Page 41 of The Feud

Looking down at my daughter as she watches Carmen trotting by, I itch to reach out and put my arm around her shoulders, but we aren’t there yet. I’m afraid that action would send her scurrying and building trust with her requires the tiniest of steps.

At today’s show, Carmen is in a large, very competitive class. Sylvie earlier had gushed over how beautiful her new friend looked in her fancy attire of a long-tailed coat, jodhpurs and derby hat.

Carmen is riding against nine other horses, which can be quite hair-raising given that these are the most inexperienced riders. Even after all these years, my heart still pounds with worry when one of our kids is in the ring and it doesn’t stop until the winner is announced. As Carmen approaches me, I do a quick once-over with critical eyes to take in not only her body positioning but that of her horse. I note that Lady Beatrice’s head is drifting forward, so as Carmen rides by, I call out, “Tighten your top rein.”

I watch with satisfaction as her black-gloved fingers moved slightly to shorten the strip of leather laced within and the horse responds by holding her head higher. Carmen enters the long straight of the arena right in front of the judge and guides the horse to the left around a slower rider. I am proud to see she does this after looking over her left shoulder to ensure she isn’t cutting off another rider, and that pride extends to the excellent training Kat has bestowed within her lessons. Safety is the most important thing in their teachings.

From the opposite side of the arena, one voice lifts above the others. A raspy cheer. “Go, Carmen!”

My gaze locks in on Marcie like a laser as she perches on the edge of her seat, watching Carmen ride. I can tell she’s nervous, as are most parents and family members when kids that age ride. Her full bottom lip is tucked between her teeth and her hands clutch the railing so hard, her knuckles are white. I don’t spare a glance at her sister, Michelle, sitting beside her. She is of no interest to me, but Marcie is.

Since our dinner the other night, I’ve thought a lot about the stunning redhead. I owe her so much because without her, the bridge between Sylvie and me may have never been built. But that isn’t really what occupies my thoughts. I thoroughly enjoyed our conversation as we sat at the bar and talked over good food. While Sylvie ended up being the main topic of discussion, I learned more about Marcie and what got her into education. I didn’t hesitate to ask about the demise of her marriage, especially after meeting her husband and learning of his cheating ways. I feel protective of Marcie because of that knowledge and I’m not quite sure why. I most definitely count her as a friend, but I think I might want more. I’ve had thoughts of asking her out and that is very unlike me. More than ever, with Sylvie entering my life, I simply don’t have the bandwidth to date.

Hell, I’m just not the dating type. I am a man who gives everything to make something succeed. I suppose the reason I’ve never bothered with a relationship is that I don’t have the resources to ensure it would succeed. I hate failure so it’s never been worth the bother.

And yet… Marcie might be worth the effort.

I know that I’ve been looking forward to seeing her at the show today. I also know that I’m having a hard time dragging my eyes away from her as she watches Carmen circle the arena.

“Carmen,” Wade calls out from my left. “Change your diagonal.”

I blink hard because Carmen is breezing past my position, bouncing once in the saddle to change her posting so that she rises from her seat in rhythm to Lady Beatrice’s rail side front leg. It is something that I should’ve observed as Carmen approached my position, but I’ve been stupidly staring at Marcie.

“That’s good,” I say, loud enough for Carmen to hear as she recedes away from me. “Hands up.”

I make sure to keep my gaze pinned on Carmen for the remainder of her ride, refusing to look over at Marcie again. I study the harmony between horse and rider—the blend of elegance, discipline and connection—as she works hard to put into play all the things she’s been taught.

When the show riders are finally called into the final lineup, my pulse slows a little. The trainers are allowed to meet them in the ring and Kat runs out to stand before Carmen, who sits up tall and proud in her saddle. Some of the other trainers need to take the horses by the bridle to keep them calm but Carmen has Lady Beatrice parked out impeccably, maintaining absolute control the entire time.

I didn’t watch the other riders so I can’t say how the pint-size Blackburn rider performed against the other horses, but I know she performed very well over all. I’m not surprised when Carmen’s name is called out and she receives the blue ribbon. A rousing cheer ripples around the arena, including Sylvie jumping up and down as she claps for her friend. I let my attention drag back across the ring to see Marcie out of her seat with her arms extended overhead, clapping for her niece as she yells. Her blue eyes shine bright and her happy smile is near perfection.

Unbelievably, and as if she knows I’m watching, her gaze flicks over to me. The exact spot where I’m standing, which means she’s been aware of exactly where I am in the arena, just as I knew where she was.

Marcie gives me a quick wink before returning her attention to her niece who is starting her victory lap.

Damn if that wink doesn’t make my lips quirk in response—a spontaneous smile that is an utter rarity for me.

I’m definitely going to attend the show’s after-party and hopefully get some time to talk to Marcie again.

CHAPTER 15

Marcie

Tipping the beer bottle for a tiny sip, I let my gaze sweep around the crowded pavilion. My sister just walked off to talk to some fellow horse friends, leaving me feeling a bit out of place. I’ve been to all of Carmen’s shows over the past three years, but I’ve never attended a social event with Michelle. Hell, I wouldn’t be attending this one if not for the invite from Ethan.

I’m not sure what it means. There are signs, I think. But I could totally be reading something out of nothing.

On the one hand, he directly invited me to this event. Could that be because he enjoyed spending time with me at dinner the other night? Or was he being polite because I’m Carmen’s aunt and part of her fan club?

I felt him watching me during the show. The weight of his gaze alone sent my pulse tripping and I’m not sure what possessed me to wink at him. I’m not sure what possessed me to take my attention off my niece, who’d just won a blue ribbon. But something made me flirt with the man from across the arena.

It’s practically scandalous—I’m not into Ethan.

Okay… that’s not true. Any woman with breath in her lungs would be into a man like him. But he is clearly not into me. From all I can tell from the past three years of observing and listening to my sister, Ethan Blackburn doesn’t do relationships.

No, I assure myself. I’m making stuff up in my mind. There is nothing there. Ethan is a nice guy to everyone and just because he happened to look at me across the arena doesn’t mean anything.

“Enjoying yourself?”

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