The a Circuit (5 page)

“By the way,” he added, “I have some exciting news.”

“Oh?” Tommi was already back on her feet, heading toward the fridge for some OJ.

“Your sister’s coming home next weekend.”

“Isn’t that nice, dear?” Mrs. Grigoryan cooed in her thick Armenian accent. “It will be so lovely to have Miss Callie around the place again, if only for a short while.”

“Callie’s coming home?” Tommi stopped for a moment, staring into the open refrigerator with surprise. Then she grabbed the orange juice carton and a glass and headed back out to rejoin her father. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. She just misses her family, I suppose,” her father said.

Tommi wasn’t sure how to feel about the news. This would be her older sister’s first trip back to New York since graduating from Yale in May and moving to DC to take a job on Capitol Hill. It would be nice to see her, of course.

On the other hand, she hadn’t really been gone that long. Definitely not long enough for Tommi to get used to the way everyone in her parents’ social circle had started talking about how Callie would probably be the first female president someday. Tommi didn’t doubt that at all, of course—what Callie wanted, Callie went out and got. But it always made her feel a little uncomfortable when people would finish the thought by glancing at
her
, as if wondering how little sister could possibly measure up.

Realizing her father was staring at her, waiting for a response, Tommi pasted on a smile. “That’s cool. When’s she coming? I’ve got a show next weekend, so I hope I get to see her.”

“Another show?” Her father’s smile faded. “How about you give this one a pass? It’s not every day your sister comes home.”

“I can’t skip the show.” Tommi felt her temper bubbling up, as it always did when her father refused to understand how important showing was to her. “Jamie’s counting on me, and everything’s already set.”

Her father was frowning now. “Well, I expect you to be here for Callie’s welcome-home dinner on Friday night. Your stepmother and Mrs. Grigoryan have a nice meal planned.”

Tommi opened her mouth to protest—she wasn’t afraid to say no to her father, even if half of Wall Street was—but then realized she didn’t have any classes scheduled until Saturday anyway. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll be here Friday for dinner. But I’m showing the rest of the weekend.”

Tommi was still stewing over her father’s news when she arrived at the barn later that morning. She stopped by Toccata’s stall to feed him a peppermint, then spotted Kate grooming a horse in the cross-ties nearby. Chaucer was dozing near the horse’s front end, while one of the other farm dogs, a young Lab mix named Hugo, sniffed around hopefully for interesting things to eat.

“Hey,” Kate greeted Tommi as Hugo bounded over to say hi. “How was your day off?”

Like many top stables, Pelham Lane was closed to clients on Mondays. It was Jamie’s day off, and a day for the staff to relax a bit and take care of things they didn’t have time to do the rest of the week—fixing or painting fences, doing maintenance work on the trailers and other vehicles, catching up on barn laundry. The farrier had a standing appointment, and if any horses needed shots or teeth floating or any other routine work, Monday was the day the vet came out as well.

Tommi knew that Jamie didn’t really mind if the more serious juniors wanted to come ride on Mondays, as long as they didn’t mind grooming and tacking up for themselves. And occasionally Tommi would take advantage of the quiet to come and school before a big show. But most of the time she tried to respect the rules and stay away.

“Boring,” she told Kate, rubbing Hugo’s floppy ears. “Did some shopping in the morning, then drove up to a friend’s place in Greenwich for a swim. Need some help?”

“Wouldn’t mind.” Kate tossed her a brush, and the two of them set to work on the horse’s already gleaming coat. “Ms. Hamilton is supposed to have a lesson at ten, and I’m running late getting Reno ready for her.”

Tommi nodded. “So here’s some news,” she said as she flicked dust off the horse’s hindquarters. “My dad just told me Callie’s coming home this weekend.”

Kate glanced at her over the horse’s back. “She tired of DC already?”

“Doubtful,” Tommi said with a snort. “Probably just wants a fresh audience for her stories about how important her job is and how much everyone loves her.”

Kate laughed. “You’re bad!”

