Chapter 5
Drew
As we walk out of the stable building, I’m expecting to see Carlos, but my blood boils when I see the very noticeable sports car. A sports car I know well and would love to ride a tractor over.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask.
“Well, that’s some greeting, Drew.” The dick Richard King smirks as he closes his prick machine.
I turn to look at Zara, and I’m relieved when she looks as confused as me.
“Who are you?” she asks, stepping forward towards him.
“Richard King, horse trainer to the stars, darling.”
“Okay, but why are you here?”
“To train your horse, of course. Why else would I be here?”
“She doesn’t need a trainer,” I snap, my temper beginning to show.
“Hmm . . . well, I’ve been hired by Mr. Doyle. He wants to make sure Jessica wins her next race.”
“Her name is Jasmine, and you know it. Cut the crap, Dick, what are you really doing here?”
“I’ve come to train . . . Jasmine. Well, I’ve come to have a look around and see what else we will need to make her a winner.”
“You’re not training my horse,” I growl through gritted teeth.
“It’s not yours anymore. It’s Mr. Doyle’s, and he hired me, so you’re not required.”
“It is a she and she is Jasmine, have some fucking respect. And you’re wrong. The horse belongs to Zara. Jasmine is in her name.”
“Mr. Doyle has paid up front. I don’t have to tell you what letting a client down will do to your reputation, now do I?”
“Excuse me, gentlemen, but I don’t really understand what’s going on here. There seems to be a dick measuring competition, which I don’t want to be part of, however, I do want to know why you are here . . . Richard, was it?”
“Oh, darling, you don’t listen very well, do you? I’ve just explained. Now please, can you show me where you’re housing . . . Jasmine?” he asks in a sickly-sweet voice that makes me want to punch him hard in the gut.
“I am nobody’s darling, Dick, and no, I will not show you where my horse is. She doesn’t need a trainer. She’s already got one.”
I watch, stunned as this beautiful shy girl turns into a strong woman, a woman who’s just ripped off Dick’s balls.
“I’ve been hired, sweetheart, and there is nothing you or him can do about it.”
“Really?” she asks. She puts two fingers in her mouth and whistles so loudly, I wince at the shrill noise.
Not one, not two, but three Rottweilers come bounding around the corner. I slowly manoeuvre myself behind Zara. I’m not scared of dogs in the slightest, but if she’s called them on an attack command, they won’t have a clue who is going to be lunch.
“What the fuck! You crazy bitch, call them off now!” Dick screams as he tries desperately to open his car door.
The problem with these fancy sports cars is when the doors open vertically, they take a little time to get fully open.
Zara lifts her right arm and points in the direction of Dick and smiles. The dogs change direction slightly and charge at the car.
I breathe out the breath I’d been holding, and a slight laugh escape. Dick is now screaming for help, and it’s only when the dogs are within a foot of the car that she lifts her arm out in front of her and signals them to stop. She lowers her arm and signals them to sit.
All three hounds are barking and growling at the open car door while Dick tries frantically to pull it shut.
“Now, Mr. King, let this be a warning to you. These dogs have your scent now, and the next time you come around here, I might not be here to call them off. Have a nice day, and please drive carefully,” she says with a smile that you could almost take as real.
She points to the ground by her feet, and the three dogs instantly move and sit in front of her, looking at her expectantly.
“Good babies, you did a really good job. I’ll get you some treats in a minute.”
As if they understood every word, they look at each other with disappointment. “I never break a promise, guys. I just don’t have any on me at the moment.”
I dig into my pocket and pull out a packet of mints. “Are these any good?” I offer.
“You’re a lifesaver. They won’t stop sulking until they get something.” She takes the packet of mints and gives each dog one. They don’t even taste it as they swallow it down, but they do look a little more content.
“I didn’t know you had dogs,” I say, surprised.
“They’re not mine. They belong to Shepherd. The gardener’s brought them with him every day since they were puppies.”
“Where did you learn the hand commands?”
“Shepherd taught me. He used to be one of the top gun dog trainers in the country.”
“But they’re not gun dogs.”
“No. His house got broken into, and they took his dogs and lots of his equipment. He decided to get some dogs that would be less easy to steal.”
“I bet! So, they’re guard dogs?”
“I think they’d like to be, there’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?” I ask, wondering where she’s going with it.
“They only know how to play at being guard dogs. All three of them are soft as . . . The whistle I blew was a playtime whistle. Shepherd and I used to play hide and seek with them, and when they found us, they’d bark and go crazy.”
“So, Dick was never in any danger?”
Zara starts laughing, and suddenly, I feel an urge to pull her to me and kiss her, take her in my arms, and strip her naked.
“No, well . . . I don’t think so. I’ve never really played that game with anyone else before.”
“So, they could have attacked him?”
“No, they are really well-trained in hand commands. You might think they are not looking, but believe me, as soon as I move, they know it.”
