12. Parker
Parker
It shouldn’t surprise me that Leah has been hanging around with those snakes. Lying bastards. I’m not sure why they’re here, but I don’t like it. Either Henrietta or Bridget played a part in this, probably both. I can smell the bullshit from here. Every member of the Hart family is a fucking joke.
Well, not every member.
I’m honestly a bit shocked, pleasantly so, that she has been stopping by most mornings. Grady is still keeping a good distance, which I understand. It works best for him. She’s alluring, and he’s inexperienced.
Anyone with eyes can see the way he softens when she’s around. Even when she was in Bridget’s face, threatening to knock her teeth out, he had stars in his eyes. Such a sweet giant of a man, all it takes is standing up for him, and he’s a goner.
It was hot as hell, so I can’t blame him. It took every ounce of willpower I possess to contain my glee.
Knowing she’s been hanging out with them must hurt for Grady.
If only he’d let me be more of a comfort.
Unfortunately, we have jobs to do, and Bridget is first on my lesson schedule for the day. I’ve been unintentionally half-assing her classes for the past couple of weeks. She’s atrocious and is barely putting in any effort. So why should I?
You can give someone all of the tools necessary for success, spend painstaking hours teaching them how to use them, and still see them fail because of their own lack of passion.
Sure, natural inclination is a factor, but even the sloppiest riders can be decent if they try.
Bridget is lazy, entitled, and thinks her name is all she needs to succeed.
Too bad for her that Henrietta wants a worthy heir to the empire.
Too bad for Henrietta that Bridget has no idea how this sport actually works.
There’s no way her mother is going to pay off every judge. One or two will help raise her scores, but not enough.
Tucking my Hartbrook polo into my waistband, I pomade my hair, making sure my appearance is pristine. Anything less means Bridget will complain, and I don’t want to deal with that today. I can only hope she focuses on her training. Competitions will be upon us before we know it.
When I reach the stable, Grady is already getting Champ ready. He’s been tacking him up before Bridget shows her face to avoid as much interaction with her as possible.
“Good morning, again.” I smile at him. The warm smirk he gives me in return makes me melt a little. “She’ll be here any minute, best finish up and hide out.” I take Champ’s reins from him.
Like a kid hiding from the boogeyman, he swiftly retreats into the supply closet.
Minutes later, Bridget struts into the stable sporting an over-the-top smile—the same one that haunts my nightmares. “You look so good in that shirt, I love the way it makes your eyes pop,” she purrs, running a finger down my chest.
Choking back the bile in my throat, I force a smile. “Let’s not waste time. I have back-to-back lessons today.”
She pouts, folding her arms. “Aren’t you going to help me?”
“You know that’s not part of the job. Let me get the steps for you,” I grit out, as if we don’t do this every day. The pathetic questions may differ, but it’s all the same. Feigning helplessness in hopes I’ll swoop in and rescue her like a false knight.
She scoffs. “It’s not cute when men play hard to get. Especially when they’re beneath me.”
“Good thing I’m not playing then,” I grumble.
“I bet you’d help that harlot onto her hell-beast if she asked.” She stomps her foot like a child.
“That’s the difference, she doesn’t ask. She’s capable of doing things on her own.” Shit, I’m getting too worked up. Ducking into the supply closet, I give Grady a sorrowful smile, grabbing the three-tier mounting block on my way out.
“Well, excuse me for wanting my man to be there for me!”
I set the steps on the ground. “Here, these are more helpful than I would be anyway.”
Rolling her eyes, she casts me off with a cold shoulder. Good. It doesn’t hurt my feelings in the slightest. Maybe she’ll actually focus today instead of flashing “fuck me” eyes through our whole session.
I make my way to the training arena, fighting a groan when she awkwardly rides out.
My future here depends on her ability to—at the bare minimum—stay in the saddle.
Champ can compensate quite a bit for her lack of control, but wobbling around is not a good look.
Fortunately, there are several competitions between now and the Olympics, so she’ll have the opportunity to improve by then. I can only hope it will be enough.
As she brings Champ to a halt, I almost applaud her for not rocking in her seat.
There may be a chance yet.
Time to get this mess over with so I can watch my star shine.
