Join the Dance (Dancing With Horses Book 2) Page 2

  Melinda was just exiting. “Out of the way, Jane,” she said impatiently, as she steered Belvedere through the gate.

  I kicked Windsong so he surged through the gate and out of her way, but we accidentally cut in front of Shawn.

  Without a misstep, he smoothly made room and his horse fell in beside me and Windsong. Our horses’ similar heights put us at eye level. “Hi, again.” He grinned.

  The jitters skittered down to my fingers, and my grip on the reins loosened. “Hi.”

  Windsong started to trot. With spaghetti arms, I quickly organized my reins and slowed his gait. I glanced back, but Shawn had turned his horse in the other direction. Before I had completed even one circuit of the arena, he called me over to where he had parked his horse next to the board fence.

  I really needed to warm up since I had only a few minutes, but Erica Flame stood beside Shawn, and I couldn’t resist. I hesitated only a moment before riding to them.

  “Come here. Meet my trainer. She volunteered to coach for the team this year, along with Robert Peterson.”

  When I leaned over to shake Erica’s outstretched hand for the second time that day, Erica commented with a smile, “Seems we’ve already met. Hi there.”

  Erica’s daughter, who was standing on the bottom fence board petting Shawn’s horse, said, “Hey, you’re the girl that picked me up before.”

  I forced my gaze away from Erica to the little girl. “Hi. No broken bones, I see.”

  “No, Mandy is fine. She rode her next test beautifully.” Erica turned a proud smile on her daughter.

  “I got a sixty-five percent. I wanted a higher score—I am hoping to beat my mom’s score from when she rides later so I can win the ice cream sundae, but I don’t think a sixty-five will do it.”

  “No one beats your mom,” I gushed, looking at Erica with adoring eyes.

  Shawn chuckled. “We have a bet: if one of us has a higher score than Erica, she buys the sundaes. When we lose, we have to eat healthy food. I’ve only eaten ice cream once this season. Hey, you want in on the bet?”

  “I wouldn’t take that bet on Windsong. I’d be eating sprouts and soy burgers forever.”

  Erica laughed. “When do you ride, Jane?”

  Glancing at my watch, I blanched. “In eight minutes. I gotta get moving.”

  “You both better get moving. Shawn, you know what to do. Go.”

  “We’ll see you at the ring, Jane,” Mandy called. “I’ll save you if you get dumped!”

  Because I had had no time to ride the OMGs out of Windsong, there was a distinct possibility she would be doing just that.

  #

  Chapter Three

  Kate waved me out of the warm-up ring. She walked along the outside of the fence and met me at the gate.

  “Time to put on your coat and get over to the show ring.” She unfolded my shadbelly and held it up for me. When my parents couldn’t make it to a show, groom duty fell to Kate. As she dusted my boots, she gave me last-minute instructions. I slipped my arms into my jacket and nodded, listening intently.

  I jumped when Shawn called out, “Good luck, Jane!” He held up crossed fingers.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled.

  Kate glanced up at me and my face heated. “We met at the secretary stand. He was on the team last year,” I explained.

  “I know who he is,” she said, fixing me with a penetrating gaze. “He’s good. And he has a new horse this year. He’ll be tough to beat.”

  “Thank you for the boost to my confidence. He rides after me, you know.”

  She looked up, surprised. “I didn’t mean you couldn’t beat him, just that it won’t be a walk in the park.”

  “Nothing with Windsong is a walk in the park.” Windsong jigged and tugged the reins. “A hop, skip, and a jump in the park, maybe.”

  Kate squeezed my leg. “Just ride the horse, show them your stuff—”

  “And we know he has some great stuff.” Robert Peterson approached us. “Good luck, Jane. I’m rooting for you. You need this score, so make it good.” He patted my boot and headed to the rickety wooden bleachers. Last year he had given me a few riding lessons as I prepared for the qualifiers. He was a highly respected rider and winner of multiple Olympic medals, and an amazing trainer. In her younger years, Kate had trained under him, and the two had remained friends, hence my special access to his talent. He also was the head coach for the Young Rider Team this year, not that our knowing each other would do me any good since the qualifying process was based purely on scores.

