Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“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.