Page 44 of Home to the Hollow

Flashing my badge as I roll up to the gate to the employee entrance, I zoom past the guard from last week with a cheeky grin. He’ll never forget me now that I saved his ass from the devil woman, I’m sure. It’s always a good plan to make friends with people in low-level positions because you never know when they’re going to be the exact person you need later. Plus, everyone ignores guards and grooms and maids and shit. It’s bullshit.

My car slides into the spot marked with a shiny fresh sign with my name on it and I chuckle at the old-world style power play it represents. This is Jamie’s way of ensuring that chick knows every time she pulls into the lot that her space—next to mine—says administrative assistant and mine has my name on it. That should help keep her in line if I have to breeze by the office at any point.

Jekyll and Hyde hop out of the car, giving me happy cat smiles that are hysterical with the aviators. Euryale glides down, landing on the roof of the car, looking at me as if waiting for instructions. I walk to the trunk, pulling out a bag with clean riding gear and slinging it over my shoulder. Once I shut it, I look at my companions.

“Okay, guys. I’m going for a ride. I need to work out my frustration, and you’re free to roam, according to Jamie.Stay awayfrom the office and that bitch Agatha. Euryale, you can swoop and soar, but stay high enough that you don’t spook anyone.”

The trio of animals honk or meow their acceptance and I leave them to wander as I make my way to the employee restrooms. I find a cushy staff locker room and claim a locker to store my precious bag and clothes in. The directions for the electronic locks are easy enough to follow—which means they’d be even easier to hack into—and I shove my things in after I strip down. Pulling on my socks, then my breeches, I chuckle as I remember the last time I came here to ride.

My underwear isn’t as ugly this time, but they should suffice for a quick jaunt.

Once I get my boots on, I tuck my phone into the side pocket, grab my gloves, and head for the stables.

It’s time to fly.

* * *

As the scenery goes by,I beam. Riding is one of the few things that can calm my mind when I get trapped in the black hole of the past. The women giggling in the background of that meeting in that building brought back every terrible memory, and I’m having trouble disassociating from the girl I used to be and the woman I am now. It doesn’t matter that I’ve travelled the world, dined with princes, or even that I fucked the great and powerful Edgar Olivier Boone III.

I’m a lonely, chubby girl with distant parents and a yearning to be accepted.

High school is absolute bullshit, and anyone who tells you differently is living in a dream world. Regardless of what automatic bonus they had to make them popular—talent, looks, money, fame—they started the race in the middle of the track. The rest of us had to pant our way through the whole route. I didn’t expect to have to do it again at work, but it’s obvious I will.

I have to learn to compartmentalize my childhood trauma and channel the bad bitch I’ve become.

The palomino I’m riding whinnies like it agrees, and I chuckle. If I don’t figure this out, I’m going to lose my mind and start talking to every animal I encounter. That habit won’t endear me to my colleagues, so I gotta get my head on straight.

Damn. I wish I’d brought my headphones, but that’s a dangerous proposition on a horse I don’t know very well. I’ll get comfortable enough with the horses here to ride while listening, but safety first and all. Flicking the reins, I change the speed of our trot to a canter, and the pretty girl beneath me takes the head. I relish the wind in my hair and the rush of a full run, my hips rolling with the movement.

The sound of hooves thunders behind us, and I chuckle. Wolfie told me he’d find me, and though I’ve been out here moping for an hour, he didn’t disappoint. My lips curve and I lean down to the horse, whispering, “Let’s make him chase us, Arabella.”

With another flick and a press of my calves, I encourage the palo into a faster gallop, leaning down to cut through the wind as we race into the horizon. The beat of the hooves behind me picks up, and it occurs to me there are over four. In fact, it sounds more like eight.

Why does Wolfie have an extra horse with him?

Tugging on the reins, I urge the palomino to slow down until she comes to a halt. The thumps behind me also come to a stop as I slide from my saddle and turn to look. My jaw drops, and I’m stunned into silence as I take in the sight of my baby vet and the horse he brought with him. I can’t decide which one is more gorgeous, so I continue to stare like a hooked trout until my brain resumes functioning.

Wolfie is sitting on a beautiful chestnut Andalusian, shirtless, his smile bright and his skin glistening in the early afternoon sun. He’s holding the reins of a golden Akhal-Teke that looks like Rumpelstiltskin, himself spun its coat out of straw. I’ve never seen one in person, though I know how rare they are, and I can’t believe there’s one on Jamie’s farm. Given the expense and lineage of that breed, they are owned by sheikhs and princes.

“Where in the ass-reamingfuckdid you find that horse?” I practically shout. All three animals flinch, and I regret my shrill tone. “Sorry.”

His laugh is rich, the tanned skin of his face standing out against the whiteness of his perfect teeth. “Oh, sugarplum. You never mince words, do you?”

I roll my eyes and put my hands on my hips. “Are you gonna tell me where the Midas touch horse came from or sit there looking like a Greek god while you laugh at me?”

“I’m pretty sure I can do both, love.” Little Wolfie slides from his saddle, hitting the ground in a lithe motion that I could never imitate. “This is Mehdi, and she belongs to Jamie’s new friend from overseas. She arrived today without a word of warning, and he decided you were the only one he wanted to work with.”

Being the only trainer for a pureblood of this caliber is terrifying, especially since she doesn’t belong to the person who assigned me the task. I’m good with horses, but I’m not a professional trainer. Only people with years of experience should break in a horse this valuable. She could be a contender for the Crown in a few years, and formative training is a large part of that viability.

“No. No, no, no, no. Not in a million years, Wolfie. I won’t be responsible for some rich douche’s new toy being improperly trained and costing him Derby prospects.” My nose wrinkles as I approach the stunning mare, tracing my fingertips over her luminous coat. I can’t even do her justice with a description because in the sunlight, she looks like she belongs to Apollo himself.

“Sugarplum, I don’t think it was a request. Jamie told everyone that outside of grooming and checkups with me, this horse was off-limits. The trainers are fit to be tied—you can’t say no. It’ll only make it worse.”

Mehdi nickers, shaking her head as if agreeing. My eyes narrow and I step closer, looking at her. She tilts her head and jerks it back as if indicating that I should shut up and climb on. Indecision wars within me—I’ve had a rough day, and this is an astronomically expensive horse that I’ve never ridden before and she seems to want me to hop on bareback.

However, no one’s ever accused me of being a coward, and I won’t let this be the first time.

Steeling my spine, I grab a hold of her mane and swing myself up onto her back with my right leg. She’s taller than the palo by several hands, and if I hadn’t gotten a start, I might not have made it. Mehdi lets out a loud whinny, and I hold on as she rears back. She’s not trying to toss me, but she’s fucking excited, and before I can get my bearings, she takes off like a shot.

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