“I know.” Tommi sighed, switching hands to reach under the horse’s belly with the brush. “I’m totally going to hell. But I can’t help it.”

Kate shot her a sympathetic look. Before she could say anything, Fitz sauntered into view around the corner, both hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. Hugo let out a bark and rushed to welcome him, his tail wagging a mile a minute.

“What’s up, ladies?” Fitz asked as he reached them.

“Hi, Fitz,” Tommi said. “You look bored. If you don’t have anything better to do, why don’t you grab Ms. Hamilton’s stuff from the tack room for us?”

“I’m not quite
that
bored.” Fitz leaned against the wall, ruffling Hugo’s ears and grinning that lazy, slightly crooked grin that had charmed half the girls in the New York metro area. If you believed even a fraction of his stories, anyway. “So Kate, I heard you totally rescued Greta Phillips from her horse’s rodeo show.”

“Something like that, I guess,” Kate said softly. “It wasn’t a big deal. You know how nervous she gets sometimes.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Tommi told her. She glanced at Fitz. “She laid down the law with that horse and turned in a great trip each time.”

“I’m not surprised.” Fitz bent down to give Chaucer a scratch on his big round head. “Our Kate’s an awesome rider. Not a bad-looking one, either.”

Kate blushed, and Tommi rolled her eyes. Shameless flirting was Fitz’s default mode. Tommi was one of the few who seemed immune to his charms, preferring a guy who required something more than two X chromosomes to turn him on. She’d shut him down on his first attempt to hit on her, though they’d ended up pretty good friends.

“Too bad you couldn’t beat me in the High Juniors this time.” Tommi shot Fitz a smirk.

“Yeah, the Chipster did his best, but I kept screwing him up by leaning at all the fences. Maybe I need some extra private lessons. What do you say, Kate? Think you could whip me into shape?”

Kate shot him a half smile, clearly not sure whether he was joking or not. Tommi wasn’t surprised. Fitz usually went for the more obvious targets, like Summer or some of the others—confident girls who gave as good as they got from him. He’d never paid any particular attention to Kate, who was usually too busy for much socializing.

“You’re a really good rider,” Kate told Fitz softly. “I’m sure you were just having a bad day. It happens, right?”

“Sure.” Fitz shrugged. “But you can’t blame a guy for trying to get some one-on-one time with the barn superstar, right?”

Now that Tommi thought about it, maybe she shouldn’t be surprised that Fitz was hitting on Kate. In fact, it was about time, given that he’d worked his way through most of the barn’s young female population already. Even if Kate wasn’t putting herself out there the way some girls did, why
wouldn’t
he notice her? She was gorgeous, talented, and sweet—probably way too sweet for the likes of Fitz. Tommi made a mental note to mention something to Kate as soon as he left. Call it a friendly warning.

At that moment the horse they were grooming pricked its ears toward the far end of the aisle. A split second later they all heard the clatter of hooves from that direction. A tall, attractive chestnut gelding walked in, dressed in shipping boots and a fleece-padded halter. Javier was at the horse’s head, cooing to it in Spanish as he coaxed it along.

“Who’s that?” Fitz asked.

Tommi shrugged. “Nice-looking horse, but I don’t recognize it,” she said. “Maybe a new sales horse?”

“Jamie didn’t mention buying anything new lately,” Kate said. “I wonder if—”

She stopped mid-sentence as someone else hurried into the barn right behind the horse. Tommi’s eyes widened as she recognized her. It was Zara Trask, the rock star’s daughter who’d bought Ellie! She was casually dressed in shorts, flip-flops, and a spaghetti-strap tank that left little to the imagination.

“Who’s
that
?” Fitz sounded much more interested in the girl than he had in the horse.

“What’s she doing here?” Tommi murmured at the same time, shooting Kate a glance. Kate shrugged.

Zara spotted them and hurried forward. “Hey, where’s Jamie?” she demanded. “He was supposed to have a stall waiting for Keeper.”

“Keeper?” Kate echoed uncertainly, glancing at the horse.

