Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
ANDRéS
I swing myself up onto Chispa’s back and settle into her saddle, a seat that feels as much like home to me as anywhere.
We aren’t playing in the tournament today, but the horses still need exercise, so we’re heading out along one of the trails for a change of scenery.
Some of the other teams will play today, and I’ll watch them later.
We’ll compete in the heats again tomorrow, and if we get through we’ll be in the final on Saturday.
On Sunday we fly out to the UK. Aspen is a halfway point on my way from Argentina to England.
Gabriel and Linden, with their horses, fall into step beside me as we head away from the resort.
Both of them are blond with classic good looks and aristocratic pedigrees as long as their horses’.
I think Gabriel said they’re distantly related going back several hundred years.
All I know is that they’re friends, they went to the same school together, and they play polo.
Gabriel starts to talk about the team we’ll be playing against tomorrow and I listen intently. Polo is my life and I’m good at it, partly because I study the other teams and I’m able to exploit their weaknesses.
“They have Xavier, who’ll be keen for a win as he’s not had a great season this year,” Gabriel says, and I grunt my agreement. Xavier, also from Argentina, is something of a rival to me. He’s a few years older and the only other high goal player here.
“Raoul is playing very cautiously at the moment, which we should be able to take advantage of if we can start assertively,” Gabriel explains. “And Paul, well, we know he just pays the bills so he can play.”
We talk a bit more about tactics for tomorrow, and then Gabriel and Linden fall into talking about people they know, and I stop listening, content to let my mind wander.
Next year will be my first pro year, when I play for Gabriel in the new team he’s setting up.
There are better opportunities in the States, and I was offered a few when I stated that I was turning pro back in the summer, but Gabriel’s offer intrigued me.
The money is good, I can’t argue there, but it was more than that.
I like Gabriel a lot, and the idea of being involved at the start of his venture with the new team and the equestrian centre is appealing.
Along with being able to teach and coach players, which I also enjoy.
It’s also a long way from Argentina, which suits me just fine for now.
I used to have a perfect life. Being able to play polo, having access to the best horses, I travelled and played where I wanted, and was seen at all the best events.
I slept with whom I chose, much to my brother’s disgust, and I never saw myself settling down.
The only sign of trying to create anything permanent was five years ago, when I set up a breeding program for polo ponies on one of my father’s farms. Yes, everything was going perfectly, until six months ago when my father suddenly passed away.
Gabriel shouts that they’re turning back, and I do the same with Chispa. She shakes her head in annoyance, as she loves to go out exploring as much as I do, so I stroke her neck.
“We’ll find you some good trails in England,” I promise, and she settles down again.
Chispa was the first horse I had as a foal, claiming her as my own when my father’s favourite polo pony had her first. In the eight years of her life, we’ve rarely been apart, and I know her as well as I know myself.
I trust her implicitly, but I also know she won’t take any crap from me.
If my mind is not on the job, she’ll let me know, and she’s ditched me more than once on the polo field.
But that’s only made me a better player, and when she’s in the right mood we’re unstoppable.
When we get back to the barn, Jorge has already exercised Marvel and Furia.
I leave him to do the same with Saban and I take Terco out to the practice arena as I feel he needs a little more work on his turns.
He’s my newest horse, and he came to me with a reputation as being troublesome.
I didn’t bother pointing out that if you name a horse stubborn, then what do expect, but he was cheap and I like the ones no one can do anything with.
What I found was that he just took longer to learn than others, and if you switched to learning something new before he felt he’d learned the previous task, he got frustrated and then the problems would start.
I found if you backtracked and went through a move he was familiar with, then he’d calm down.
So he’s not as experienced as the others, and I’ve not played him much, but he’s part of the five I’m taking to the UK, as I think with a little more work, he’ll be excellent as a teaching horse.
When I get back I have time for a shower, and then I’m to meet Gabriel and Linden, along with Austin, Linden’s father, for lunch before we make our way over to the polo arena for today’s matches.
As we leave the hotel I catch a glimpse of Simon talking to another guy.
He stalks off and my curiosity is piqued.
Not that it should be, but Simon hasn’t been far from my thoughts all morning.
I haven’t slept so well in months as I did last night.
And I can’t get the feel of his soft skin and his perfect arse out of my head.
Not to mention his cute face and adorable curiosity.
It’s enough to distract me all afternoon, though I manage to pay enough attention to the matches to glean some details of the teams we might end up playing later in the week.
The polo scene has an incredible social element between all the players, patrons, and followers.
Tonight there’s an event hosted by one of the sponsors.
A buffet dinner followed by a disco. I feel restless when I enter, and after downing three glasses of champagne—which only marginally helps—I get cornered by Paul, the patron of the team we’re drawn against tomorrow.
“The trouble is, Xavier never listens to me,” he says petulantly.
“He only thinks of himself and he never passes the ball my way.” I could give him plenty of reasons why that might be, but I don’t think he’ll want to hear them.
“You’d be better. I would’ve offered you the job, you know, but Xavier is contracted for another year. ”
“I have a job,” I comment neutrally, not adding that his indiscretion about Xavier is only one reason why I’d never work for him.
But he doesn’t stop whining and I can’t get away.
A server passes with a tray of canapes, and I absently take one.
Anything to distract me from listening to Paul.
Luckily Raoul comes over to ask Paul a question and I quickly make my escape.
I look down at the tiny blini, with a delicately piped portion of pate on top, and wonder if Simon made it.
This is getting ridiculous. Am I going to be unable to eat anything this week without thinking of him?
I need a distraction, a good one. Another hookup should do the trick.
I work my way through the throng of guests.
I usually don’t have any problem identifying a likely target and homing in on them, charming them into bed with me, but not tonight.
No one catches my fancy. Either their eyes are not blue enough, or they’re too obnoxious.
I’m not usually picky enough for those things to bother me, but I am tonight, and that makes me irritable.
By the end of the evening, as the event is winding down and staff are starting to clear up, I’m feeling more uptight than I was before.
“Good night. Get a good night’s sleep,” Gabriel calls to me as he supports a slightly drunk Linden.
“I will,” I promise, and they disappear towards the rooms. Pent-up frustration makes me feel less like sleeping now than ever, and I know I’m going to toss and turn for hours.
Annoyed and grumpy, I eventually give in and take the same route I did last night.
I’m pleased to see Simon is alone in the kitchen as I walk through the door.
He looks up as I approach, and a small smile quirks on his lips, the one I’ve been searching for elsewhere all evening in vain.
He looks pleased to see me, and some of my tension eases slightly.
“Hi,” he says as I come to a stop before him. “You know you’re not supposed to be here.”
“I know, but I was wondering if the offer for carrots was still open.”