Page 35 of My Queendom for a Horse

He does not look pleased.

“Mirdza’s here,” he says.

Blast. I knew she taught lessons on Tuesdays. Why didn’t I find a spare second to call her?

Oh, I know. Because I’ve been plagued by Aleks since the second we arrived back home.

I told Dad she brought Aleks here, but she had no idea about the lie.

“Where is she?” I try my best not to wince. Dad sounds mad, but maybe it’s not what I think. If I’ve learned anything in my more than thirty years of life, it’s never to make things worse for myself.

Wait, watch, and observe. Only then, react.

“She’s here.” Mirdza’s grimacing when she steps around the edge of the door and waves. “This must be Aleksandr.” She forces a half smile.

“He only speaks Russian,” I say quickly.

“Why would you lie? Mirdza doesn’t know who he is or anything about him.” Dad frowns.

I can’t really blame him, but I’m scrambling for a better lie and coming up short.

From the corner of my eye, I notice movement and turn toward it. Anything to distract them and buy me a bit of time to think.

John’s striding toward the house from the barn, and he looks ticked. He’s not even close yet when he shouts, “You hired a new trainer?”

Why do bad things always converge at the same time and place?

“I bet my life savings on the Champion Chase at Down Royal, and I won, and then I spent my winnings on a horse no one else wanted. You’re both upset. I get it.” I put my hands on my hips. The one thing I learned from my American grandparents is that the best defense is a good offense. “But guess what? They’re my winnings. And I hired a trainer for my new horse who’s willing to work for just room and board.” I spin on my heel to face my dad again. “And let me remind you. I had to have lunch with my ex-boyfriend today because we needed money to pay a debt that you incurred.” I fold my arms underneath my chest and huff.

John gulps.

Dad looks at his feet.

Mirdza’s eyes light up like things just got interesting.

“Later,” I mouth to her.

She nods.

“I’ll call,” I mouth again.

Then I stomp up the stairs before the guys unwind enough to realize that I didn’t answer a single question or explain my lie in any way.

The anger wasn’t feigned, I realize, as my booted feet hit the wooden steps. I’m kind of livid. Yes, I’m lying about where Aleks came from, but I’m not doing it for a bad reason.

I worked for a decade to repay my student debt and then save enough for a down payment on a horse hospital. And I had to risk my entire life savings to try and save Dad from himself. I won, and then I did something that was probably stupid. I bought a horse who turned out not to be a horse at all, and now my ex-boyfriend is back saying things I wish he’d said a decade ago, and I’m tired of dealing with all of it.

All. Of. It.

When I turn to slam my bedroom door behind me, Aleks is standing there, staring at me. I guess with all my stomping, I didn’t even notice his enormous footfalls right behind me.

And of course he had to follow me up here. He’s certainly not going to try and talk to Dad—whose Russian is broken at best—or Mirdza, since she doesn’t know the story.

And John clearly hates him.

Even so, I find myself annoyed with him, too. “What?” I ask.

“You’re a little bit scary,” he says.

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