Pas de deux Page 7

  “I suppose you’re right,” I conceded. Though it wasn’t so much a concession as an agreement because Addie Gardner was cute. There was no denying that. But I couldn’t show Wren all my cards. She’d get insufferably smug. Insufferably-er smug-er. And given everything that sat alongside Addie’s cuteness, I didn’t want to get into an argument with Wren about why I wasn’t jumping the vet’s bones.

  “Course I’m right. And she’s hilarious. And fun. We had a great chat.”

  Feeling an odd defensiveness prickling my skin, I asked, “How’d you know that? And when did you have this great chat?”

  “Yesterday afternoon. She’s talking to all the grooms, wants to get our opinions, like, eyes on the ground type stuff.” Wren let out a particularly loud exhalation. “The relief is real, Caitlyn. Flying with the horses can be pretty boring if you don’t have someone good to talk to. I love Dew, but he’s a shitty conversationalist.” Everyone spoke as if us making the team was a done deal. Realistically I knew we probably would, unless a disaster befell us, and that confidence helped. But also…superstition. If I thought about it, it wouldn’t happen.

  I fought the urge to cross my arms over my chest. “It’s settled then. You and Addie can have all the fun chats you want to.” I didn’t mean it to, but the statement came out dry and defensive. Interesting.

  Wren’s reply was a cheerful, “I plan to.”

  “Great.”

  “It sure is.” After a few seconds, she reached over and poked my arm. “Come on, grumble-butt. What’s up?”

  “Just thinking.” I scrambled for an answer that wouldn’t give away what I was really feeling. “I’d have liked to try out the new Freestyle music a few more times before maybe doing it in Rio.” Shit. In my haste to pretend I wasn’t thinking about Addie I’d totally just jinxed myself.

  Unlike the Olympics where we would potentially ride three different tests—the Grand Prix, then if we scored high enough, the Grand Prix Special and then if we made the cut after the Special we would ride the individual medal-deciding Grand Prix Freestyle—these two remaining competitions only had the Grand Prix and Special. Our Frozen-themed Freestyle soundtrack had been a hit at the Florida competitions in January and March, but the more ears and reactions I got the better. Dew always responded better to crowd engagement and if I had a better idea of what to expect, I could hype him or chill him accordingly.

  “I’m sure it’ll be great,” Wren soothed. “Your choreography always scores top marks and only a sadist wouldn’t like a Frozen Freestyle.”

  I grinned. “We all know dressage is full of sadists…”

  When I walked Dewey out of the arena after my Grand Prix I was ninety-nine-point-eight percent pleased and zero-point-two percent pissed. The scoreboard held the results from each of the judges positioned at their specific letters around the arena and then my total score of 79.630%. I would have been happier with a score over eighty, but I’d been tentative with my extended trot work because Dew had felt a little tighter than usual and I didn’t want to push and risk ruining his naturally good rhythm.

  I scratched his neck underneath his braids. “You were fabulous, Dew. Pity about the rider.”

  He snorted and I couldn’t tell if he was agreeing with me, or just relieved it was carrot time. Dew loved the atmosphere of big shows, but also loved his downtime. I waved at the spectators in the stands on all four sides, then waved with both hands when a contingent from somewhere started whooping. At least the audience was happy.

  Waiting by the gate was Wren and the head honchos of the team. Wren’s expression said it all. Hell yes. She kept silent as we walked back to the stalls, her naturally long stride just keeping pace with Dew. Ian and Mary had to work to keep up and while Mary chattered the whole way, Ian was his usual quietly restrained self, nodding and occasionally murmuring, “Good, good.”

  Mary beamed up at me. “That ride is worthy of a place.”

  And I just kept nodding along as I rode out of the melee to where I could dismount. Ian and Mary melted away, back to the team officials’ area to watch Dakota who was scheduled to ride three after me. I leaned down and hugged Dew around the neck, then swung to the ground. Wren pulled the reins over his head, then ran my right stirrup up while I did the left and then loosened the girth. Her head popped over Dew’s neck. “I can see it on your face. Need I ask?”