“They are lovely dogs, but I’ve gotta say, they are fucking huge. Doesn’t it worry you a little that they might turn?”
“No, I’ve been with them nearly every day since they were eight weeks old. I’m their mama, just like you’re Jasmine’s daddy.”
I’d like to be your daddy right now. Shit . . . don’t go there.
The sound of tyres against gravel snaps me out of my dirty thoughts as we both look to see Carlos pulling into the yard.
“What the fuck are they?” he asks, leaning out of the open window.
“This one is Mavis, named after Shep’s ex-wife.” She points to the smallest of the three. “This one is Trent, and that one is Burton. They’re named after the place they came from.”
“Where the hell is Trent?” I ask, not even knowing why.
“No, Burton on Trent. Near the Uttoxeter Racecourse.”
“Oh yeah, I’ve seen the signs,” I say. What the hell am I even talking about. Idle chit chat is not usually my bag.
“Boss, hate to break up the tour of Britain, but we need to get a move on. I’ve got a shit tonne of work to do before I finish, and you’ve got a visitor.”
For Carlos not to say who my visitor is tells me it must be a female. His ability to read situations is far better than mine.
“I’ll see you at 11:00 tomorrow. Don’t be late, and don’t take her out until I get here.”
“Absolutely. Do you mind if I sit with her for a while though?”
I climb into the truck and look at the beautiful woman waiting for my response. “Go for it. She likes company.” I slam the door closed and give her a slight wave.
“Don’t say a fucking word,” I say to Carlos, who is smiling like he just won the fucking lottery.
“You wanna bang her, don’t ya?” He laughs.
“Bang her? Bang her? No, Carlos, what I want to do to her hasn’t even got a name yet.”
“Oooh, Drew, you need to be careful with this one. Her father is a prick, and as far as I know, she’s never even dated.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to date her,” I snap. “I just want to see if she’s as hot between the sheets as she is out of them.”
“Drew, look, she’s a nice girl. Don’t go and ruin her.”
His words hit me like a knife to the chest. Is that what he thinks I do with women? Ruin them?
“Who’s at the house?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Now you ask . . .” He smiles and then winces when he says. “Veronica.”
“Didn’t you tell her I was out?”
“I did, but she said that you’d have to come back sometime, so she’d wait.”
“You could have told her that I was away in Australia for a month.”
“She’d only have come back in a month. You need to make it clear that you don’t like her.”
“I’ve tried to, but she doesn’t listen. When we get back, don’t leave me alone with her. No matter how hard she tries to get rid of you, don’t go.”
“Drew Blackmoore . . . are you scared of Vinegar Tits Veronica?”
“Yeah, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
Vinegar Tits Veronica wanted to be a jockey. I tried to train her, but she just wasn’t cut out for it. All she wanted to do was get into my pants. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but she was fifteen years old, and no way on this living earth was I going there. She gave Carter, my brother, a hard time and was a bitch to him—that’s where she got the name Vinegar Tits, and it kinda stuck.
By the time she turned eighteen, she was a real thorn in my side. I’d used her age as an excuse every time, but now she just keeps coming around and offering herself on a plate. It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. She’s grown into an attractive woman, but the way she blatantly tries to give herself to me turns my stomach.
“Did you see King Dick on your way to pick me up?” I ask.
“Yeah, he was all over the road. What happened?”
“Those three dogs and Zara.” I laugh. “Her father tried to hire him as a trainer for Jasmine, and Zara set the dogs on him. It was fucking hilarious. I wish I’d had the thought to film it.”
“I bet it’s on camera anyway. That place has more security than the tower holding the crown jewels.”
My mind begins to wander. Why is her father so hell-bent on watching her constantly? And why did he hire a completely different horse trainer? It doesn’t make sense.
Richard King is the son of Derek King, a wealthy businessman from old English money who also hates us Americans. Derek and Doyle have been in some sort of partnership for years. If one is at an event, then so is the other. Thick as thieves. Richard got into horses at an early age, and as he never wanted to really work for a living, he pretends that he has a gift. A gift that’s cost his father a lot of money. When Richard has finished training a horse, they usually end up with me to put right everything he’s done.
His little dig earlier about reputation was because I’d taken on a horse that Richard had trained. It was totally out of control. He’d damaged it so badly that it took me longer than I’d said it would to fix. A month before I handed the horse back, people started talking behind my back, saying I was a con man, that I couldn’t do what I promised. I wanted to shoot them all right between the fucking eyes. I took my father’s advice and ignored them, and eventually, I broke the chain of torture that Richard had inflicted on the poor animal and broke all his training. I handed over a perfectly sound and stable horse, a horse that went on to win The Cheltenham Gold Cup.
I was lucky enough to be stood close to Richard at the track when it crossed the finishing line. The look of embarrassment on his face made me feel triumphant and knowing that everyone in that paddock knew I’d trained yet another winner made it all the sweeter.
