My Favorite Mistake (24 page)

Kate led the way out of the tack stall, knowing she'd feel better once Summer's money was in her pocket. True, fifty bucks still wasn't enough to buy her a new pair of name-brand breeches at the tack vendors. But if she pooled it with the cash she had left from her food budget, she should be able to swing something acceptable.

As they rounded the corner at the end of the aisle, Kate felt her heart stop. Zara was coming the other way. She was staring down at her cell phone with a self-satisfied smile.

“Wait, let's go back,” Kate whispered, grabbing for Summer's arm.

But Summer was already rushing forward. “Zara!” she called excitedly, waving the gloves. “Check it out—we're going to match!”

Kate froze in place. This couldn't be happening. Somehow, she'd just assumed that Summer wouldn't tell anyone where she got those gloves. She was such a snob, she'd want everyone to think she'd bought them at some high-end tack store or something—not from the working student she looked down on.

But it seemed she'd been wrong. Zara was already glancing up, looking confused and a little annoyed. All Kate could do was brace herself for whatever was coming next.

Zara stared as Summer raced toward her. What the hell was the girl yapping about now, and why was she supposed to care?

She glanced down at the phone in her hand, more than a little distracted. She'd just hung up from talking to Grant. The boy was so hot for her it wasn't even funny.

Then she looked at Summer again. She was waving a pair of gloves in her face, sounding all excited.

Zara blinked as she realized those gloves looked familiar. She grabbed them out of Summer's hand.

“Hey,” she said. “These are just like mine.”

“That's what I'm telling you!” Summer gushed with that big, stupid smile of hers. “I figured if you liked them, they had to be awesome, right?”

Zara glanced at Kate. She was hanging back, looking like she wished she could disappear. Well, okay, she always kind of looked like that. But now more than ever.

Then Zara looked down at the gloves again. The ones just like hers. Just like the ones she'd bought for Kate.

“Listen, Zara,” Kate began, her voice shaking a little. “I—”

“No, shut up,” Zara cut in, finally catching on to what was happening here. “I don't want to hear it.”

“But if you just let me explain,” Kate said frantically. “I really didn't mean to—”

“I told you, I don't want to hear it!” Zara scowled at Kate, completely ignoring Summer, who was still buzzing around like the annoying little mosquito she was. But at least it had been obvious from the start that Summer was a loser user. On the other hand, Kate's big, pathetic puppy-dog eyes and soft voice had suckered her completely. And Zara hated being played for a chump.

“But—” Kate tried once more.

“But nothing,” Zara snapped, waving the gloves in Kate's face. “Thanks for making me feel like a total dumbass, Kate. I thought we were friends, I tried to do something nice—guess I should've known better, huh? Believe me, I won't make that mistake again.”

Spinning on her heel, she stuffed the gloves in her pocket and stomped away.

Kate felt numb as she hurried down the aisle, looking for Jamie. It had been fifteen minutes since Zara had stormed off. That was how long it had taken Kate to realize that it was officially too late to fix things. Those gloves were gone, which meant there was no way she could come up with enough money for new breeches. So she had no choice. She had to tell Jamie the truth.

Well, most of the truth, anyway. She didn't have to tell him how the breeches got ruined. Just that she didn't have a suitable pair to wear in the show ring today. Maybe he'd take pity on her, loan her the money for a new pair and let her work it off somehow. Or maybe he'd just find someone else to ride those greenies and then take Fable in the eq. Either way, she wanted to allow him enough time to deal with what she'd done.

She stuck her head into the spare stall at the end of the row where the barn's feed and equipment were stored for the duration of the show. Miguel and Max were in there, the older
groom sweeping up some spilled grain while Max scrubbed out a dirty bucket.

“Have you seen Jamie?” Kate asked the two grooms.

“Not lately,” Max said. “Want me to text him for you?”

“Don't bother.” Miguel glanced up from his work. “I just saw him talking to someone outside. If you hurry you might catch him there.”

“Thanks.” Kate headed out the barn's main entrance. Sure enough, Jamie was standing out there talking to a petite woman with a thick blond ponytail—Kate vaguely recognized her as another well-known trainer, though she couldn't recall the woman's name and was too distracted to try.

She hung back in the entryway, not wanting to interrupt the conversation. Jamie's back was to her, so he hadn't noticed her yet.

As she waited, she heard someone call her name. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Mrs. Walsh hurrying toward her.

“Oh, dear!” the woman exclaimed. “I'm in such a state, Kate—I'm hoping you can be an angel and help me out.”

“Sure, what is it?” Kate said automatically, even though one of Mrs. Walsh's mini-crises was the last thing she had time for right now.

“Just look at this!” Mrs. Walsh sort of fluttered her hands at herself. “Moonie just snotted all over my shirt, and it's the only clean one I have left! But I promised Greta I'd be there cheering her on in her adult equitation division, and Javier just left to take her horse to the warm-up ring.”