I’m exhausted, leaning against the fence, fighting a world-class migraine. I perk up at the sound of Tally whinnying. My attention snaps to the stables. The sight of Leah—confident and competent—rejuvenates me. Which is odd since I’m nearly breathless as she trots my way.
“Are you okay?” Leah asks, bringing Tally to a flawless halt.
I push off the fence. “I am now, thank you for not sucking.”
“She can’t still be that bad with all the extra sessions… can she?”
“You wouldn’t think so, but Jesus, I’ve trained children with more coordination. I’m fairly sure she’s gotten worse somehow.”
She snorts—the cutest fucking sound ever. What makes it even better is the fact that she owns it. No bashful blushing or apologizing for being her genuine self.
Her adorable, beautiful, playful self.
Training, Parker, she’s here for training. Do your damn job and stop fantasizing.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, immediately coughing as her eyes widen. “I-I mean your form, you’re doing beautifully.”
Judging by the glimmer in her eye, she’s not fooled by my bullshit.
“What are we covering today?” she asks, giving me a free pass to get back on track.
“Well, you’re in good shape. I mainly want to take you through the routine we’ve been prepping.” I pull out my trusty Bluetooth speaker, preparing her pop medley. “Go ahead and get in position.”
She lines Tally up with their starting marker, nodding when ready.
Her shoulders are relaxed, form perfect, showing no signs of apprehension.
As the first note sounds, she flawlessly moves Tally into their starting trot.
They bounce along to the beat of “Crazy” by Britney Spears, seamlessly transitioning into a beautiful diagonal.
On the far side of the stable, Warren and Quincy are watching. My skin always itches at the sight. Something is off with them, for sure. Shade obscures their faces, making it impossible to read their intentions. They’re always around but never close. It’s unnerving.
Am I annoyed that Leah seems to have patched things up with them? Oh, yeah. But, she’s a grown woman, and assures me that they’re just being friendly.
I don’t know many “friends” who make it their daily task to watch your every move, but who am I?
I bring my attention back to the spectacle before me, admiring their smooth shift into a collected canter. They glide effortlessly into a working gait in preparation for a flying change. Tally swaps leads on beat and snorts, letting a small bit of her personality shine through.
Grady watches from the stable entrance, face filled with admiration. I smile at him, and he returns it without hesitation. Hopefully, I’ll see more of them in the near future. Witnessing the grace of Leah and Tally always does the trick, even if he won’t let her see that.
They work through the rest of the routine, and my heart skips a beat. The reality of our agreement settles in. She can do this, and when she does, we’ll likely never see her again.
The final note of her medley sounds as they finish their last maneuver. I applaud them with less enthusiasm than they deserve, which earns me an adorable head tilt.
Damn it if my face doesn’t pull into a sappy smile.
I pat Tally on the neck. “That was nearly flawless.”
“Yeah, our piaffe felt a little too tense.”
“You’ll get it, I know you will. Then we have a month to perfect the next routine. Gonna have to tighten your canter pirouettes. I let you get by with an easy routine for this competition since it’s the first one.”
“Yes, sir,” she jokes, and my heart stutters so hard I almost collapse.
Grady’s boots kick up dust as he crosses the paddock.
Leah’s face fills with curiosity. “Were you watching, too?”
He nods, giving her two thumbs up.
“Do you even know anything about dressage? Or are you just trying to be a good friend?” she asks with a small titter.
If she had any idea…
He rears his head back with a faint scowl.
“What? Just because you’re a stable hand doesn’t mean you know how scoring works.”
I shoot him a questioning look. His eyes tell me not to say too much, so I opt for just enough instead. “Grady grew up around the sport. You’d be surprised how much he knows.”
“Interesting, wouldn’t you want to be a trainer instead of a stable hand?” There’s no way she misses the glaringly obvious anguish on his face.
“It’s a touchy subject,” I offer as he grits his teeth.
“Because he can’t talk?” she presses.
Going straight for the kill, I suppose.
Red-faced, brows pulled close together, it’s hard to tell if he’s angry or embarrassed. He hasn’t stormed off, so I’m going with the latter. Not that I’ve known him to storm off.
I step next to him and place my hand on his shoulder. “Talking is a pretty big part of the job,” I explain as if it isn’t obvious. “If our arrangement works out, he’ll be a routine planner, and I’ll find a way for him to train as well.”