As Carlos parked the truck, I spotted Veronica out of the corner of my eye. “Remember, you do not leave my side. You do, and I’ll fire your ass. Got me?”
“You don’t need to threaten me. Fuck, she scares the living daylights out of me, too. Safety in numbers, Boss, safety in numbers.” Carlos chuckles as he steps down from the truck.
“Oh, Drew, where have you been? I’ve been here for ages waiting for you,” Veronica squeals as she comes up too close and too personal to my body.
“I’ve been working. What’s it got to do with you?” I snap, hoping she gets the message.
“Don’t be tarty with me. I missed you that’s all.”
“Veronica, please go home!” I say sternly.
“You don’t even know why I’m here.”
“Why are you here, Veronica?” I whine.
You can actually see the cogs ticking. She hadn’t even thought of a reason to stalk me. I shake my head and storm into the barn with Carlos by my side.
“Wait! I wanted to book some riding lessons.”
“Nope!” I reply.
“But I really think I need to improve my—”
“No, Veronica. No. It’s as simple as that. No. Do you hear me? Do you understand?”
“I hear you, but I think it’s you who doesn’t understand, Drew . . . I want riding lessons,” she says, smiling, and then she looks over to Carlos. “Can you give us a moment? I need to talk about something personal with Drew.”
I can feel Carlos’s attempt at holding in his laughter. “No, sorry. I’m on protective duty today,” he says with a slight giggle.
“Well, then I suppose I will just have to ask for what I want in front of the paid help . . . I want riding lessons, and not with a horse. There, I’ve said it!” she says, her cheeks pink and flushed with embarrassment. It’s almost sweet, but it isn’t.
“You want what?” I ask in shock. “No, don’t repeat it, I heard you the first time. No, no, and no. Now, please go, or I’ll have to call the police and get a restraining order. This is getting to be too much now, Veronica. Go home and stay the hell away from here and me.”
I almost feel sorry for her as her eyes fill with tears and then they spill over onto her rosy cheeks. Hold firm, Drew . . . It’s nearly over.
She turns away, but before leaving, she turns back and gives me a squinted look that has me frozen to the spot. “This isn’t over, Drew.” And then she’s gone, out the door and hopefully out of my life.
“You should really have a chat with her father. I don’t think he’d be too impressed,” Carlos says, leaning against the wall.
“Let’s just hope that the message sinks in.”
“You wouldn’t want her causing you any trouble, not while you’re trying to get into Princess Zara’s pants.”
“I’m not trying to get into anyone’s pants. If I wanted to fuck the princess, I could, you know that, but . . . there’s something not right with the whole setup. It feels off.”
“Never had you down for a guy with a conscience. Treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen, isn’t that what you drummed into me?”
“Yeah, but I have a feeling that she’s already been treated mean.”
“You gonna find out?”
“I might do a bit of digging over the next few days. Jasmine had a bit of a sulk on when I tried to leave, so I said I’d go and help her out and help Jasmine settle in.”
“So, you’ve got a soft spot for the princess then?”
“I’m not a totally heartless bastard, regardless of what people say. Anyway, I need to make sure Jasmine is being cared for properly. This is a big upheaval for her.”
“I get that, but you’ve never been this involved before. Are you sure that you’re the right man for the job?” he asks with a smirk.
“Fuck off and mind your own business. I’m still the boss around here.”
“Yeah, and I’m your voice of reason. Just don’t go and get in so deep you need rescuing, that’s all I’m saying. The Doyles are a weird family and have even weirder connections. Just don’t go and blacken that already charred reputation.”
“Okay, Father, fuck, anyone would think I’m a manwhore.”
“Well . . . aren’t you? You haven’t dated in years. You have regular hook-ups, but no one that you ever spend any real time with.”
“What’s with all the relationship shit?”
“I don’t know. I’ve not seen you look at a woman like that for a long time.”
“I don’t look at her any differently to any other woman. I sort of feel sorry for her. I don’t know why but . . . there’s something.”
“Yeah, you’ve said. Anyway, I’ve got work to do. We’ve got a few horses to turn out. You could give me a hand if you like,” Carlos says as he walks out of the office.
I nod and follow him into the stables. We each take a horse and lead them through the yard and out into the paddock. His words are running through my head over and over.
You’ve got a soft spot for her.
You haven’t dated in years.
What the fuck does he know?
After we’ve turned out twelve of the horses, I go upstairs to my apartment and shower and dress. Carlos suggested that we head to the village pub and have a few beers. It beats staying in watching shit TV, and by 8:00 p.m., I’m downing my first bottle. The cold liquid feels like heaven on my throat. Carlos joins me as I’m ordering my second drink.
“You trying to get smashed tonight?” he asks, patting me on the shoulder.
“No, I’m just thirsty. I’ve worked hard today. We both have.”
“True, but you don’t want a hangover tomorrow.”
Having a hangover tomorrow might not be a bad idea.