Chapter Six #2
Marco blinked a few times at my filterless best friend but quickly ushered us inside, out of the cold drizzle and into the warm(ish) warehouse. “Right this way,” he said, and I smiled as Sage successfully bulldozed another employee.
I turned behind me and saw two cars parked in the reserved spots next to the door.
Both had private license plates. One read “APK” and the other “JHK.” The cars were top-of-the-line Range Rovers, and my stomach rolled when I realized who one of them most likely belonged to.
JHK—Jasper Harold Knighton. I imagined the other belonged to Atticus, but I’d keep that piece of information from Sage until she’d had her coffee.
If she knew Atticus was going to be here after two weeks of successfully avoiding him, she would go nuclear.
Straightening my shoulders, I quickly followed Marco and Sage into a large kitchen/break room, and my friend beelined for the tray of coffee pods.
She opened the refrigerator, then turned to me, fury on her face.
“How does this country still not have proper coffee creamer? Flavored or otherwise?” She pouted like a three-year-old.
“I miss my fave cinnamon creamer from Whole Foods.”
“We have really good tea bags here in the warehouse,” Marco offered as a solution. “I ordered them myself from Harrods. Made from the finest tea leaves money can buy.”
Sage smiled sweetly at Marco, but I saw the simmering rage bubbling underneath her surface.
“Tea doesn’t quite give me the same hit as sugar-laden coffee does, sweetheart.
But thanks for the offer.” Marco blinked, stunned at Sage’s candor as she popped a pod into the machine and practically inhaled it when it was finished.
Sage thrust a cup into my hand, then made a second coffee for herself. I blew a kiss at her in thanks, and Marco gestured for us to sit down at the break-room table.
Marco laid some papers on the tabletop and said, “The shoot will be over the next couple of days. Today will be the still shots here in the warehouse, showcasing the details of the new season’s apparel.
Tomorrow will be at Golden Oaks, where we’ll do action shots of you both on your horses for this year’s tour.
” He looked at each of us. “Is that okay?”
“Yep,” I said, and Sage nodded with a mouthful of coffee.
“When you’re ready, we’ll get you into hair and makeup,” Marco said, and we followed him into a room next door.
Sage and I sat down on two makeup chairs to meet Sarah, the makeup artist, and Jamie, our hairstylist. They got to work on us immediately.
I always found this part of my career a novelty.
We didn’t do shoots often, but we’d done them enough to be used to this kind of pampering.
It was a welcome change from boots covered in shit and mud.
It seemed so far away from my old life it was laughable.
Classic rock played behind us, and I closed my eyes.
My pulse immediately raced, and all the work I’d done to forget Jasper over the past several days unraveled when all I could think of was that Range Rover outside.
Was he here? I mean, probably? This was his company.
But would I see him? Would he even be involved in the shoot?
I had no idea how hands-on a brand owner he was.
I felt anxious thinking he would show up.
My mind took me back to the fountain, and I squeezed my thighs together.
I wasn’t proud of myself, but by the time I’d gotten back to my cottage that night, I was in bed in no time with my hand slipped down the front of my pants.
I came hard, in mere seconds, and had to bite down on my bottom lip to stop my cry from sailing through the walls to where Sage slept.
Just the idea of him being here today brought goose bumps to my skin. When I didn’t see him, I could keep him on the periphery of my mind. If I saw him . . . I had no idea if all my hard work would be blown to smithereens.
“No!” I suddenly heard Sage wail, yanking me from my thoughts. “No, no, NO!”
I opened my eyes. My best friend was gripping the arms of her makeup chair and glaring her most vicious glare at the doorway. I looked to my left, only to see Atticus Knighton leaning against the doorframe, shirtless, with a wide smile on his face.
“Nice to see you again, Miller,” he said, his voice like silk and his accent thick with humor. If Sage could breathe fire, in this moment, I was sure she would.
“What are you doing here, shithead?” she said through gritted teeth as Sarah kept applying contour to her cheeks. I had to say, even through her rage, Sage’s makeup looked incredible.
Atticus stretched his muscled arms over his head and rested them on the top of the doorframe. His abs were cut, and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body. A fact I’m sure my best friend had noticed but would never admit, even under pain of death.
