Break Me (Knighton Equestrian #1)

Prologue

Hallie

Ocala, Florida

The humidity felt different here in Florida. It stuck to my skin like glue, wrapping its wet hands around each strand of my long dark hair, making it curl into ringlets around my face.

My heart fluttered as fast as a hummingbird’s wings as I gaped at the humongous equestrian center spread out before me.

I knew horses. I’d been raised in the saddle with reins in my hand.

I knew how to ride and rope cattle from a mustang’s back.

I knew how to navigate rough pastures and herd cows into pens with perfect precision.

But as a large bay mare passed by me, coat glistening, mane brushed out, hooves oiled and free of dust and mud from a hard day’s ride, I may well have been as unfamiliar with these animals as I was with the country clubs and fancy houses I’d seen on the ride from the airport.

The main door in a huge white barn to my left opened, and a woman around my daddy’s age came walking out.

She looked as pristine as the bay mare that had just passed us by.

Her bright-red hair was swept off her freckled face and tied in a bun at the back of her scalp.

She wore cream breeches, a polo shirt to match, and polished tall black riding boots.

As if feeling my stare, she lifted her head and saw me standing beside the social worker who had brought me here.

Her face was as beautiful and put together as her clothes.

And she looked just like Daddy.

A lump sprouted in my throat as she approached, and her hazel eyes glistened with tears as she tracked her wide gaze over me.

I glanced down at my well-worn cowboy boots, Wranglers, and favorite pink, long-sleeve button-up.

My trusty Stetson was on my head—I had my daddy’s packed in a protective box in my luggage.

“Hallie,” the lady rasped, throat hoarse, and a tear fell from her eye.

Her hands were shaking as she quickly wiped it away.

She moved until she was just before me. She smelled like rose petals.

Her cheeks matched their red shade too. She crouched until she was eye level with me.

Without thinking, I reached out and touched her face. I felt my bottom lip tremble.

“You look just like my daddy,” I said. My chest felt tight. I was trying real hard not to cry. I’d cried a ton over the past few days. Ever since my daddy . . .

I sniffed and wiped away a few extra tears.

“You look like him too,” the lady said softly.

Aunt Jeanie, I reminded myself. Her name is Aunt Jeanie.

She was my daddy’s younger sister. Daddy never spoke of her much.

The only thing he’d ever said was that he’d been real sorry he’d stopped speaking to her when she decided to leave the family ranch before I was born.

Said he hadn’t understood her choice to move away at the time.

And that breaking all ties with her was the biggest mistake of his life.

One he never got to make right.

“You can cry, darlin’,” she said, her accent sounding a little like mine.

“Cowgirls don’t cry,” I said, echoing what Daddy and the cowboys back at the ranch used to tell me if I was hurt or upset.

A flash of what looked like sadness took over her face, like she’d heard that saying before too. “Do you know who I am?” she asked.

“Aunt Jeanie,” I said, and pointed at Sally, the social worker.

She’d explained where I was going. Aunt Jeanie stood up and shook Sally’s hand.

They began to talk about me, but movement from my right caught my eye, pulling me away from the conversation.

In an outdoor arena across the yard, someone was cantering on a horse—a large gray horse that must have been at least seventeen hands high and then some.

The horse was beautiful, all platinum glossy mane, its body thick with muscle.

Before I knew it, my feet began moving, and the next thing I knew, I was watching the rider and horse through the slats in the pretty white fence.

Watching as the man steered the horse over huge, brightly colored jumps.

My pulse raced and my breath held as, with each one, they seemed to take flight.

I wondered what that would feel like, to ride on horseback over those huge fences.

I watched, transfixed, as the man jumped all the fences, not touching a single pole.

He patted the horse’s neck as he brought the horse to a slow and steady trot.

The man unclipped the chin strap of his fancy helmet and placed it in his lap, tipping his head back toward the sun.

His dark hair was sweaty, one thick strand falling over his forehead. It still looked perfect.

Before I knew it, he’d moved closer to where I stood.

“He needs more push on the triple bar. His left hind was dragging.” The man snapped his head in my direction. A crooked smile pulled on his lips. He was dressed in all black, the total opposite of his gray horse—they looked like night and day.

Aunt Jeanie came up beside me, resting her arms on the top of the fence. She was the one who had spoken to him. Loosening his reins, the man headed over to us. I looked up at him from under the brim of my hat. When he looked down at me, his smile was blinding.

“Who’s this little cowgirl?” His voice was deep, and his accent was strange. He didn’t sound American.

Aunt Jeanie turned to me with a big smile on her face.

She placed her hand on my shoulder. It was soft and warm.

It felt nice. I hadn’t been around too many women in my life.

“This is my niece, Hallie.” It sounded strange being called that.

Her niece. But . . . I liked it. Aunt Jeanie gestured to the man again.

“Hallie, this is Jasper Knighton. He’s an Olympian show jumper and currently ranked number one in the world in the Under-25s.

And he’s still only nineteen!” My eyes widened.

That sounded real impressive, and he was younger than I’d thought.

Aunt Jeanie turned to Jasper again. “Hallie will be living with me and Luke from now on.”

Jasper nodded. “Nice to meet you, Hallie,” he said, and I felt my cheeks heat. “Do you ride?” He placed his helmet back on, fastening the strap under his chin.