  Shrugging, I pulled my helmet off and smoothed my hair, checking it was still in a tight bun at the back. Cameras were everywhere, ready to document the competition for every equestrian publication on the planet, which meant I not only had to look presentable but I had to look pleased, not annoyed with myself. I clipped the strap of my helmet together and hooked it over my arm so I could pull off my white gloves. “Could have done more with the extended trot work but he felt a bit tight. Didn’t want to risk it. Now I feel like I should have gone all out.”

  “You’re in first place,” Wren said dryly. She didn’t need to say anything more—we’d worked together long enough that the unspoken was just as known as the spoken.

  “For now,” I countered, trying not to make it sound like I was sulking. “There’s practically a whole class to ride after me.”

  “Caitlyn.” My name was a sigh. “Perspective. The scores from your qualifying competitions thus far are more than enough to secure you a place on the team.”

  “You’re right. I know.” I let go of my self-flagellation. In the scheme of things, the score was fine. My Inner Caitlyn piped up to remind me that I was only competing against myself, that my goal was to improve our training and our scores. And if that stacked up to beat other people and secure us a place on the team—great. I grabbed Dewey’s face and kissed him on the nose. Camera shutters clicked behind me. He pricked his ears at the sound and more shutters went off. Narcissist.

  By the time Dewey had cooled down and been settled back into his stall to eat the rest of his day away it was almost eleven a.m. I’d removed my tails and boots but remained mostly dressed to ride in case I was required to attend the prize-giving ceremony. Wren had left to socialize and inhale the latest gossip from the other grooms. Once I’d studied the video of my test three times I went to watch the rest of the riders.

  I was still in first place, though Dakota was chasing my heels on 77.071%, and the few combinations who I knew could beat me were yet to ride. I stared at my name and score. It was a good score and when compared to my main competition in Rio it would see me get a medal. If I got to Rio. Don’t jinx it. I found myself a semi-secluded spot in a back corner of the stands and settled in to watch. There were some good rides, a couple of great ones, and some that I knew the riders would rather forget.

  My skin prickled when the announcer’s voice over the loudspeaker introduced the final combination of Lynn Bergler from Great Britain riding Marionette. The Jensen family had previously owned that horse before they’d sold her to Lynn for the tidy sum of eighty thousand dollars. I’d thought the price was a little low given the horse’s breeding, temperament, trainability, paces, and prospect as a broodmare.

  And I was only a little bitter. The Jensens had given me the ride on Marionette when the mare was a hot, uncooperative green-broken three-year-old. I’d figured out what made her tick, turned her attitude around, then taken her through the ranks and turned her into a seriously competitive Grand Prix prospect. That is, until four years ago when the Jensens had abruptly informed me that they’d been offered a sum they couldn’t refuse and I lost the ride.

  Given it was the second time they’d sold a horse out from under me, I’d decided to never take on one of their horses again, even if they did breed the best dressage Warmbloods in the States. Such was the nature of top-level competition—the unspoken rule was every horse has a price.

  Except Dew.

  I’d rather never ride Grand Prix again than see the horse I’d bred and trained and been with nearly every day of his life owned and competed by someone else.

  Lynn had done well with Marionette and
it was a respectable test. But not quite enough. After her final salute, I turned away from the arena to double check the final scoreboard. Time to grab my horse and get dressed again for the prize presentation. I accepted congratulations and well-wishes on my way to the stalls and when I finally got there after ten minutes of conversational detours, Wren and Addie were outside Dewey’s stall, engaged in an animated conversation while Dew tried to get involved.

  Wren’s laugh echoed through the space, followed by a lower belly laugh. Addie’s. I hadn’t heard her laugh like that since…well, way back then. She looked up at my approach, flashed me a smile, then touched Wren’s shoulder. “I’ll catch you both later to check on Dewey.”

  I tried to make my smile as bright as hers and knew I’d fallen short by a few hundred megawatts. “Sounds great.”

