Page 2 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

He rolls his eyes. “Not only because of that.”

“I had to drive into town anyway to check the mail at my apartment.”

“Why do you even still have that?” He opens the top of the bag and starts rummaging around. “You’ve basically lived here for months.”

I walk toward him. “My parents don’t know that, clearly.”

“Where’s the goat cheese?” His lip curls. “Did they charge you for it and forget to make it?”

I reach into the bag and pull out the lamb bourguignon, his favorite. “I ate it in my car on the way home, so you won’t have to smell it.” I step closer. “AndI already brushed my teeth.”

He smiles, then. “Good girl.” He reaches for my waist. “Get anything helpful in the mail?”

I sigh and drop my head against his shoulder. “No. Still nothing.”

“I thought they’d have sent out letters by now,” he says. “Maybe I should call Stetson.”

I freeze. “Can you do that?”

He shrugs. “I mean, he’s not supposed to share stuff like that, but he’d be able to log in and tell me whether you got in, probably.”

“I have to get in, right?” I ask. “I mean, you couldn’t recommend me, in case people ever found out about us, but Larry and Dr. Hartfield both love me. They gave me good recommendations, right?” Larry’s technically his boss, but only because Tim hates doing paperwork. Tim’s the one who brings in the big bucks, and everyone else accommodates him any way they can, including writing letters of recommendation for me when Tim asks. In this case, though, I know I earned them. I’ve worked hard at Bear River.

Tim leans back against the countertop with his hip and pulls his phone from his pocket. “I’m just going to call him, because if I don’t, you’ll keep driving down there every single day, won’t you?”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue.

“Hey,” Tim says. “It’s Heaston.”

I can’t hear anything from the other line. He must have his volume turned down low. I try to slide closer, but he waves me off.

“Listen, I know this is probably technically against the rules, but can you just take a little peek and tell me, informally, whether one of my interns got into the vet program over there?”

Again, he pauses.

“Right. She’s trying to make some big decisions, and she’s stressing that the letters haven’t come out yet. I told her I’d see what I could do. Sweet girl.”

Sweet girl? I slap his chest.

He scowls, and shakes his head. “Yep, her name’s Isabel Brooks.” He pauses. “Uh-huh.” Another break. “Yeah, that’s right. Birthday’s April fourteenth.”

And then he grunts.

“What does that mean?” I whisper. “That soundedbad.”

“No, I understand. I’ll just tell her to keep waiting.” When he hangs up, he looks. . .not good.

“What did he say?” I ask. “Are the letters coming out soon?”

Tim sighs heavily. “Look, Peach Pit. I know how much you wanted to do vet school, but if you did go, I wouldn’t see you for four years. Logan’s a long way off.”

What’s he saying?

“Plus, you’d never have time to ride if you were working that hard. And if we wanted to get married and start a family, that would be delayed a long while, too. So I know this might seem like bad news, but try to remember?—”

I bite off a sob. “Did he say I didn’t get in?”

“He told me I can’t tell you anything, obviously.” He sighs.

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