“Keeper. Keeping Time.” Zara sounded impatient. “My horse!” She waved a hand at the big chestnut, who was staring around with interest at his new surroundings, ears pricked.

Just then Elliot hurried in from the opposite direction. “Is this the new jumper horse?” he asked Zara politely. “Please come with me—I have his stall ready.”

“What’s going on?” Tommi asked.

If Zara heard her, she didn’t show it. She hurried out after the horse.

A second later, Summer rushed into view from the other direction. “Is she here yet?” she demanded breathlessly.

“Who?” Kate asked.

Summer rolled her eyes. “Duh! Zara Trask!”

“How did you know Zara Trask was here?” Tommi was feeling more confused by the second.

“Are you kidding me? Everyone knows!” Summer exclaimed. “I mean, how huge is it that she’s moving to our barn?”

“She’s what?” Tommi said. “What are you talking about? I thought she lived in LA.”

“Don’t you ever, like, watch the news or check TMZ or anything?” Summer rolled her eyes dramatically. “Her family just moved to New York City so her dad could open some new studio or something. She and her horses are going to be right here at our barn!”

FIVE

“Got everything you need, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” Zara climbed out of the Mercedes convertible, then leaned back in to grab her bag out of the backseat. “Thanks, Mickey. Pick me up at like five thirty, okay?”

Mickey nodded, flicking his cigarette out over the side of the car and then gunning the engine. He was probably Zara’s favorite member of her father’s entourage, partly because his shaggy black hair and pale, gaunt face made him look like an extra from a zombie movie, but mostly because he was totally chill and never freaked out about any of the stuff she did. And he’d drive her anywhere, anytime, no questions asked.

As the car peeled off down the winding drive, its tires kicking up gravel, Zara headed for the main barn. She’d only been there twice, but she could already tell that Pelham Lane was going to be a major change of pace from LA. It was like some fantasy from one of her mom’s movies. Gorgeous barns, acres of lush grass, miles of perfect whitewashed board fencing, the whole deal. Nothing like the cramped equestrian center back in LA, where horses were lucky to get twenty minutes of turnout a day in one of the riding rings.

Nobody was around when she entered, though she could hear voices from somewhere else in the barn. Turning the opposite direction, she found her way to her stalls. Ellie’s was empty, and Zara guessed someone was getting her ready for their first lesson together.

She checked her watch. The lesson was supposed to start in five minutes. Jamie wanted her to do a private first, which he said was so she and Ellie could get to know each other before they joined group lessons. But this wasn’t Zara’s first barn. She knew he wanted to check her out, make sure she could ride before he threw her in with all his high-powered juniors.

No biggie. Zara didn’t mind proving herself. If there was one thing she could do, it was ride. If Jamie hadn’t figured that out after seeing that test ride, she’d make sure he knew it today.

Figuring she still had plenty of time, she walked down the aisle to say hi to Keeper. The tall chestnut looked up from his hay pile at the sound of her voice, then stepped over to greet her.

“Hey, buddy,” she said, digging a carrot out of her pocket. “How’s the new crib?”

Keeper crunched the treat and then lipped Zara’s palm, looking for more. She laughed and rubbed his long nose.

“Nice horse,” a voice spoke behind her.

Zara glanced back. It was that guy—the sexy-skinny-sarcastic one she’d met earlier in the week when Keeper had arrived. Tall and lanky and oozing wicked charm. What was his name again? She knew it was something kind of different and preppy.

“Fitz Hall,” he said, as if reading her mind. “We met the other day.”

“I remember.” Zara leaned against the stall door behind her, making sure he had a good view of her assets. “I never forget a pretty face.”

Fitz grinned, leaning a little closer and resting one hand on the doorframe beside her. “Me neither. By the way, did I mention I’m the official barn welcome committee?”

“Oh yeah? So what does that mean?”

“What do you want it to mean?” he countered.

She smirked. “We’ll see.” Just then Keeper thrust his muzzle past her, still hoping for another carrot. She caught him around the nose and gave him a quick face hug.

