Nacho Figueras Presents (15 page)

G
eorgia stood at the back of the barn, watching Noni shoe a pony. Noni's arms were flexed—sinewy and muscular—as she leaned into a gray mare, fitting on the new shoe with unusual economy of movement. Enzo stood by, comforting the horse, slowly scratching at the base of his mane.

Georgia felt, rather than heard, Alejandro's presence as he stepped up behind her

“So,” he said softly into her ear, “I see you've met my sister the blacksmith. She's very good, isn't she?”

Georgia turned to him and felt her body burn with memories of the night before. “Noni is your sister? I hadn't realized.”

“It's a complicated story. I'll tell you some other time. But for now, will you join me for a walk around the yard? We should talk.”

She nodded and followed him out the back way. She felt compromised and confused. She didn't know if she wanted to kiss him or yell at him.

They stood at a corral and watched a small colt frolic with his dam. Alejandro kept his eyes on the horses. “This was not how I planned for your first day to go,” he said stiffly.

Georgia frowned. “Yes, well, it might have been nice if the man I am working under had been informed of my existence.”

“Yes. A team miscommunication. I'm sorry you had to go through that. I assure you that Dr. Gustavo has fallen into line.”

Privately, Georgia very much doubted that, but she bit her tongue.

“As for what happened between us last night…” He paused, his face flushed. “I take full responsibility. I would feel very unhappy if my thoughtless behavior in any way made you uncomfortable or compromised your working here.”

She looked up at him. “You were hardly alone in what happened, Alejandro. I was obviously a more than willing partner.”

“Yes, well, thank you for saying so. But it is my responsibility, as your employer, not to put you into the kind of position—”

She let out a little huff of frustration. “Honestly, I am more worried about your behavior this morning compromising my position than I am about anything that happened last night.”

His jaw clenched. “I said it was a mistake, and I have corrected—”

“How can you expect me to recover from the scene you made? The whole barn thinks I'm a laughingstock.”

He looked at her. “The scene I made? I don't understand how—”

“You dressing Gustavo down in front of the entire barn, shouting like that, do you think that somehow helped me?”

Spots of red appeared on his cheekbones. “I was defending you.”

“I don't need to be defended. I simply needed you to remember to tell people that I actually work here.”

They were silent for a moment, glaring at each other.

He let out a long breath. “Yes, well, they all know that now. And as for last night…”

For an excruciating moment, their eyes met, and a longing that was almost tangible flashed between them before Georgia forced herself to look away. “It was a mistake,” she said. “It won't happen again.”

His lips thinned, and he nodded. “Indeed.”

A
lejandro fed the bit into Temper's mouth and then swung up to ride. He wanted nothing so much as to escape the barn and everyone connected to it. He wished he were back at home and could gallop until there was nothing around him but pampas grass and sky, but he supposed hitting the ball as hard as he possibly could would have to do instead.

Temper was a revelation. He was made to play the game. He moved like a cat out on the field, stopping on a dime, doubling back, making the tightest possible turns at the highest possible speeds. But what should have been glorious fun for Alejandro felt like drudgery. He could not shake the look on Georgia's face, the sound of her voice when she had told him that last night had been a mistake. It rang in his ears on repeat.

It was ludicrous. She was absolutely right, of course. It had been a mistake. But even as she was saying it, he was imagining her wet and naked, splayed out under him. He was remembering the way her skin had burned on his, the way she had writhed against him. He couldn't understand what had overtaken him since he met her. He scarcely recognized himself. He had felt desire before, of course, and had acted upon it—he was no saint—and there had been warmth and love between himself and Olivia, especially at the beginning of his marriage, but what he felt when he was with Georgia was something altogether new. New and dangerous. Perhaps this is what obsession was. But he could not afford to have an obsession other than polo. There were already far too many unmanageable things in his life—the lost games, his brother's indolence, his mother's disapproval, his daughter's detachment. He needed more discipline in his life, more restraint, not this wild, unruly tempest that left him winded and aching.

He slammed his mallet against the ball and watched it spin across the field at a dizzying pace. It was six weeks. Surely he could find a way to control himself for six weeks. He would avoid her except when absolutely necessary, he would force himself to be as brusque and distant as possible, he would remind himself of his professional duties, and he would exhaust himself on the field. He had gone without for so long—it was practically second nature—and it was better this way. No one would get hurt.

He wheeled Temper around and headed back to the barn.

I
n the absence of any helpful direction from Gustavo, who seemed to spend his entire time standing around drinking the bitter green tea the Argentines called
maté
with everyone other than her, Georgia spent her time going from stall to stall, inspecting the ponies, memorizing health records, assessing temperaments, and questioning the grooms on all the details of barn procedures. She hated being more of a burden than a help but figured she had a license this first day to ask as many clueless questions as she liked and that she should take full advantage.

She did her best to avoid Alejandro, which was not too difficult since it seemed that he was trying to give her a wide berth as well. She caught a glimpse of him and Temper out on the field at one point and could not help stopping to watch them. They were so elegant in motion.