Eyes sparkling, he turns to me, a soft smile pulling at his lips.
She drops off Tally’s back, grinning at him. “Well then, I’d better hold up my end of the deal. Gotta get you away from the likes of Bridget. I know you don’t like me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to help you.”
Their height difference is almost humorous. He’s got at least a foot on her. His attention shifts down, brows furrowed. She holds his gaze, unblinking. Silence fills the air as their stare-off remains unbroken, but the twitch of his hands gives enough away. This is going to end badly.
“Who wants to go grab food? I need a refuel before round two with Bridget tonight,” I ask, breaking up the tension.
“Ew, you’re going to run yourself ragged trying to train the bitch out of her,” Leah grumbles.
Grady lets out a laugh, chest shaking.
“You’re something else, Star.” I immediately bite my tongue for letting the name slip.
“Star?” Her eyes glimmer.
“Sorry, I only call you that in my head.”
She bounces and hugs me. “It’s cute, unique. I love it.”
As she melts into my arms, I watch Grady over her shoulder. His face gives nothing away as he stares. I’m fairly certain he’s admiring how round her ass looks in these riding pants.
“Way better than Pinkie.” She laughs, pulling away. “Are you hungry too, Grady? Or are you going to make me keep him company by myself?”
Slightly flushed from definitely checking her out, he shrugs with a nod.
Looks like it’s the three of us again, just the way I like it.
I let my attention wander to the spot where Warren and Quincy were watching.
They’re gone now, which is a relief. I don’t like their random appearances one bit, and definitely want to avoid any other train wrecks at Carrie’s.
It would also be incredibly unfortunate if word got back to Henrietta about the way we keep flirting with Leah.
We turn Tally out in the pasture, then go our separate ways to change, regrouping at my car. Our drive is fairly quiet, the easy companionship is enough.
We’re escorted to our booth as soon as we arrive. I take the window seat, Grady sits next to me, and Leah claims the far side for herself.
As we wait for our food, I decide it’s now or never. “Hulk,” I start, voice shaking slightly. He considers me, single brow raised. “We… uh. We should tell her about the thing we discussed.” I fiddle with my silverware, afraid of the emotions in his eyes.
“What thing?” Leah asks, tone tentative but curious.
She’s not stupid. My horrid poker face has clued her in.
Grady blows out a heavy sigh, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. His jaw clenches and relaxes rhythmically as he contemplates his next move. To Leah’s credit, she doesn’t say anything. While she waits patiently, all I can do is hold my breath.
Several minutes of heavy silence pass.
I almost say something, but Grady beats me to it. “I…c-c-c.” Biting his cheek, he draws a shaky breath in through his nose, closing his eyes to avoid Leah’s awestruck expression. “I c-c-can t-talk.”
“Wow,” she breathes out, blinking slowly. “Your voice is so nice.” Her smile is so warm it could melt steel.
Clearly unaccustomed to the compliment, he jolts.
She’s not wrong. No amount of stuttering could hide the rough timbre of his voice. Deep and gravelly. It may be due to the general lack of use, but either way, it clearly affects her the same as it does me.
“Th-th-th—” He pauses, swallowing his nerves. “—Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” she replies, without a trace of judgment.
“See? I told you she wouldn’t think less of you.”
“Wait, you thought I’d make fun of you because of a little stutter? That’s no biggie at all! One of my brothers has a stutter, too. His isn’t bad, it mainly shows up when he’s nervous, but still, it’s nothing. I wouldn’t even need to warn my mama about it.”
“R-r-really?” He sits up straighter, shoulders relaxing.
“Yeah, if you don’t feel comfortable talking, though I’ve gotten pretty used to reading you… Not that you’ve given me a lot to go by.” She chuckles.
Appreciation shines in his eyes. A small part of his long-lost self-worth comes back to life. Our food arrives on cue, giving him a free out to end the conversation. Together, we enjoy our chicken and waffles in peaceful, familiar silence.
I had no doubt that she would treat him the same, but he has been terrified of her finding out. After the last altercation with Bridget, I pushed him to get the gall to tell her before Bridget did. Thankfully, he listened, and now we’re that much closer to transparency.
Secret one, shared.
Now to get them on board with the rest.