Page 25 of Saddles & Suits

“Damn right I did,” she mutters, but I’m already walking away, headed back to where I left Seb.

Who’s talking to someone.

Oh fuck, it’s my father.

Holding in my groan, I join them and stand solidly beside Seb. “Hi, Dad.”

He looks me up and down the way he always does, as though assessing whether I’m up to standard. “John. That was a somewhat sentimental speech.”

“I liked it,” Seb pipes in before I can reply. “Warwick would have loved the part about his steely grip.”

I smile gratefully at him, but Dad’s brow rises. “You knew Warwick?”

“Have you two been introduced?” I cut in. “Sebastian Walker, Thomas Tarrant. Seb was Uncle Warwick’s protégé at Bliss Vale, Dad.”

Comprehension dawns on my father’s face. “Ah, yes. He mentioned you.” Somehow, Dad manages to make that sound like an insult.

“He mentioned you too,” Seb replies cheerfully, which piques Dad’s interest. He’s not used to people who don’t fawn all over him and cower when he’s rude.

“I bet he did. Probably with some colorful language. Warwick and I were close, but we didn’t always see eye to eye.” He sighs, and for a second, I see the grief I knew he felt but that he’s so good at hiding.

Then it’s gone. “So, what brings you here tonight, Sebastian?”

“Seb, please,” Seb corrects, then glances at me, unsure what to say.

“Seb came with me. We’re seeing each other. It’s actually pretty serious.” I snap my mouth shut, because Dad isn’t the kind of parent who invites confidences like that.

He doesn’t look surprised. “Your mother said you wanted to bring someone to Christmas.”

I nod. “Yes. Seb.”

“I suppose we’ll have time to talk on Christmas Eve, then.” He nods to Seb, then walks away. Seb watches him go.

“That was… not what I expected.”

“That wasbetterthan I expected,” I retort. “Trust me.”

“Just one thing.”

“Yeah?” I admire the way the tux jacket fits his shoulders and wonder how soon I can get him out of it.

“I didn’t know your name was John.”

ChapterFourteen

Seb

It’smid-January before I get time to go for a real ride again. I’ve been taking Stark out for exercise, and Jack and I have had some short rides when he’s been down—because even though the foundation offices were officially closed for two weeks over the Christmas/New Year break, he was still working, getting things organized for his projects in the new year. I get why, of course—when you might have to drop everything to deal with a disaster at any minute, it pays to not let administrative tasks slide.

But with him working, and those two weeks being our busiest time for trail rides, I haven’t had much time off myself. I fixed that this morning—now that most companies have reopened their offices and the Australian Open has begun, there are a lot fewer tourists around, and the team, plus our summer casuals, can handle things. So I saddled Stark, grabbed water and snacks for us both, and went for a long ride.

By the time we get back—both of us tired and a little sweaty but so very happy—it’s almost noon. I cross tie Stark in the wide, empty hallway and begin the process of unsaddling and then grooming him. He deserves a thorough brushing today and then plenty more water.

“Seb?” Chris says from behind me, and there’s something in his voice that makes me straighten and turn. He looks like he’s been sucking on a lemon. “Why don’t I finish that for you? There’s a visitor waiting in the office.”

“Really?” A visitor? “Who?” And why does Chris dislike this person so much?

His mouth twists. “Jack’s brother.”

---