Page 66 of Growing Into Love

Cass frowns. “What the fuck are you on about?”

Nigella points between the two of us. “No fraternization, remember? I’m really sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to report this to the team at Windy Acres. I’m sure they’ll let you stay and watch the show though. You’ll still get to see me win the Grand Prix.”

I half expect Cass to get flustered or angry—but she only laughs.

“They screwed up our booking, you dumb twat,” she says. “Jaz and I are sharing a room because the Fairview messed up. Go ask Betty down at the front desk if you want proof.”

Then she pushes past Nigella, who stares at her dumbfounded, and heads to the stairs.

“Give Betty my best,” I say with a wave and follow Cass down to the lobby.

She’s cackling with delight as we wait for the shuttle. “Did you see the look on her face?” she says. “She thought she had me.No fraternization, ha!”

“Yeah,” I say, giving a halfhearted chuckle. I would love to be fraternizing with Cass. But clearly, the idea is amusing to her. And now I’ve got to spend the next two nights sleeping next to her, knowing I can’t have her.

“You okay?” she asks.

I force a smile on my face. “Yeah. Oh hey, I forgot to mention yesterday—Betty gave us some freebies as an apology for the room mix-up.”

I tell her about the drinks and the Empire State tickets. Her eyes light up and it’s like a candle flame igniting in my chest. Her joy makes her beauty radiate even more.

“Wicked!” she exclaims. “We’ve got to look at hotels for New York.”

“I can do that while you train,” I offer.

“That would be great,” Cass says, beaming. She seems to be walking on clouds as we climb onto the shuttle and head to Windy Acres. There’s a bounce in her gait, a lightness to each step.

Windy Acres is busier than it was yesterday. The show starts tomorrow, and it looks like all the competitors have finally arrived. Lisa is running about frantically, giving us a wave and blushing when she sees me.

Cass heads to tack up Gal and I immediately check on the Morgan horse with possible Cushing’s. He looks a bit better today than he did yesterday, so I assume Lisa changed his diet. I wish I had access to my supplies here—I’d love to run some tests on him.

The practice rings are bustling this morning, and we end up having to share a ring with Scott and Rosa. It means we have a smaller area for training—not quite enough space for the bow tie fan, but I set up the figure eights with Gary’s help. The other trainers are calling things out to their riders, so I decide to as well. Got to look like I’m good for something.

“Well done, Cass!” I call as she weaves among the low poles.

She shoots me a grin and shakes her head. “You’re going overboard with the support, Jaz.”

“Keep your bloody ankles flexed,” I shout, and she laughs and gives me the middle finger.

But she relaxes. I can see it, see her sink into the saddle, see her focus shift. It’s like the world around her falls away, narrowing to a point where there are only the low poles and Gal’s consistent strides. She finishes and trots up to me, her chin jutting out in a stubborn point.

“Flexed enough for you?” she says smugly.

I shrug. “Could be better.”

She narrows her eyes.

“Let’s do pole work,” I suggest. “Practice some flying turns like the ones you did yesterday.”

“Fine,” she says. I set up a sequence for her, smaller since we have less space.

“Get those hands down,” I call as she starts the route.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snaps, but there’s a teasing note to her voice as she heads to the first jump. She’s gorgeous, sailing over the oxer with ease. Gal really is fast—faster than Rosa’s stallion or Scott’s Westphalian. Gal makes the turns so precisely you’d think she was on a track. Cass pops up a little on one of the jumps and I cup my hands and shout, “Bottom down!”

“Stop staring at my bottom, you perv,” she says as she flies past me at a canter.

I laugh even as my stomach twists. I can’t stop staring her every part of her, tensed and focused.

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