Page 7 of The Feud

If I remember.

For now, I’m heading back to the broodmare barn. I need to budget time to call Michelle DeLeon to see if I can facilitate the sale of Lady Beatrice. Blackburn Farms takes a fifteen percent commission on inner barn sales, so on a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar horse, that’s some nice change going into the bank. It’s one of our easier earned revenue streams, but it’s not where my heart resides.

That’s back with the pregnant mares, bringing new foals into the world. While the Blackburn enterprise deals in show horses, we’re mostly known for our breeding program. It’s where the real magic behind our success lies.

Everything in breeding is high stakes. We’re putting a lot of money into blending championship lines to strengthen the breed. Buyers from all over the world want a Blackburn horse and every single birth is precious to me. It represents a piece of our family’s legacy.

Which is why I don’t have time to be worried about Diane Turner spilling our private business or fending off my sister with unwanted matchmaking. I certainly don’t want to be saddled with a kid.

Simply put, I have more important things to do.

CHAPTER 3

Marcie

My sister Michelle is everything I’m not. Tall and willowy with flawless features, a natural sense of style—she can make a burlap sack look couture. She exudes grace, charm and a light, tinkling laugh when she’s amused that is so effervescent, people’s heads turn to see who made that beautiful sound. Michelle married wealthy and divorced wealthier and can afford anything she wants.

So I’m quite surprised my sister is hemming and hawing over paying two hundred and fifty thousand for a horse for her daughter, Carmen. I’ve watched my sister shell out money on ridiculously expensive things with no regard to whether it would ever ding her bank balance, because in truth, it never would. Michelle’s ex-husband, Winston P. Bradenton, is a financier and was easily able to fork over half of his money to his ex-wife in the divorce without blinking an eye. Although he certainly grumbled about it every chance he could.

“Why are you hesitating on this horse?” I ask as we share a bowl of warm tortilla chips and spicy salsa at our favorite Mexican restaurant.

Michelle and I are close. I’m two years older at thirty-four and we spend a lot of our free time together. We’re not just sisters, we’re best friends. Despite thinking my sister is utter perfection in all ways, there’s not a single drop of envy or jealousy within my mind. I love every inch of her in all her perfect forms.

That’s because, if you were to ask Michelle on any given day what she thinks of me, she’d reflect the same thing. That I’m utter perfection.

While Michelle is tall and graceful, I’m petite and sassy. Michelle’s cultured, musical intonation is a complete contradiction to my raspy voice coated in the Kentucky southern accent. Women always tell me they wish they could sound like me, and men want to know what it sounds like being with me. We both have vivid blue eyes—Michelle’s sharply keen and savvy while mine reflect the lighthearted nature with which I approach life.

She shrugs off my question. “I’m not necessarily hesitating about a horse in particular. I’m just wondering if I should shop around first. I don’t want to make a rash decision just because it’s an easy choice and I can afford it.”

I laugh because this is very unlike my sister. She’s all about easy decisions and tossing money at the things she wants. “How can you even question it? You’ve been a customer at Blackburn Farms almost your entire life.”

Michelle is the quintessential Blackburn customer, having ridden horses there as a young girl and throughout her teenage years. She gave up competition and riding in general when she went off to college but has always supported the saddlebred competition world and passed on her love of it to Carmen.

I know from watching her ride back in the day and the way she’s cheering on Carmen that Michelle implicitly trusts the horse being offered to them. “You trust Ethan Blackburn on any matter regarding any horse, so why are you hesitating now?”

Michelle shrugs and doesn’t answer, instead picking up her margarita on the rocks and taking a delicate sip.

I narrow my eyes at her evasiveness. I wasn’t into horses growing up the way Michelle was. I’m all about music and art. But over the years I’ve become casually acquainted with the instructors and trainers at Blackburn since I attended my sister’s shows and would sometimes watch her train. I’ve also never missed one of Carmen’s shows and never will, because being divorced and childless at thirty-four, I’m pretty certain my chance at kids is over.

I don’t know Ethan Blackburn personally, having only seen him around at various shows, but I know who he is. I know the entire Blackburn family, not just from Michelle and Carmen’s dealings with them, but because they are one of the most prominent families in Kentucky. But I only know Ethan by sight and what Michelle has said about him.

I’ve seen him in the barn a few times while we were there checking out Lady Beatrice, but I don’t know him well enough to level a smile his way when he glances at me and Michelle. I’ve never so much as said hello to him in the handful of times our paths have crossed over the years.

Not that I would know what to say if he dared talk to me. That man is so gorgeous, he’d likely put me into a perpetual tongue-tie. He’s also too serious looking, always bearing an expression as if he doesn’t have time for even a hello and doing so would be an imposition. He’s far more intimidating than gorgeous, which means it’s a waste of space for him to occupy my thoughts.

I push that aside and niggle again at my sister. “Seriously… buy the damn horse.”

Michelle’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Yeah, I should buy the damn horse. Carmen loves it and it’s going to level up her riding. I’ve got plans later today but I can cut the check right now. You think you could run it by Blackburn Farms on your way home since you go right by there? Hand it over to Ethan?”

I know every intonation in my sister’s voice and this one narrows my eyes. “Why do you need me to run the check over today? I’m sure if you just called him and told him you’re going to buy the horse, he can wait for you to bring the check.”

“I don’t want them to sell the horse out from under me.”

I roll my eyes at her obvious lie. “They are not going to sell the horse out from under you if you tell them you want it. It’s a quarter-of-a-million-dollar horse and it’s not the first expensive one you’ve bought from them. I’m quite confident they’ll keep it for you.”

“Oh, come on,” Michelle exclaims with a quirk of her lips. “Wouldn’t you like a tiny opportunity to have some one-on-one time with Ethan Blackburn?”

My mouth falls open, so low and wide that I’m surprised my jaw doesn’t dislocate. My sister has never once vocalized such a preposterous thought and she’s only doing so now because she suspects something.

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