Taking The Reins (The Rosewoods Book 1) (10 page)

Perfect.

We sat in the outer office chairs, waiting as I had before, but not for long, thankfully. Emmie and I chatted about our schoolwork; a boring topic suitable for the secretary’s ears, only getting a few minutes in when the dean’s door opened and she called for us. Emmie, looking a thousand times more at ease than I was, jumped up out of her chair and I followed her into the dragon’s den.

I closed the door behind me and stepped toward the chairs, astonished when Emmie plunked herself down in one of them, even before the dean got her rump down in her own.

Undecided on how to proceed, I stood until the dean waved me toward the empty chair. “Sit.”

I did, feeling more comfortable than if I was standing, but my back was still rod straight, like I was afraid she’d call me on bad posture.

“So, ladies. I understand you’re here to swap your community service assignments.”

Emmie handed her the letter she’d drawn up. “Yes, ma’am. Brooklyn will do the student liaison and I will do laundry.”

The dean looked at Emmie for a moment, her face contorted in an expression of extreme concentration, like she wasn’t sure what to say.

But Emmie spoke next, sparing her. “And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention this to my parents. Although I’m sure you’d appreciate another significant endowment, I don’t need to deal with their elitist hissy fit over their daughter doing laundry.”

The dean pursed her lips before saying, “Ms. Prescott didn’t coerce you into this, did she?”

“Nope,” Emmie said casually. “Actually, I offered.”

The dean gave her a curt nod. “And how are the plans coming for the dance next week? You’ve been working with your Westwood counterpart, as I understand it.”

Emmie smiled. “The plans are going very well, thank you.”

“Fine. You will see that project through to completion at the dance next Friday, and then the following week, you may switch. Until that time,” the dean paused, looking at me. “You will continue your assignment in the laundry, Ms. Prescott.”

I can’t say I wasn’t slightly disappointed about having to do more laundry, but it seemed fair, especially when Emmie was going to be doing it for the rest of the year. Another week and a day of laundry probably wouldn’t kill me.

B
y Sunday morning, I was starting to get used to waking up at stupid o’clock, so I was at the stables well before seven, even having stopped at the dining hall to grab an apple and yogurt to eat on the way. Truth be told, I wasn’t exactly hungry. I was nervous to be joining today’s practice. Really nervous.

Not only was the pressure on to perform, since Brady had exempted me from tryouts, sight unseen, but I was seeing him for the first time since that night I’d signed up. And today, I wouldn’t be seeing him as Brady, the friendly stable boy; I’d be seeing him as Coach Fleming, instructor and Olympian.

My five blue ribbons felt really lame and insignificant next to what must have been a whole case full of trophies and ribbons. Maybe two trophy cases. And then I thought of what Emmie had said about him being delicious, which made me even more nervous. Because he was, and that he was an Olympian made him just a tiny bit more attractive.

I made my way over to the stables, hearing voices as I approached, wishing I’d come earlier. I’d always enjoyed helping getting the horses ready; it always seemed to secure the bond between horse and rider. Or at least feel each other's mood out before getting into the arena. Being in sync was so important in riding, especially dressage.

The big doors were open, exposing the center aisle of the stable on both ends.

That’s when I first saw Coach Fleming. He stood, helping another student saddle Poppy who was secured in the crossties. And as though he heard me taking him in from his long boots to his tight breeches, navy polo shirt and up to his ruffled black hair, he lifted his head and those amber eyes focused on me.

I had to force myself to breathe and continue toward him, my heart pounding hard in my chest.

He said something to the girl that I couldn’t hear and then broke away from her to approach me. “Good morning, Ms. Prescott.”

My last name sounded weird coming from his lips.

I nodded. “Coach Fleming.”

His eyes wrinkled at the corners as he worked at hiding a mischievous smile.

“I’m not amused,” I said, sounding to my own ears like someone’s disappointed grandmother. When had I gotten so stodgy? Oh yeah, when he made a fool out of me. “You could have told me who you were,” I hissed.

