were you guys teen besties who had a massive falling out?”

  “That’s because I don’t know what to say to her. We weren’t friends, okay?” My laugh sounded dry and nervous. “Quite the opposite. And now some part of me reverts to
an insecure teenager, right when I need all the confidence I can muster.” I leaned down to unzip my boots and pull them off. “It’s freaking me out a little, and all that panic and insecurity is putting me in full lizard brain.” Freaking me out a little was the understatement of the month. Knowing that someone from so long ago, someone who shouldn’t affect me could affect me was frustrating.

  Plus, Addie’s refusal to acknowledge what she’d done and then to act as if everything was peachy just pissed me off. But as usual with any annoyance, I found it hard to keep a firm grip on it, and Addie’s quiet jokes and easy manner were loosening my grip further, leaving me in some weird uncertain space. Not that I wanted to be bitchy, because I wasn’t a bitch, but I felt like I should show some respect to teen-me who’d suffered and not just roll over like a puppy promised a belly rub.

  “Hmmm. Well, she doesn’t seem freaked out at all.” Her tone was almost teasingly sing-song.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Caitlyn,” my groom sighed. “Don’t play dumb, not with me. If I see it with Addie then there’s no way you don’t.”

  See…what? “I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said honestly.

  Wren’s response was exaggeratedly slow. “She looks at you like you’re her ex that she’s still hung up on and utterly heartbroken over.”

  I almost choked on what she’d said, and my own response was a spluttering, “What? No way. That’s absurd. There was never anything between us except teenaged animosity.” The idea of Addie Gardner and that was totally ridiculous. “I think maybe you need your eyes checked.”

  “Mhmmmmm.” The facetious agreement spanned three octaves up then back down. “Sure thing, boss.”

  I stared at her. Wren turned away and rummaged in the small fridge wedged under a counter. Apparently she’d decided she’d said all she needed to.

  For now.

  The quiet lasted another two minutes before she dove in again, over the sound of chopping. “She’s cute. If I was inclined that way, and single, I might ask her out. She has the most incredible eyes. And those dimples? Adorable.”