  Once she’d left, I turned to Wren who’d resumed wrapping Dew’s legs in blindingly white bandages ready for the presentation. “Are you two best pals now or something?” The question sounded oddly defensive, and I couldn’t figure out what was up with my tone.

  “What do you mean?” She glanced over her shoulder.

  “Cozy chats, all that touching.”

  Wren snorted a laugh. “Have you blinkered yourself or something?” Her tone was pure incredulity. “She touches everyone while she’s talking, Caitlyn. She’s like Brandon, Mr. Never Still Hands himself.” Wren stared. “How haven’t you noticed that?”

  “Probably because…because she’s only been around for a few days and we haven’t engaged in any deep and meaningful casual touch conversations?” Did Addie used to be like that? I had no idea.

  “Right.” She finished the last bandage and stood. “Have you watched the video of the test?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “You want to talk about the ride?” Wren gestured for me to raise my chin so she could straighten the diamante bar through the stock tie at my neck.

  “Tomorrow.” I made myself smile as I checked my hair was presentation-ready. “After I’ve ridden the Special. Then I’ll either need to gloat or grieve.”

  It was very nearly grieve.

  Dressage isn’t just doing the movements well but knowing how to ride a competitive test which means preparing and riding accurately to the markers. I was so focused on what came next that I let Dewey down. As we came around the top of the arena in collected canter, Dew’s attention wavered at some commotion in the stands. My fault. I was so intent on the impending transition to collected trot then going all out in the extended trot to make up for those I didn’t quite nail the day before, that for a few seconds I forgot the most important thing. My horse.

  He fumbled the transition to collected trot and I thought it was completely lost. Mercifully, his focus snapped back to me at my outside rein half-halt reminder and he placed all his trust in me, forgot about the noise and gave me everything. He floated down the long side of the arena like he was trying to win a competition for biggest and best extended trot. If I’d messed up during our piaffe, where Dew was less able to recover from mistakes, then I would have ended up somewhere in the middle of the rankings instead of lining up at the end of the day next to one of my teammates, Beau, to collect my second-place sash and prize money.

  After posing for a million photos, engaging in some quick media interviews and talking to a few of the competitors who’d stuck around for the presentation, I snuck back to the truck and changed into comfortable jeans and a sponsor logo-laden polo. While Wren prepped Dewey for the drive back to Lotte’s, I packed up the truck. And thought. And then thought some more. We were in a great position. My horse was sound and fit. My scores were the highest of everyone on the shortlist. Dew had felt great. I’d felt great. We had another competition down, and one big one to go. Then maybe one big big one after that. And shit, what if—

  The nervousness building in the pit of my stomach made me feel sick. Closing my eyes, I leaned my forehead against the exterior of the truck. “Nobody’s going to die, nobody’s going to go bankrupt, nobody is going to run you out of the dressage scene,” I whispered to myself. “Do your best, be as prepared as you can be and that’s all you can do.” Right. Easy. I opened my eyes and stared down at the churned-up-by-hooves grass below my feet.

  A quiet Tennessee drawl asked, “D’you make a habit of talking to yourself?”

  Trying to act as if Addie hadn’t just startled the shit out of me and sparked my irrational annoyance, I stepped away from the truck. “Only on special occasions.” I side-eyed her. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Direct. I’m all done here. I’ve already checked your horse out. With Wren present,” she clarified quickly. “And given there’s only a handful of my charges here today, it’s not as hectic as you might think. Plus everyone but you and Beau have left for the day.” Addie moved in beside me, leaning against the open side door of the truck.

  Only five of us had chosen to ride this competition, the others having already completed one of the qualifying competitions in Compiègne late last month. The only compulsory event for selection was Rotterdam at the end of the month, where the entire shortlisted team would be jostling for one of the four key or one reserve positions. I’d decided to ride both of the two non-compulsory qualifying events to make sure that I had as many good scores under my belt as I could fit.

  “Right. Great.” After a moment I added, “Sorry. You’re right, that came out a lot blunter than I’d meant it to.”