He turned his head and looked over his shoulder. The girl had stopped tacking Poppy to watch us. “Later,” he said softly and then continued in a louder voice. “You’ll be riding Charlie today. He’s second from the end on the left. Why don’t you head down and get to know each other. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

I took a breath and nodded, walking past him, my arms crossed. “You should have told me,” I breathed, just loud enough for him to hear me.

“Oh and Ms. Prescott?”

Stopping in my tracks, I turned back toward him.

All traces of humor were gone from his eyes. “I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you before today, but you’re to be here a half hour before practice to tack your horse. Keep that in mind for future.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I will. Anything else,
sir
?”

“Yes. You’re welcome.”

You’re welcome
? Ugh. And he looked so smug when he said it. But the truth was, I did have him to thank for being on the team and, indirectly, for the reassignment that was going to get me out of doing laundry in Sub-basement B. Only five more days in that hellhole. Thank God, although I did feel a pang of guilt for Emmie. Though, she did offer.

But I didn’t have the time to think about that now; I had a horse to saddle.

Saying nothing more, I turned back toward the barn and walked away.

~♥~

I
t turned out I had every reason to be nervous about my first day on the equestrian team.

There were five of us, which was a lot less than were signed up on the form in the stables. That was my first clue that I was going to be among really skilled riders; the cream of the crop hand-picked by the coach. These girls had probably been on horses their whole lives and even took private lessons in the summers.

I, on the other hand, hadn’t been on a horse in over two years. To say I was rusty was an understatement. And now I was on a team with an Olympian for an instructor who only put me on the team because he assumed I was good.

I was not good. In fact, I was terrible. And everyone in the arena knew it.

Especially the coach. I could feel his disappointment every time he called out a direction across the arena. And I now understood why Emmie called him broody; he didn’t smile once the entire time, he was all business as he took us through warm-ups and basic drills for this, our first official practice.

Thanks to it being the first one and him going easy on us (a fact I wouldn’t have known if it weren’t for Coach Fleming helpfully informing us) I managed to get through the practice without falling off or dying, but I knew there would be much suffering later from almost five hours of riding. What was worse than the impending physical pain was the humiliation over being nowhere near the caliber of the other riders.

Despite my exhaustion and the tightening of my muscles, I was brushing Charlie in the barn when the steady scrape of boots against the concrete told me the coach was approaching.

Awesome.

All the other girls were gone, but I was lingering behind and moving slowly as I finished up with Charlie and the tack. Mostly because I wasn’t sure if my wobbly legs would take me all the way back to the dorm.

I felt him beside me and didn’t turn away from the horse, making wide circles with the currycomb.

I took a breath but couldn’t face him, knowing what was coming. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“For what?” He actually sounded like he had no idea what I might be apologizing for. I turned to look at him.

And almost bumped into his chest, he was so close. I backed up, landing against Charlie’s flank. Brady’s hand reached out to steady my arm, his grip gentle but firm through my sweater.

I swallowed. “For making you think I was better than I am.”

He let go of my arm and scrubbed his face with his hands. “I went out on a limb for you.”

I looked down at my hands, and rubbed the base of my right thumb, working at the ache that was settling in after the hard practice. “I know you did. I was bragging about those stupid ribbons. I don’t know why. I should have been at the tryouts and you would have seen that I wasn’t any good.”

“You’re right; I should have made you try out. But that’s on me.”

“So I guess I’m off the team.”

“I didn’t say that.”

I laughed. “No, but you were going to. I’ll save you the trouble. I quit. I had no business being in that arena today.”

“That’s not true.”

With a snort, I looked up at him. “You would have put me on the team if I’d tried out?”

He hesitated.

“That’s what I thought,” I said, returning to brushing Charlie. “Well you’re off the hook—like I said, I’m quitting and you won’t have to see me again until our equestrian unit in P.E.”

“I never said you were off the team,” he said, an edge to his voice, making me turn back toward him.

“Why?”