“Yes, sir,” I said, forcing myself to find my voice.

“English?” he asked again, and I looked at the saddle he sat on, all shiny polished black leather with fancy stirrups.

At the supple black leather bridle over his horse’s head.

They looked nothing like the western saddles and bridles I was used to.

I shook my head. “Have you jumped before?” He pointed to the fences he had just cleared moments ago.

I shook my head again, too shy to speak.

“Jeanie,” he said, addressing my aunt. “Make things right with your niece and teach the girl to jump.” He looked at me again, throwing me a wider smile.

“There’s nothing like it.” He turned his gray horse back toward the colored fences, kicking him on, calling out, “Nice to meet you, Cowgirl Hallie!”

Jasper began trotting around the arena again, then built to a steady canter and sailed over each jump with ease.

When he had cleared the round, another man then entered the arena on a bay horse, and he and Jasper Knighton talked and chatted, taking turns at practicing the jumps.

Both were clearly very good, judging by the lack of poles dropped and the number of staff who stopped their stable duties to come and watch them.

I could have watched them all day.

“Come with me, Hallie,” Aunt Jeanie said suddenly, taking me away from my newfound fascination. I looked back over my shoulder, just to see Jasper jumping another clear round. Aunt Jeanie nudged my arm, pulling my attention back to her. “Jasper Knighton comes all the way from England.”

“Does he live here too?” I asked.

Aunt Jeanie smiled. “No, darlin’. This is a training facility for professional show jumpers.

” I was so confused. I had no idea what these things were.

Her arm wrapped around my shoulders. “All will become clearer in time,” she said.

“Jasper’s home is back in England. He’s just here using our facilities for practice while he competes in the US.

” I nodded, still not sure what kind of sport this was.

I only knew about riding horses for ranching purposes, not whatever all this fancy stuff was.

“This okay?” Aunt Jeanie suddenly asked, referring to her arm around me. I nodded. Daddy always walked with me like this too. It felt . . . It was nice but made me miss him too.

Aunt Jeanie stopped at the entrance to another huge white barn.

She bent down, meeting my eyes. “I know things are real hard for you right now, darlin’.

The world feels strange and unfair, and to make it so much worse, you’ve had to move away from everything you know.

Your friends, your ranch.” Her voice cut out, and she looked out over the pastures around us, filled with horses.

When she looked back to me, she said, “I may have never met you before today, but you’re my family, Hallie.

I’ve always loved you. You’re my big brother’s little girl. I was made to adore you.”

Aunt Jeanie’s bottom lip wobbled. “To know that your daddy, after everything we’d been through, wanted me to be the one to take care of you if anything happened to him .

. .” Aunt Jeanie cleared her throat. “That . . . well, that just means the world to me, darlin’.

” She squeezed my arm affectionately. “And I’m gonna make sure I love you with all my heart and then some. ”

She took a deep breath, then gestured around us.

“This place may be different from the ranch back in Texas, but it’s full to the brim with the one thing I know we both love.

” She stood and opened the barn. A long, wide center aisle was lined with stalls.

Inside some of them were horses, but most were empty.

“The majority of the horses housed here are either being trained in the arenas or turned out in the fields right now.” Then we stopped at a blue roan gelding with a jet-black mane and tail. His coloring reminded me of dusk.

Beautiful.

Aunt Jeanie stroked her hand down his handsome face. “This here is Rocky. He’s four and just recently broken in. We are gonna train him up to be a show jumper. His sire was a world champion, so we’re expecting great things from him too.”

He was stunning. Moving closer, I held out my hand, and he immediately nuzzled my palm.

I was raised on a ranch, raised around horses, but my love for them, my draw, was always more.

It was like my soul only calmed if they were near.

Riding horses felt more natural to me than walking on my own two feet.

It wasn’t a choice to be around them; it was a necessity.

“Rocky—show name ‘Rocky Mountain View’—only came to us last week from Colorado. He’s brand new to Silvercrest.” Aunt Jeanie must have seen my confusion.

“That’s what this equestrian center is called.

” I took off my hat and pressed my forehead to Rocky’s nose.

I laughed as his warm breath puffed against my face as though he was saying hello.

Aunt Jeanie laughed too, then said, “I was thinking the pair of y’all could maybe find your feet here together.” I turned to my aunt in surprise, pulse racing. “He’s yours if you want him, Hallie-girl.” My body filled with warmth. Hallie-girl. My daddy always called me that.

“I’d like that,” I said, feeling the first bit of happiness in days.

But that faded when I scanned what Aunt Jeanie was wearing.

Then I thought of Jasper Knighton and the pristine black leather saddle he sat upon.

“I . . . I don’t know how to ride like y’all,” I said, pointing to my scuffed and faded cowboy boots that had a small hole in the toe.

“Then we’ll just have to remedy that, won’t we?

” Aunt Jeanie said. And I nodded, feeling a frisson of excitement shimmy through me.

Lifting on my tiptoes, I wrapped my arms around Rocky’s neck, and like he knew I needed it, he tucked his head into the crook of my neck and shoulder, calming my nerves and soothing my sorrow.

As I held him, I pictured Jasper Knighton and his friend soaring over the fences in the arena. I wanted to know what that felt like, to ride like that. I wanted to learn to jump.

I wanted to learn to fly.