  Great, more pressure. I gritted my teeth. Because my legs were attached to my teeth, they clenched Windsong’s sides and he lurched forward. I wrenched back on the reins, stopping him, and then he reared. My butt slid to the back of the saddle, and I clutched his mane, pressing my feet in the stirrups to stay on. He landed with a thud and pulled at the bit while he swung sideways. As I settled him and straightened myself in the saddle, I glanced around apologetically. Would I ever look like a cool, elegant competitor instead of a leaping looney?

  Kate gave my boots a final lick, and then swiped at Windsong’s lips. She smiled up at me. “Hi ho, Silver, away!”

  Yeah, right. Tucking stray wisps of hair under my helmet, I watched her run to catch up to Robert, and they settled onto seats next to Erica. I flinched when my finger snagged a piece of hair and ripped it out. “Ouch!” Yep, I peeked over there again and Erica was watching; she gave me a little finger wave.

  Thwack! Windsong flew sideways at the loud crack. I grabbed the reins and pulled them tight, turning to glare at the noisy culprit.

  Melinda was smacking her whip against her boot as she exited the ring. She wore her normal smirk. “We were great. Good luck beating that, Jumpy Jane.”

  “Oh, I will,” I answered in a fake confident tone.

  Windsong’s head swung toward the bleachers. As he pointed his ears, his neck became rigid. I followed his gaze but couldn’t find anything unusual, only my trainer and two Olympians looking on. I sighed and squeezed the horse into a trot. Windsong tossed his head and attempted a canter. I yanked back. Stop, beast! Why couldn’t he just relax and do the test. I closed my eyes, clenching my fists. Focus. No one but me and Windsong. Cory had taught me that mantra. I imagined him leaning against the fence, one boot up on the bottom rail, cowboy hat tipped down. I could almost feel his calm energy. My eyes automatically went to the gate looking for him. He wasn’t there, but sexy blond Shawn was. Melinda had stopped Belvedere next to Shawn’s leggy bay. Shawn watched me over Melinda’s shoulder as I rounded the end of the ring. He gave me a thumbs-up and another “Good luck.”

  Melinda turned Belvedere and said loud enough for me to hear, “She needs more than luck. Maybe drugs would help that horse.”

  I adjusted myself in the saddle, forcing my thoughts back to riding. No reason to be nervous just because two Olympians, a hot guy, and my arch enemy were watching my every move. I tugged Windsong’s head around until I could see his whole face. I leaned down, tickled his lips with my fingers, and looked him in the eye. “We are rock stars. So, big guy, let’s rock them all.” His tongue came out for a quick lick.

  The judge rang the bell, which woke up all the butterflies napping in my stomach. Windsong knew what that sound meant, too. His whole body puffed up and he became bigger, more animated. With a deep breath, I turned him down the centerline. Looking through his ears, with my eyes locked on the judge at the other end of the arena, I aimed right for her. The world outside the ring faded. All I saw was the creamy white sand and the letter boxes topped with red geraniums. All I heard were Windsong’s hoof beats, rhythmically hitting the firm footing. All I felt was rubbery tension on the reins and his body swaying through the movements. What was next? How should I prepare? Lovely, good boy. Let’s do another. Too soon it seemed, because we were having fun, we were back on the centerline heading to our final halt. I braced my shoulders and stopped my hips, holding myself straight and stiff like a soldier as Windsong’s body bounded
to a stop. With precision, I dropped my right hand to my side and crisply nodded once, down, then up. The judge stood and nodded back to me.

  With a whoosh I let out the breath I had been holding. Sounds began to penetrate my competitive zone. Kate hollered and whistled, her voice loud above the polite clapping. As I leaned down to give Windsong big pats on both sides of his neck, I glanced toward the stands. Kate, Robert, and Erica stood in the rickety bleachers, all three grinning and smacking their hands together. Erica caught my eye and pumped her fist in the air. Mandy bounced up and down on her toes, making such a racket the others in the bleachers turned to stare at her.

  I laughed and turned Windsong to head out of the arena. Shawn, in a top hat and perfectly fitted tailcoat, glided in on his refined bay horse. He looked different, incredible, the epitome of elegance—not the same cocky guy who draped himself over Windsong’s withers at my trailer.

