Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Bringing Henry to a steady trot, then a walk, I rested my cheek on his neck and said, “I’m so sorry, boy. I’m sorry you’ve been grounded from what you love. It’s my fault. I’ve failed you.” My throat felt thick, and I stayed in the arena a while longer, letting him jump again, just to give him some kind of enjoyment. Resolve built within me. “I’ll make it right,” I said to Henry. “Somehow, I’ll make it right and get you airborne again.”
As we cooled down, I noticed a figure in the doorway. My heart slammed into my rib cage until I noticed it wasn’t the petite, raven-haired beauty I’d hoped it was.
Forrest was watching us. I waved at my cousin, and as I approached, he said, “I’m getting Aurelia tacked up. I want a go at this course.”
I raised my eyebrow. “You think you can clear it?”
Forrest ran his hand down Henry’s nose when we came to a stop in front of him. “My queen can do anything she sets her mind to,” he said, and I dismounted. After Henry was turned out in the field, I joined Forrest back in the barn. He was brushing down Aurelia. We had many grooms at Golden Oaks who could do this for us, but none of us had ever gotten tired of grooming or tacking up our horses ourselves. Plus, this section of the barn was our private sanctuary. A place only we family members came . . .
Well, us, and a certain Texan cowgirl who had a penchant for breaking in.
Forrest took a curry comb from his brush box and began clearing the mud from Aurelia’s coat after her day rolling in the wet field. “I’d ride him, you know.” Forrest said, never missing a beat. I frowned at my cousin. “If you went on the tour, I mean.” Forrest changed brushes to one for Aurelia’s mane. As he pulled through her knotty strands, he said, “You know I’d take care of him. I love all our horses as if they were my own.”
I sighed. “Have you been talking to Atticus by any chance?”
“No,” Forrest said. Bluntly. And I knew he meant it. He turned to me. “Get away from this place for a bit, Jas. Go to Doha.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Remind yourself of the joy of this business and not just the threats and tragedy you’ve been blinded by.” A smirk pulled on his lips. “Go and watch your girl jump.”
“She’s not my girl,” I said, clearly too emphatically, if Forrest’s responding sarcastic chuckle was anything to go by.
“I am capable of watching this place. And Genny,” he said, when I opened my mouth to say just that. “Just go on the first leg of the tour. You can micromanage everything there the way you love to here.”
I moved to Aurelia’s head and ran my hand along her cheek. She was so soft natured for a mare, and her eyes were closing under my touch, content to be pampered. My cousin spoiled her rotten. Said often that she was the only reliable female in his life.
“I don’t know what’s best to do,” I confessed, letting my cousin in a little to how I’d been feeling.
Forrest stopped brushing Aurelia and faced me. “Go. Fucking hell, Cousin. Give yourself a few weeks away. You won’t settle knowing our riders are over there alone without their leader.” He smiled sadly. “You were always meant to be on those tours. And it’ll put your mind at ease seeing that everything is in place with the new security you’ve hired. And that Atticus and the girls are as safe as they can be.”
I turned to Aurelia and began fussing her again. I was being pulled from pillar to post inside. I had no idea what the right thing was to do. But when I thought about not seeing our riders compete in person, and about not seeing Hallie for weeks on end . . .
I gave up fighting.
Clutching my briefcase in my hand, I practically dived from the car in the family hangar and ran for the stairs to my jet. The engines were on, and I could hear the staff readying for takeoff.
Emma, the lead air hostess, startled when I reached the top step. She was preparing the drinks. “Mr. Knighton!” she said. “I didn’t expect to see you on board today.” Emma had been the leading air hostess for us for years now. She was in her late fifties, and it was good to see her. I treasured loyalty more than ever these days.
Emma’s eyes brightened. “Are you competing again?”
I shook my head. I wondered if the pain I felt whenever I answered this question would ever be less agonizing. “No. Strictly here to make sure my team is looked after.”