  “How did you mean it to come out?”

  “I—” Frowning, I thought about it. Now she’d turned the directness on me and I had no idea how to respond. “I’m actually not sure. Not like that.” I tried for small talk. “What have you been doing today?”

  She smiled, and her response was slow as if the answer was obvious. “My job.” She touched my forearm then yanked her hand back as if my skin had burned her. Wren’s “She touches everyone” echoed in my head. Addie’s shoulders did a slow rise and fall and when she spoke again it was a one-eighty topic turnaround. “You okay? You seemed a bit…freaked out?”

  Surprised by the softness of the question and her genuine and obvious interest, I answered truthfully. “I am. Both okay and freaked out.” Smiling, I said, “Just overthinking things, that’s all.” I debated if I should elaborate and after a moment, confessed, “There’s a lot of balls to juggle at the moment.”

  “Ah yes. I know that feeling.” Addie folded her arms over her breasts. “You know that saying about juggling life stuff, and trying to keep a lot of balls up in the air? It’s all about knowing which ones are plastic and can be dropped, and which are fragile glass and should be kept off the ground.”

  With a rueful smile I said, “Unfortunately, at the moment, all of them are glass.”

  Her answering smile was slow. “In that case, I’ve every confidence you’re going to keep each of them in the air.” She cleared her throat, swallowing as if her mouth was dry and she couldn’t talk. “Dewey gets my tick of approval—vitals normal and no heat in any of his limbs. I’m off to see the other horses who uh, didn’t have to stay for the prize presentation and then I’m headin’ back to the States.”

  “Oh. Right.” I’d have expected to feel relieved that she was leaving. But I felt…nothing.

  “I’ll be back here in a little over two weeks. I’ve talked to the veterinary practice Lotte usually has come to do her work and thank the Lord they speak fabulous English, right? I know you have their contact details for emergencies but if there’s anything that feels weird or out of place don’t hesitate to contact me at any hour.” She paused and added a quiet, “Or if you just want to chat.”

  “Sure. I mean I hope I don’t have to talk to you before you’re back.” Realizing how it sounded, despite it being an old joke, I added a hasty, “Of course because that means there’s something wrong with Dew.”

  Addie leaned closer for a conspiratorial, “Of course.” She pushed away from the truck. “Well then. I guess I’ll see you just before
Rotterdam?”

  “That you will.”

  “Great. Okay then. Take care. Uh, bye.” With a shy wave she walked away, and I could hear her muttering something as she went.

  I exhaled a long breath. Despite my panic when she’d arrived, the conversation had been perfectly natural. Nice even. Maybe I could set the past aside and be a normal person around Addie. Enthusiastic back pats for me. Rational Caitlyn jumped onto the soapbox to speechify about how a comfortable, friendly relationship between the two of us would make the next few months easier.

  But there was friendly, and then there was the weird nervous feeling when I was around her. Like I was a teenager all over again and wanting someone’s approval. Wanting someone to notice me. Wanting someone to like me. I knew myself well enough to realize this dual-sided emotion was partly my teenaged self reflecting all of that past angst back at me, and partly the fact that I knew I was physically attracted to her. Hell, anyone who liked women would probably be attracted to her. But given our history, it was more than a little confusing.

  And I so did not need confusing right now.

  I almost laughed at myself. In front of me was the very definition of confusing. So what could I do about it? I had zero answers. But somewhere inside was curiosity. There was something about this Addie who was so different to the Addie I’d known. Which Addie was the real one? The right one?

  I had no answer to that question either.

  Chapter Six

  Addie

  Caitlyn had cleared her veterinarian to talk to me, and I’d adjusted my flights to make a stop in Kentucky instead of taking the free day at home to sort out my jetlag. I hadn’t seen my friend Teresa in over six months and probably wouldn’t see her for another six the way things were going, so it seemed a perfect opportunity to catch up. Besides, these conversations were always better in person, even if you weren’t talking to a friend.