By the end of the day, despite feeling that she had not accomplished much more than familiarizing herself with the place, she was exhausted. Her feet ached from her new boots, which she quickly realized were entirely inappropriate for her work, but were the only ones she had, and her head ached from all that she had left undone, and she was more than happy to catch a quick ride back to the
hacienda
with Enzo, who was heading into town.

The pool house seemed a refreshing mirage after her hard and dusty day. Someone had been in to clean, straightening up what little mess Georgia had left behind that morning and pulling the blinds so the little house was cool and dim when she entered. There was a large vase of white lilies, accented with trailing vines of golden honeysuckle, left on the coffee table, and their scent sweetened the air.

Georgia took off her boots, poured herself a glass of wine, and stretched out on the couch for a moment, luxuriating in the novelty of having time on her hands. It was such a change to have no one to think of but herself. No animals to feed. No dad to appease. Oh, she thought, as she saw the reflected light from the pool rippling across the ceiling, a swim might be just the thing.

She pulled on her old string bikini and walked back out into the golden twilight. The turquoise water sparkled invitingly, and as she dove in, she felt all the tensions and worries of her day wash away.

She'd loved swimming in college, and it was great to feel the muscle memory kick in. These last months at the farm had been bleak, her body felt perpetually hunched and cold. Of course, tending the animals and doing her chores had been a sort of exercise—and there wasn't time for anything else—but as she felt her muscles loosen in the warm water, she sighed with pleasure. A private pool was an unbelievable opulence, and yet another thing she shouldn't get used to.

Inevitably, her mind circled back to the events of the night before. She'd done a decent job of pushing them aside during the day, fueled by the desire to prove herself after her disastrous beginnings, but here she was, after all, in the same waters where it had all began. There was no escape from the memories now.

What if she weren't working for Alejandro? It was a ridiculous line of thought, of course, because if she weren't employed by him, she would be back in New York shoveling snow. But she let her mind wander a bit, imagining that, for some reason, she was here as a guest, and that there would be a chance meeting in the pool. She would wear a simple white two-piece and a pair of vintage Wayfarer sunglasses and look unbelievably old-school glamorous, and he would wear…well, nothing at all, of course, since that was obviously how he liked to swim.

She shook her head and circled back under the water, turning for one more lap before pulling herself up the steps and toweling off.

No more of that
, she thought as she walked resolutely back to the pool house. Fantasies like that were nothing but lit dynamite.

She took a long shower, enjoying the delicious-smelling shampoo and conditioner, taking time to shave her legs and groom every last inch of herself. Reveling in the luxury of not just the expensive lotions and potions, but the time to put them on. She was more aware of her body here in Wellington than she'd been in years.

She slipped into a little pink tank dress from the collection of clothing that Billy had pressed on her before he left and then checked her fridge. It had been replenished during the day. There was a poached filet of salmon, some lemon and mint-strewn couscous, and a delicious-looking endive salad. Someone had apparently decided she deserved dessert as well, because there was a dangerously appealing flourless chocolate cake just the right size for one greedy person.

She poured herself another glass of wine and took her little feast outside to eat poolside as she watched the sun make its slow and showy descent.

Just as she'd finished the last bite of cake, the back door of the main house opened and two large and handsome Rhodesian Ridgebacks bounded out, followed by Pilar, calling after them.

The dogs ran straight to Georgia, wagging their tails and sniffing at her, hoping for whatever leftovers she might be willing to spare.

“
Lo siento
,” called Pilar as she hurried to catch up. “They are friendly,
Doctora
. I swear. They have no manners, but they wouldn't hurt a fly.”

Georgia laughed and patted the dogs happily. “Oh, I can tell.” She scratched the dogs behind their ears. “You're a couple of sweet girls, aren't you?”

Pilar smiled. “I hope you are comfortable in the pool house?”

“Yes, thank you. It's absolutely wonderful.”

“I was worried,” Pilar said, “that you might feel like you're in a
pecera
—a fish bowl. Jandro told me that he accidentally woke you last night?”

“Oh,” said Georgia, blushing and wondering, yet again, just how close this mother and son were, “I mean, I guess I did hear him swimming…” She trailed off.

Pilar cocked her head, and Georgia thought she detected a subtle look of surprise in her eyes. “Well, we do not usually swim at two in the morning,” Pilar said. “And now that he knows you're living here, I'm sure you will not be disturbed again.”

Georgia smiled and nodded, trying to ignore the sharp pang of disappointment she felt.

“Oh, and will you come for dinner Sunday night? Nine? Very informal.”

“I'd be happy to,” Georgia stuttered, pleased she'd been made so welcome, but immediately panicked about having to face Alejandro across the table.

“
Bueno.
I will walk my dogs now. Please let me know if there is anything you need.”

Georgia watched the slim, upright figure of the Del Campo matriarch walk away, flanked by her two matching, caramel-colored dogs.

D
r. Gustavo was there to greet Georgia the next morning when she walked into the barn. He turned to her with a big, slick smile and a show of exaggerated gallantry. “Ah, so good to have you with us, Dr. Fellowes,” he said. “I'm sure that your equine experience will be invaluable. I am looking forward to hearing all about where you've been working.”

