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)
I kissed him again, then moved to my mounting block only to hear, “I think not, fucker!” I climbed on Huxley and looked to Sage, who was storming away from Atticus, who was laughing as he put on his hat. Chris, his groom, had Lord Barnaby ready at his side. Atticus was in all white too, but for his jet-black jacket and boots. I had to say, as a team we looked good.
“What did I miss?” I asked Mila, as I bent down and tightened my girth.
“Atticus’s first offer to Sage was a kiss, with tongue,” Mila said, fighting a chuckle. “When Sage refused that, he offered that whoever won out of the two of them, when interviewed after the ride, had to say how much they admired the other, and just how good of a rider they were.”
“Ouch,” I said, grimacing. If Sage had to wax lyrical about Atticus, I feared she would throw up in the process.
“You just know you’re going to lose, Miller!” Atticus shouted to Sage and jumped on Barnaby, no mounting block needed. He looked like a beautiful demonic soldier on his pitch-black horse with his long black hair and dark Knighton eyes.
Sage rage-tightened her chin strap, then as she clicked to steer Fefe out of the stalls and toward the practice ring, she passed by Atticus and said, “Fine, you’re on. Prepare to kiss my ass!”
“Is that a real offer? Because your wish will be my command,” he shouted back, and Sage flicked her middle finger at him as she walked away.
I halted Huxley next to Atticus and said, “You’re playing with fire with Sage.” I smirked at Atticus, who shrugged.
“Hals, fucking with her has quite literally become my favorite thing to do in life.” He threw me his panty-melting smile, the one that had girls swooning in the stands. It didn’t work on me, of course. I apparently liked my Knightons less friendly and more dictatorial. Atticus was too approachable and amiable. I preferred aloof and tortured.
Atticus’s eyes closed, then he bit his bottom lip and groaned. “And we have all tour together, Hals. All. Bloody. Tour. Mmpf.” He shook his head and opened his eyes. “What a year we’re going to have.”
I laughed, shaking my head, and we walked from the stalls side by side. Just as we hit the warm-up ring, Atticus must have seen a glimmer of nerves on my face, as he said, “You’ve got this, you know?” I looked at him, and all his teasing humor had faded; only confidence was in his expression. He nodded his head at Sage, who was walking Fefe on a loose rein, warming her up. “You both do.”
“Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot, coming from you.” I leaned closer. “But let’s not tell Sage you think she’ll kick ass. It’ll only make her see you as weak.” Atticus winked at me, and Leon came to stand at my side.
Our trainer’s game face was on. “Tough course,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
He patted Huxley’s neck. “Slow and steady. You know the drill. You can do it,” he said, and opened the gate to the practice ring. Two jumps were in the center, each approaching the maximum height we’d see on the course. I nodded in greeting at the other riders warming up. A large screen on the wall displayed the action in the main arena. The commentators were talking, then the camera zoomed in on a familiar face in a private box—Jasper, standing next to Abdul Hashim. Jasper looked beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen, and my heart skipped a beat.
I really was pathetic for this man.
I barely heard what the commentators were saying about him, but when footage from this event two years ago here in Doha came up, Jasper winning the jump-off on Henry, I couldn’t help but watch in awe.
Like flying . . .
When it cut back to Jasper, he was laughing at something Abdul said. The camera caught him in a rare moment of lightness, and he was stunning. Then the view moved from Jasper to the main arena, where none other than Jake McGowen trotted into the ring on his sixteen-three-hand mare. The order of jumpers was picked at random. One thing was for sure: Jake, as much as his reputation was battered, was a hell of a rider and would no doubt set the tone for the rest of the class.
I drew my attention from the screen and focused on warming Huxley up enough that I could begin to jump the practice fences. A hush from the arena descended, and when I looked at the screen, Jake was just clearing the last fence. The audience lifted in applause and Jake leaned down to pat his mare’s neck. He’d jumped a clear and his smile was wide. Atticus trotted up beside me and said, “His time is beatable. Head down and git ’er done.” I raised my eyebrow at Atticus, fighting a laugh. “What?” he said, all innocence. “That’s what you Texans say, right?”