Fitz reached out to give the chestnut a pat on the neck. “So you shipped this guy out from LA, huh?”

“Yeah. We sold my hunter and my large pony, but I told my parents I wasn’t moving without Keeper.” Zara shot Fitz a sidelong look. “And once you get to know me better, you’ll find out I almost always get my way.”

“Really?” Once again, Fitz leaned closer. “I hope I get to know you better real soon.”

Zara almost laughed. She could already tell that Fitz was used to getting what he wanted, too. And that he wasn’t afraid to go after it, corny lines and all, whatever it took. Definitely her type. But she wasn’t going to make it
too
easy for him. Where was the fun in that?

“Gotta go,” she said, casually glancing at her watch. “I’m late for my lesson.”

“Want me to show you to the indoor?” Fitz offered.

“No thanks. I remember how to get there.”

That was a lie. Zara hadn’t paid much attention when Jamie gave her the grand tour. But she hurried off around the corner, figuring she’d find it sooner or later.

The barn was laid out in a big rectangle, with two long aisles on either side and shorter ones on the ends. Stalls lined both side aisles, with space in the middle for a huge tack room, bathrooms, and other storage areas.

Okay, so where was the indoor? Zara wandered down the aisle, glancing into the stalls as she passed. She stopped short when she saw a guy cleaning one of them. His back was to her, and he was grooving to his iPod as he scooped up manure and shavings. She just stood there and enjoyed the show for a minute, smiling as he wriggled his tight little ass to the rhythm. Sweet.

“Hi there, sexy,” she said loudly. “Mind helping me out?”

The guy spun around, clearly taken by surprise. Yanking the iPod earbuds out of both ears, he looked her up and down.

Zara returned the favor. He looked just as good from the front as he had from the back. Maybe late teens, early twenties, dark hair, ripped arms, a little rough around the edges.

“I’m Zara,” she told him. “What’s your name?”

“Sean,” he said, taking in her boots and breeches. “You’re new here, right? You the one who’s supposed to be some kind of celebrity or something?”

“My parents are the celebrities, not me. My dad’s Zac Trask, and my mom’s Gina Girard.” Zara shrugged. “Rock star marries movie star. Total cliché, right?”

Sean took a step closer. “I wouldn’t know. But, you know, welcome to New York.”

Zara smiled. She could tell the guy was pretending not to be impressed by who she was. But so what? At least he was trying. And he was totally adorable in a raw, blue-collar kind of way. Nice change of pace from all those overprocessed California boys. Maybe switching coasts—and barns—wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Not that she’d had a choice. She hadn’t even found out about the move until everything was settled. Both of her parents had thought the other had told her, and she’d ended up finding out from the housekeeper who was supposed to start packing up her room. Classic.

But she shoved those thoughts aside, focusing on Sean and the way his eyes were eating her up. On the rush she always got from making a new guy want her. “So you work here or what?” she asked. “What’s your story?”

“Nothing much.” Sean leaned on his manure fork. “Graduated from high school earlier this month. Work here part-time for some extra cash. My real thing’s BMX.”

“Cool. Maybe you can take me for a ride sometime.”

Sean smirked. “Anytime. I’m sure I could teach you a few things.”

Oops. That reminded Zara that she was getting really late for her lesson now. “Hey, where’s the indoor?” she asked, glancing at her watch again. “I’m supposed to be in a private lesson like ten minutes ago.”

“Out the far end and across the courtyard,” Sean said. “But hey, I’ll give you a private lesson right here and now if you want.”

“What would Mr. Vos say if he heard you proposition a paying client that way, young man?” At Sean’s sudden shocked expression, she burst out laughing. “Just shitting you,” she said. “But just so you know, I doubt there’s anything
you
could teach
me
.”

“Is that so?” Sean countered. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

“If you’re lucky.” She ducked out of the stall and hurried down the aisle before he could answer.

Moments later she was slipping in through the big sliding door, which was open to catch the summer breeze. Ellie was already in the ring, fully tacked up. A groom was holding on to her reins as she danced around impatiently. Jamie was perched on the fence nearby. He looked a little impatient, too.