He barely paused, not bothering to give Georgia time to respond.

“No? Well, experience or no, I'm sure a vet so thoughtful and lovely will enhance us in every possible way.”

Georgia met his eye. He wasn't even trying to be subtle, the old goat. “I'll do my best,” she said as sweetly as she could manage. “I'm sure you have much to teach me, Doctor.”

And for that first week, as long as Alejandro or Hendy was within earshot, Gustavo did teach her, loudly lecturing her on the vagaries of the barn.

“The extreme heat and humidity here make it imperative that the ponies are checked over several times a day,” Gus pompously instructed her as he ran a currycomb through the coat of a glossy black mare. “Even the tiniest cut can turn into a summer sore practically overnight if it's neglected.”

Georgia shuddered, imagining one of these obscenely expensive animals going down with a fly-blown wound on her watch.

“The feet have to be especially tended to, as well,” he said. “The sand is very hard on the hooves.”

She nodded, jotting down notes as fast as he talked.

“And be alert for equine herpes,” added Gus. “That's a plague in Wellington.”

But when the team captain or
patrón
moved out of hearing, the curtain came down, and the show was over. Gustavo could be halfway through a sentence, but as soon as he realized it was just the two of them, he would immediately stop talking and turn his back. For all his unctuous public flirting, he clearly loathed Georgia. He did whatever he could to poison the rest of the staff against her. He was the master of a low aside in Spanish to a sycophantic groom just as Georgia entered a stall, or an undermining parting shot as she left it, and if any story could be told at her expense, he made sure it was.

Georgia was astonished by his overt hostility, but hoping to find her own solution to the problem, she didn't complain, and even if she had wanted to, she wasn't sure just whom she could complain to. Alejandro was obviously doing his best to avoid her—all but doing an about-face every time he saw her—and after that disastrous first day, she didn't want anyone else on the team to think she couldn't handle her own business.

She felt helpless to change the dynamic and completely at sea when it came to making herself useful. Gustavo was determined to exclude her from all veterinary work, and with the army of grooms and students, she couldn't even keep herself busy in other, nonmedical ways around the barn.

Her only solace was Sugar. Gustavo felt the little pony was nothing but an embarrassing mongrel, a stain on the honor of the barn. He made it quite clear he wanted nothing to do with her foaling when the time came and left all her care to Georgia. Anytime Georgia had a spare second or felt in danger of Gustavo getting her down, she'd pop in to see the mare with an apple or a fistful of hay. Sugar turned out to be the smartest pony Georgia had ever known, uncannily aware of Georgia's moods, and always had a trick or a nuzzle for her whenever she felt low. There was more than one day that first week when Georgia felt the only friend she had was the little horse, and if it hadn't been for Sugar, she would have been entirely alone in the barn.

Alejandro noticed that Georgia was struggling, and though he couldn't prove it, he suspected that Gustavo was somehow undercutting her behind the scenes. But every time he turned her way, determined to discuss it, he would stop himself, alarmed by the feeling of his heart beating triple time, certain that he could not be trusted to talk to her in an intimate way and not find himself wanting more.

Still, one day when he passed by Sugar's stall and saw Georgia inside, her curly head bent as she combed the little pony, he could not resist the chance to connect.

“We should see that foal any day now, eh?” he said as he attempted to casually lean against the stall door.

Georgia looked up, startled. Her hazel eyes were red and swollen, the long lashes tangled and wet. Alejandro felt a jolt of alarm.

“
Que te pasa
?” he spoke urgently. “What happened? What's wrong?”

She smiled a watery little half smile and quickly looked away. “Nothing,” she said. “I'm fine.”

“You're obviously not fine.” He felt a welling of fierce anger at whoever had made her this unhappy. “Did Gustavo—”

“No, no, no,” she interrupted. “Please, I'm fine, Alejandro. Just tired, maybe a little homesick, you know?”

He tried to read her eyes, not trusting her assurances, needing to wipe the look of distress off her face. “Come with me,” he said abruptly. “I have something to show you.”

She looked at him a moment and then nodded, storing the grooming tools and following him to a corner of the barn, where he showed her the ladder to the hayloft.

“Have you been up yet?” he asked.

She shook her head, puzzled. “The hayloft? No, why would I?”

He motioned for her to go up, and after a second of hesitation, she ascended the ladder. He felt a rush of heat to his groin as he watched her luscious rear, clad in tight jeans, climbing ahead of him, remembering the moment when he had pressed himself against her naked back. He tried to push the image away as he started to climb after her, but when he saw her foot slip slightly on the rung, he automatically reached up and put his hand to the small of her back—steadying her.

She stopped climbing and went very still. She clearly had regained her footing, but he left his hand where it was, unable to break the contact between them. He could not see her face, but he felt her breathing grow ragged, was keenly aware of the pulse of energy that rocketed between him, felt his entire body go rigid with desire.

“Thank you. I'm okay,” she whispered hoarsely.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his hand away as if he'd been burned. When he opened them again, she had slipped up through a hole to the loft, into the light-filled space above him.