  “Awesome ride! Way to go, Jane!” He flashed a traffic-stopping grin.

  His enthusiasm startled me, sparking heat in my belly. I nodded, speechless. Wasn’t I the competition?

  “Thanks, good luck to you,” I remembered to say when he was already halfway down the ring.

  Kate met me at the gate. “Very nice ride. Are you happy with it?”

  I shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I can never tell.”

  The judge’s bell rang again, and Kate turned to watch Shawn ride down the centerline. “There goes your competition.”

  I turned too. “My superior, you mean.” She didn’t respond.

  Mandy stood shyly a few feet away. I smiled at her.

  “Can I pet him?” When I nodded, she came closer and stroked Windsong’s shoulder. “Mommy said you might win the ice cream.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “I don’t think so.”

  “I thought you looked great. And I didn’t have to rescue you. You stayed on when your horse misbehaved.”

  So, she saw that. “Rearing is easier to stay on than bucking. Windsong doesn’t buck like your horse.”

  “I guess.” She climbed on the fence to watch Shawn. “C’mon, Shawn! Get me some ice cream!” she cheered.

  Shawn was doing a canter half-pass. He made it look easy, sitting tall and straight as his horse floated sideways like a ballet dancer. My heart swelled as Shawn began an extended trot, his horse reaching its legs out as far as it could, flaring its nostrils, softly responding with everything it had to Shawn’s elastic touch. “Beautiful,” I whispered.

  “You’ve only been in this program for a few months,” Melinda interrupted. “Why would two Olympians care about your ride?” Her voice was a pitch higher than usual.

  “They were just watching. They don’t care,” I said, my gaze locked on Shawn and his horse. What did he say its name was, Donner? Like the reindeer? The delicate features and long, slender legs certainly could belong to a deer.

  “Of course they don’t care. It’s you, for God sakes,” she mumbled, shaking her head.

  I ignored her.

  Shawn came to his final halt and removed his hat for a smart salute. He loosened the reins and patted the bay as they turned and swung out of the ring.

  I grinned and clapped. Competition or not, that was a nice ride. I glanced at Melinda. She was clapping too, but the look on her face was one of infatuation. She beamed, eagerly awaiting Shawn’s approach. I watched with amusement, until her face fell. I turned to see why. Shawn’s eyes were on me as Donner strode out of the ring. Reflexively, I smiled and said, “Great ride.”

  He held my gaze. “Thanks. I’m glad you stayed to watch. It looked okay?” His voice was low, intimate, like he cared whether I was impressed.

  I nodded. “You looked great.”

  “Shawn, you were awesome!” Melinda’s nasally voice was a little too loud. She pushed Belvedere forward between Donner and Windsong. “You even nailed those half-passes to the left you were struggling with last month.”

  “Thanks,” he said, barely glancing in her direction. He steered Donner around her, giving me one last charming smile, and continued on to the barns.

  “That was a good ride, but mine was better,” Melinda reassured herself. “Nothing for me to worry about.” She yanked Belvedere’s head around and kicked him. His hind end bumped into Windsong as his long body pivoted. Windsong stepped back and flipped his tail in annoyance, lashing Melinda across the leg. She huffed and her glare pierced me. I smiled and turned Windsong to follow her back to the barn.

  #

  Chapter Four

  A shiver of anticipation tickled through me as I climbed into the bleachers with Kate. The rickety wooden stands were filling with people coming to watch the evening’s Grand Prix Freestyle class. We settled in, and I giggled to myself when someone spoke excitedly, “We’re lucky tonight, because Erica Flame is here. I can’t wait to see her ride in person.”

  I was tempted to turn around and tell the woman that I knew Erica, that I had a bet with her. How crazy was I to be sitting here thinking I might win that bet with such a big celebrity on such a talented horse? I banged my knees together eagerly. My score today was good, even though I was performing at an easier level, but Erica was one of the best riders in the world. She was an Olympian, and Santos would probably go with her to the next Olympics. It was a little girl dream to think there was even a chance that my score would be higher than hers. All that silliness aside, watching Erica was going to be a treat in itself, worth eating gobs of sprouts.