“Haven’t you been told?” Atticus said, “I’m modeling for Knighton Equestrian this year too.
” Atticus pointed at his chest. “Me, you, and Hallie. Our hot little team.” As he said my name, Atticus pushed off the doorframe and bent down and kissed my cheek.
“Nice to see you again, Hals,” he said, and I smiled.
I’d always really liked Atticus. He was cheeky and playful and not an arrogant douchebag like some of the male riders were on the circuit.
“Don’t,” Sage warned. “Do not call her that.” And in that moment, I knew my friend was completely psycho when it came to this man. One tumultuous summer in his bed as a teen had become Atticus’s villain origin story in Sage’s mind.
“He can call me Hals, Sage. Everyone does,” I said, calmly.
“He doesn’t,” Sage snapped, never taking her furious gaze off Atticus, who now leaned against the makeup table. Jamie finished curling my hair and winked at me. He was clearly enjoying the show. Sarah finished applying Sage’s lipstick, then she and Jamie swapped places.
The air around us was thick with tension. “Surely you knew I was part of Team Knighton, Miller. We’ll be traveling together. All season. Living beside each other in the team’s hotels. Dining together, doing press together.” His eyebrows lifted up and down. “Always together. Just like old times.”
“No, definitely NOT like old times!” she sputtered incredulously. “I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last hard dick on earth and I was drunk on aphrodisiacs. And of course I knew you had this gig,” Sage said. “Nepotism is still alive and well.”
“Sage,” I warned.
She cut me a withering look. The fact was, of course nepotism was involved in this case.
The Knightons were horse royalty. But Atticus was also an excellent jumper.
And I was sure that was what annoyed Sage more than anything.
He had the talent to back up the fact that he rode for the best team in the world—a team he owned part of.
Like Sage, Atticus was almost reckless with the risks he took on the course.
Never with his horse—anyone could tell he adored Barnaby.
But when it came to his self-preservation, he was as crazy as my best friend.
Completely unaffected by Sage’s hostility, Atticus turned and looked in the mirror, tousling his hair with his fingers. “Sarah, Jamie,” he said to our makeup artist and hairdresser, “I don’t think I’ll need much prep today.” He met Sage’s gaze in the mirror. “It’s hard to improve perfection.”
“Fucking narcissist,” Sage muttered under her breath, then stayed in a silent staring match with Atticus until he said, “How are you finding Huxley, Hals?”
I exhaled a relieved breath, happy just to be given a diversion from their bickering. “He’s amazing,” I said. “I can’t wait for Doha.” Our first Grand Prix of the tour began in a couple of weeks in Qatar. I was more than ready to go. I liked being on the move.
“Good,” Atticus said, then asked, “You like Golden Oaks?” I cast a glance to Sage. She was quietly fuming in the makeup chair, but her eyes were closed while Jamie did her beachy waves. I just prayed she was finding some kind of Zen.
“Adore it,” I said, and in my mind, instantly replayed holding Jasper in the barn, getting reprimanded by the fountain, and the fact that, only a short time later, I orgasmed to the thought of Jasper’s pissed-off, stupidly handsome face.
“You’re done, sweetie,” Sarah said, and I looked in the mirror.
My smile was wide, for both the glam and the turn in conversation. “I love it, thank you.”
Marco popped his head in the room. “Hallie? Oh, perfect, you’re done. Let’s get you in wardrobe.” I’d never left a room so fast, laughing to myself when Atticus jumped into the chair I’d just vacated and smiled provocatively at Sage right next to him.
Dressed in a white robe, I followed Marco into the room next door.
My mouth dropped, just seeing all the clothes hanging on the rack with my name on it.
There were base layers of all different colors, riding tights, breeches, show jackets and shirts, riding boots, and all the casual attire one could think of.
I ran my hand over the nearest set, trailing my fingertips over the embroidered Knighton Equestrian logo—a horse with a crown on his head.
And not just any horse, but the profile of Lord Henry.
It made me fill with warmth. Jasper had loved his stallion enough to make him his brand’s entire aesthetic.
“I’ll be back in just a second,” Marco said. He was a whirlwind, ducking in and out of all the rooms with his clipboard in his hand. I had just lifted a black, flared-waist base layer off the rack, admiring the ultrafeminine design, when someone entered the room.