“You’re not horrible, Brooklyn...Ms. Prescott,” he corrected.

“Yes I am.”

The corner of his mouth twisted up just a tiny bit. “Okay, you’re slightly horrible. But here’s the thing. I told the dean you were awesome and if you’re suddenly off the team, I’m screwed.”

I’d never thought about that; how he’d put himself on the line because of my stupid bragging.

“So now what?”

“You stay on the team.”

I exhaled. “I don’t know.”

He cocked his head. “Come on, training for dressage, even if you’re not going to make the Olympic team, has to be better than doing laundry, isn’t it?”

He had a point. But... “That’s another thing,” I said, crossing my arms, dangling the currycomb in my fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me you were the coach? I thought you were just a stable boy. You made me feel like an idiot.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, making his biceps bulge under his polo shirt. “I apologize for that. It wasn’t my intention; I didn’t set out to deceive you.”

“So why?” His eyes were on me and he was still standing close, too close, maybe, but I had nowhere to go since I was already backed up against a horse.

He looked away, down the aisle of the barn before he blew out a breath and said, “All the other girls know me. They know I’m the coach and am going to the Olympics. They don’t see me:
Brady
. You looked at me differently.”

I thought back to that first night, trying to remember how I’d looked at him, what I’d seen. Just a regular guy, I guess. Would I have seen him differently if I’d known he was the coach?

Definitely.

“Still,” I said. “You should have told me before I left here that second time. That could have been really embarrassing.”

“What’s embarrassing is that you flirted with me to keep me from finding out about your friend making out with her boyfriend out back.”

I did a double-take. “You knew about that?”

He gave me a guilty grin. “I saw them outside when I came in.”

I gave his shoulder a push. “You knew the whole time?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t know you were in on it until you were so desperate to get me away from the office, you used your feminine wiles.”

My face heated up. “Um, as I remember it, you flirted with me first,” I said cursing that my brain had let the word ‘first’ fall out of my mouth. But it was too late now. “You were the one talking about billiard balls in my pockets.”

Now
he
was blushing. Which about made me melt into a pile of teenage hormones right there.

“I suppose I’m guilty of that. But you can’t blame me. I thought you were here to see me, but I guess it was Charlie who had turned your head.”

My mouth went instantly dry as I looked at him, his eyes unwavering on mine. My heart thudded in my chest and all I could think was
delicious, delicious, delicious
.

“I should finish up with Charlie,” I croaked after an awkwardly long moment stretched between us.

He pursed his lips. “We still have a problem.”

What now?

“If you’re going to stay on the team, you need to get better. Fast.”

“I didn’t say I was going to stay on the team.”

His eyes flared. “I put my ass on the line for you. You’re staying on the team.”

Defiant, I crossed my arms. “And if I don’t?”

He shrugged, exasperated. “I can’t stop you from quitting, but I don’t just want you to stay so my ass is spared.”

“Why then?” I asked, pushing away the guilt.

“Because I think you have potential,” he said, and then looked away.

I tapped my foot, bringing his attention back to me. “And?”

He paused, but then looked into my eyes again, his like liquid honey. “Because I want you to.”

My breath caught, but I faked a cough to cover it up. “Fine. I’ll stay on the team. And I’ll work hard to get better, but I won’t even be at practice this week; I have to do the laundry assignment. I don’t suppose you can get me out of that.”

He exhaled and shook his head. “Not a chance. Can you be here in the evenings?”

I nodded before I even thought about what that would mean.

“Good. Be here right after dinner. I’ll have Charlie saddled and ready to go. We’ll get you there. Like I said, you have potential; you just need to work it.”

“Thank you,” I said, genuinely grateful for his faith in me and willingness to work with me to help me improve.

He nodded and gave Charlie a friendly stroke, slowly running his hand down the horse’s shoulder. I watched the graceful movement of his arm, mesmerized.

He finished with a final pat. “Make sure you take a hot bath tonight.”

For some reason, that made me blush again. “I will,” I said, returning to Charlie as he left.