Kate nodded, keeping one eye on Jamie. The trainer had just checked his watch. Uh-oh. That meant he was probably
getting ready to dash over to the warm-up to meet Greta Phillips. If she didn't catch him now, Kate might miss her chance.

She opened her mouth to excuse herself. But Mrs. Walsh hadn't even paused for breath. “I know how busy you are, Kate, so I hate to ask,” she was saying. “But is there any way you have time to run to the tack vendor's tent and pick me up a new shirt?”

Sorry, I can't
, Kate wanted to tell her. Instead, she heard herself say, “Of course, no problem.”

“Wonderful!” Mrs. Walsh beamed at her. “As long as you're over there, I suppose we'd better make it two shirts—I might add that extra hunter division tomorrow, and lord knows Moonie can never keep his slobber to himself.” She chuckled and shook her head fondly, then dug a cell phone out of her pocket. “I'll call over there with my credit card info right now so all you have to do is pick me out a couple of shirts in some nice colors.”

“Sure,” Kate said. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Jamie nod good-bye to the other trainer, then disappear in the direction of the rings. “What size do you need?”

Ten minutes later, Kate was stepping into the airy tent that housed the largest tack and apparel vendor at the show. Her shopping list was a little longer than it had started out. After giving Kate her size, Mrs. Walsh had decided she might as well get
three
new show shirts, just in case. And a package of hairnets. A crop to replace the one her horse had stepped on. Some boot socks and a spare set of laces.

It didn't take Kate long to pick up the smaller stuff. Then
she stepped over to the rack of show shirts. There were dozens of them in every color imaginable. Kate started checking tags, grabbing the first three shirts she found in the right size. Mrs. Walsh hadn't seemed to care much about colors, and Kate didn't have time to play fashion adviser.

She headed toward the register, squeezing past a rack of breeches. Then paused, running her hand over the tidy row of Tailored Sportsmans, admiring the luxurious feel of the fabric. Her fingers caught on the tag of one pair, and when Kate looked, she realized it was the size she needed, one size smaller than her old breeches.

She stared at the tag, particularly the price—more than she'd paid for any single item of clothing in her life. If only she were like Zara and Tommi and Fitz and Mrs. Walsh; if only she could afford to drop a couple hundred bucks without blinking an eye.

She glanced down at the pile of items in her arms, then back at the breeches. Before she quite knew what she was doing, she'd grabbed the hanger and slung the pants over her arm. A moment later she was dropping the whole lot on the counter.

“Will that be all?” the bored-looking twentysomething salesgirl asked.

“Yes,” Kate said in a voice that sounded strange to her own ears. “Charge it to Mrs. Elaine Walsh's account, please.”

Tommi had just put Legs in the cross-ties and stepped back to peel off her gloves when someone clapped his hands over her eyes.

“Hey!” she blurted out, startled. “Fitz, if that's you, I swear I'm going to kick you in the—”

“Surprise!” a voice interrupted. “It's not Fitz, it's me.”

“Alex!” Tommi pushed his hands away, then spun around. “Oh my God, I can't believe it! What are you doing here?”

He grinned, looking pleased with himself. “I was bored, I missed you, so I decided to drive up and surprise you. And it was totally worth it. You look super sexy in your riding getup.” His eyes slid appreciatively up and down her body before returning to her face. “Happy to see me?”

“Are you kidding? Of course!” Tommi wasn't quite sure what to think. She tilted her head back as he came in for a kiss. “I can't believe you came all the way up here, though.”

He kissed her again, then grabbed both her hands in his. “I told you, I missed you. And I'd rather drive up to steal a few minutes with you than spend another boring weekend in the Hamptons playing tennis with Parker.”

Tommi smiled. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.” He grinned and squeezed her hands. “So now that I'm here, can I take you to lunch? I passed this cool-looking little burger joint on my way through town.”

“Um …” Tommi glanced at Legs. She'd just finished lungeing him, and he was still sweaty and blowing a bit. Her plan had been to bring him into the barn just long enough to remove his boots, then hose him off and walk him out.

Alex dropped her hands, then reached into his shorts pocket and pulled out his car keys. “Come on, say yes,” he wheedled. “I'll drive.”

Just then Miguel came down the aisle. “Hey, are you busy
right now?” Tommi called to him. “I was just about to cool Legs out, but—”

“You need me to take him?” the groom finished for her with his usual good-natured smile. “Sure, I can do that.”

Tommi smiled back. “Thanks, Miguel. You're the best.”

“
Sí
, that's what they tell me.” The groom winked at her, then turned to give Legs a pat. “Wanna go for a walk, big boy?”

Tommi felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that Miguel was busy enough without her suddenly adding an extra task to his workload. But Alex had driven all the way up here just to see her. How could she say no to that?