Page 54 of Growing Into Love

“You’re never stupid,” Jaz says vehemently. “Gal is faster than all of them, remember? She jumps like she’s got springs on her hooves. God, Cass, when the two of you ride, you’re like one heart and soul. That’s special, that is. That’s a connection not many have. You think Nigella and Prince Bloody William have that sort of relationship? Not likely. I’d bet my career on it.”

I shoot him a sullen glance. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Obviously,” he says, exasperated. “But that doesn’t mean what I’m saying isn’t true.” Nigella leads Prince into the ring to run over my course, the oneIjust set up. And she nails every jump perfectly. I didn’t think I could get any angrier.

“All right, that’s it,” Jaz says, standing and brushing the grass from his jeans. “No more training.”

“What?”

“You’re all out of sorts. Let’s go get a tour of the farm. I’d love to see the other horses. We’ll get back to training later. It’s not like you need it anyway. You’re a terrific jumper, Cass, and you know it.”

He looms over me, one hand extended, his eyes flashing as if daring me to argue.

I cock my head. “Seriously? You’re my trainer and you want me to stop training?”

“I’m no trainer. I’m here to supportyou. And right now, the best way to do that is to get you the fuck away from Nigella.”

Honestly, the thought of riding again makes my chest hurt. What would Del say though?

Del’s not here, I remind myself. I had a glass of champagne last night and that didn’t kill me. Del would never have allowed that.

“Okay,” I say, taking his hand. He pulls me up hard and I bump into him. The feel of his chest against mine sends shivers through me. I have a brief, fleeting memory of lying in bed next to him last night, the quiet sound of his breath in the darkness, the ache that blossomed between my thighs. Even when he makes me so damn mad, I still can’t stop loving him. “Maybe Lisa can give us a tour,” I say.

“Excellent. She’s a rather silly girl, isn’t she? She always laughs at me.”

“Oh Jaz,” I sigh, shaking my head.

Lisa is thrilled to give us a tour—she turns pink when Jaz addresses her directly. He’s effortlessly kind to her as she takes us around the various barns and chatters on about the different horses. Some are here for the competition, others live at the stables and are used for classes, others are boarders. I feel myself begin to relax again in the calming presence of the horses. There’s one enormous old stallion with a graying muzzle that I take an instant liking to. His name is Stars and Stripes—cue my eye roll—and he’s so mild mannered. I feed him a bit of carrot as Lisa tells us about his history showing as one of their top jumpers.

“He’s arthritic now,” she says sadly. “He can’t jump anymore and classes wear him out. Miriam, she runs Windy Acres, is thinking about selling him.”

“To who?” I ask.

Lisa shrugs. “I’m not sure who would want to take him, unfortunately. He’s such a sweet guy but…” Her voice trails off. Stars and Stripes nudges my hand with his nose and gently crunches his carrot.

“No one would want him because he’s old and infirm,” I finish for her.

“Stabling a horse is expensive,” Lisa says.

“You sound like my brother,” I growl.

Lisa glances at Jaz, confused.

“They’re a very happy family,” he assures her. I growl again. “For the most part,” he adds.

“I’m going to start a sanctuary at the farm my family runs,” I tell Lisa, daring Jaz to say something stupid about a business plan again.

Lisa’s green eyes go wide. “Wow,” she says. “That’s awesome!” Her gaze flits to Jaz. “I’d love to come visit someday.”

“Oak Hill is a really special place,” Jaz says. His eyes burn into mine, brimming with some deep emotion. My stomach flips. He blinks and rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe we’d better get back to training. Why don’t you show me how to walk a course? That way I might be of some use to you when you do it on Friday.”

That’s actually not a bad idea.

Nigella has finished her training session and is nowhere to be seen, thank god. The practice course is still set up and Jaz and I enter the ring.

“The jumps will be numbered,” I say, “But I like to keep track of them by details I can easily see. Like that one I’d call purple stripes. And this one, let’s pretend it’s all red, so I would think red. Or maybe green-and-yellow for a green and yellow oxer. Or flowers if there are flowers at the base. The last thing I want to do is go off-course. Which means I’d jump out of order.”

“I knew that one,” Jaz says.

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