  “Jane, Jane? Can I sit with you?” Mandy stood at the bottom of the bleachers. She pulled away from the woman she was with and climbed through people toward me.

  The woman started after her. “Mandy!”

  “It’s fine,” I mouthed toward the frustrated woman. Mandy settled on the bench beside me.

  “That’s Michelle, Mom’s groom. She stands next to the fence and tells me to shush the whole time. I like to talk—so sue me.”

  “I can’t wait to see your mom ride.”

  “She’s a little nervous,” Mandy admitted. “If the speakers make crackly noises, Santos gets upset. She doesn’t think this rinky-dink show will have a good sound system.”

  “They’ve sounded okay so far. And this show is pretty major in our region.”

  Mandy looked at me sideways. “It’s not the Olympics.”

  “True, she’ll be fine.” I patted Mandy’s shoulder.

  “We’ll see. I gave Santos a magic peppermint so he would behave. That sometimes works for me and Tucker.”

  Shawn climbed up next to Mandy. “Is this seat taken, Princess Mandy?” he said like a gallant knight.

  “Hi, Shawn.” Mandy giggled and pulled Shawn down onto the seat beside her. She turned to me. “Shawn’s my friend. Mom helped him get Donner. We rode in the truck a lot looking at horses.”

  Shawn put his arm around her skinny shoulders. “Lots of hours,” he said, poking her in the ribs, “and all Mandy did was talk.” He looked over her head at me and winked.

  That flock of butterflies launched in my stomach, their wings tickling my insides. He was flirting with me. His smile widened when I didn’t stop looking. I swung forward and concentrated on the show arena.

  “Congratulations, by the way.”

  “For what?” I said without turning my head.

  “For placing third in the class. And for beating Melinda. She’s going to pop a gasket.”

  “I thought she was your friend.”

  “She is, but the challenge is good for her. She needs to work a little and stop skating on Belvedere’s talents.”

  My jaw dropped. “I guess since you won the class you think you can say that.”

  “I can say it ’cause it’s true. She’s a good rider, but she doesn’t like to work hard. I know. We were on the team together last year. If she doesn’t watch out, you’re gonna knock her right out of her fourth-place spot.”

  I spun toward him. “I am?”

  “You could. Tomorrow will tell,” Shawn affirmed.

  The Grand Pr
ix Freestyle had started, and the first rider circled the arena. In a freestyle class, riders chose music to suit their horse and their own personal style. When they got it right, the music matched the horse’s gaits and they danced gracefully together. When they got it wrong, it was like watching a geek on the dance floor at the senior prom. Yuck!

  Mandy talked the whole time. She seemed to have something to say about each pair, even if it was to comment on how pretty the rider’s stock pin was. I realized quickly that I didn’t have to respond, she just kept talking anyway. With eyes trained purposefully on the ring, I pretended to completely ignore Shawn. He laughed at something Mandy said, and I felt him glance in my direction, felt him willing me to turn my head. Don’t look. He wants to flirt, to melt me with his sexy eyes and charming grin. I kept my eyes on the ring.

  Thank goodness, it was finally Erica’s turn. A shimmering charisma emanated from the fiery red horse with the lightning bolt blaze as he powered through the entrance gate. His four brilliant white stockings flashed against the sand. Erica sat aboard regally, absorbing all his motion with her flexible back, never allowing her perfect posture to be affected by the horse’s immense energy. A wave of applause followed them around the ring. Erica grinned and nodded to her admirers as she rode by.

  Shawn held up his crossed fingers, and Mandy copied him. I sucked in a breath and let it out with a shiver. The judge rang the bell, and a hush fell over the crowd. Mandy clutched my knee.

  Santos stood for a moment outside the ring, and then Erica raised her arm to signal the start. The music began with a dramatic flourish, and Santos matched it with his ground-eating trot. They turned down the centerline and passaged into the ring, floating in perfect time to the music.

  I didn’t breathe through the whole performance. Erica and Santos were truly dance partners. When Erica tipped a shoulder or cocked a hip, Santos immediately matched her movement. He was a big, powerful warmblood, his legs twice as thick as Windsong’s, but he moved lightly, like he was tiptoeing over the sand. It seemed his big body was in the air more than on the ground, and Erica a feather on his back.