“Sorry I’m late,” Zara sang out.

Jamie glanced back at her and hopped down from the fence. “Okay, at least you’re here now,” he said calmly. “But listen, before we get started I should probably fill you in on how this place works. We run a full-service program here, and everything goes pretty smoothly thanks to great help.” He nodded toward the groom, who was jiggling the reins lightly to distract Ellie from pawing at the footing.

“Yeah, I know the drill. It’s like my old barn in LA.”

“Right. But the thing is, the program only works if everyone here is responsible for themselves. Including getting themselves where they need to be on time. I realize some barns are more casual about start times, but here when I say a lesson begins at a certain time, that means I expect everyone in the ring, ready to get started, and …”

Zara tuned out after that, her mind wandering back to Fitz and Sean while she waited for the lecture to end. She didn’t take Jamie’s huffing and puffing too seriously. So she’d been a few minutes late; so what? Most people cut her plenty of slack.

“Again!” Jamie called out from the center of the ring. “Don’t let her put in any trot steps this time. She knows how to canter from a walk.”

“She’s not acting like it,” Zara complained. When Jamie didn’t respond, she gave Ellie a squeeze to send her back to the rail. “You’re making me look bad, mare,” she muttered under her breath.

Ellie tossed her head, jigging a few steps. She’d been giving Zara trouble throughout the lesson, spurting through her aids, spooking at nothing, and generally being a pistol. Spunky was one thing, but this was getting annoying.

“Easy,” Jamie called. “Let her settle for a sec, then pick up your left lead when you feel ready.”

Zara sank deeper into the saddle, doing her best to “sit heavy,” as her old trainer had put it, hoping that would settle the mare. It seemed to work for a moment. Ellie took several flat-footed walk steps. But as they neared the spot where Zara had decided to pick up the canter, Ellie tensed and broke into a trot.

“Aargh!” Zara exclaimed, half-halting sharply to bring her back.

“What was the problem there?” Jamie asked calmly.

Zara shot him an irritated look. “You’re the trainer. Aren’t
you
supposed to tell
me
?”

“It looked to me like you tensed up in anticipation of the depart, and she felt that and took advantage.”

“I can’t help it. She keeps looking at stuff!” Glancing around, Zara saw a big, lazy-looking bulldog lying just outside the arena fence. “I think she’s scared of the dog.”

“She’s not scared of the dog,” Jamie replied. “She’s just not listening to you. You have to convince her to listen. Take her around and try again.”

Grumbling under her breath, Zara did as he said. So far, this lesson wasn’t much fun. She’d expected Jamie to warm her up on the flat for a few minutes, then set up some jumps to see what she could do. She’d been looking forward to trying her new horse over something a little higher. But they hadn’t gone near the jumps yet, focusing instead on boring flatwork.

The next time around, they got the canter depart. “Nice!” Jamie called. “See, I knew you could do it.”

Zara rolled her eyes, not sure whether to be pleased or insulted that he was praising her like an up-downer nailing her very first canter. Before they’d gone more than a few strides Ellie spooked, surging in off the rail, popping her shoulder, and totally cutting the corner. This time Zara tried to blame it on the birds flying around up in the beams, but Jamie didn’t seem impressed by that explanation, either.

“Let’s change directions and try it on the other lead,” he said.

“But she keeps spooking and being goofy!” Zara exclaimed. “I thought this horse was supposed to be trained. She certainly cost as much as a trained horse.”

“She’s well trained for her age, but she’s not a machine, Zara.” Jamie’s voice didn’t get any louder, though it took on a steelier edge. “You need to ride her so she knows what you expect of her.”

Zara dropped her reins on the mare’s neck, pushing her full lips out in a pout, and kicking her feet out of the stirrups. “Maybe you need to get on and school her for me.”

“You’ll be fine.” Jamie pointed to the rail behind her. “Reverse, please. Make sure she’s pushing from behind at the walk, then ask for the right lead when you pass me.”