nights were still chilly, so I topped everything off with my old leather jacket.
I went back into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. My hair was too long. The warmer the weather, the shorter I kept it, and it wasn't behaving. I combed it again, without effect, then leaned over the sink and squinted at the scars on my face. Even though they'd faded since my stay in the hospital, they were still depressingly noticeable.
I thought about Rachel, combed my hair one last time, and grinned at my reflection.
Damn, you're a fool to be liking her so much so soon.
At Foxdale, cars and pickups and even a motorcycle or two were jammed into every conceivable space. I parked on the grass shoulder close to the road and, with an almost forgotten feeling of lightheartedness, walked down the lane and joined the party. The last trace of daylight had seeped from the sky, and the Christmas lights Mrs. Hill had strung in the dogwood saplings beyond the indoor twinkled in the gentle breeze. The sound system was impressive, and the food smelled great. I looked for Rachel. When I couldn't find her, I loaded a plate down with barbecued chicken and steamed shrimp, grabbed an ice-cold Coke, and sat on the grass.
I was thinking about seconds when the crowd shifted. Mrs. Hill was standing under the canopy, talking to a distinguished-looking man with gray hair and a salt-and-pepper mustache. He was wearing an expertly-cut three- piece suit that went a long way toward disguising his bulging middle-aged gut. He bent forward, cupped his hands around the end of his cigar, and struggled to keep his lighter from going out in the breeze. I watched his cheeks work as he puffed on the stogie and idly thought that he shouldn't be smoking so close to the barn. Someone stepped in front of me, blocking my line of sight.
'Hello there.' Rachel crossed her arms and grinned down at me. 'I was wondering if you were going to show.'
I stood up. 'Wouldn't have missed it.' I ran my fingertips along the corners of my mouth and hoped I didn't have any barbecue sauce on my face.
When she looked over her shoulder and checked out the crowd, I put the opportunity to good use. She'd ridden earlier, so I was surprised to see that she'd changed her clothes. She was wearing a soft-looking sweater and a pair of jeans that were snug enough to get my pulse racing. Her hair was no longer confined in a ponytail and hung well past her shoulders. I wouldn't have minded running my fingers through it. Wouldn't have minded kissing her, either.
She tilted her head back and gazed at the night sky. The line of her neck was immediately stimulating. Long, taught lines. Creamy smooth skin. Form and function blended in such a way that could only be viewed as sexual by an adult male.
'It's turned out to be a nice evening, hasn't it?' she said.
I imagined what it would be like to slide my hand into that sweater of hers. 'Um-hum.'
'I can't believe how many stars you can see out here. It's beautiful.' When I didn't respond, she turned to look at me, and I thought it was a damn good thing she couldn't read my mind.
'Um-hum, beautiful,' I mumbled.
She looked at me strangely, and I figured she wouldn't need to be a mind-reader if I kept acting like an idiot.
I cleared my throat. 'Have you eaten?'
She nodded. 'The food's delicious. How often does Foxdale have these parties?'
'Several times a year. The next one'll be in June, at the start of the four-day A-rated show. Then there's a Halloween party for boarders and students. That one's a blast. It's held in conjunction with a fun-day horse show for the kids. They wear costumes and compete in silly games. Then there's the Christmas party. The boarders' committee plans and organizes that one.'
'Very impressive. It must be a lot of work for you.'
'Yeah, but it's fun.' I ran my fingers through my hair.
We were standing close, the goings-on around us oblivious, at least, to me. Mrs. Hill chose that moment to walk over and say hello. I didn't hear her at first.
'… Stephen?'
I turned around. 'Mrs. Hill?'
'Stephen… this is Mr. Ambrose. Mr. Ambrose,' she said with a look of amusement in her eyes that I think only I noticed, 'Stephen Cline.'
Wow. The man himself, and after all this time.
'Hello, Stephen.' Ambrose held out his hand, and I shook it. 'I've heard a great deal about you from Mrs. Hill. According to her, you're the driving force behind Foxdale's recent success. Well done, young man.'
'Eh… thank you, sir.'
He took a puff from his cigar and uninhibitedly looked me up and down. 'How old are you?'
'Twenty-one, sir.'
He grunted. 'I don't mind telling you I'm pleased with how the farm is prospering just now. When my wife decided to have it built, I thought it a foolish idea. I continued to think so for a long time, but when she passed away, I held onto it in honor of her memory. Now, it is no longer a burden but an enterprise I don't mind having my name connected with.'
I glanced at Mrs. Hill and wished I hadn't. She was grinning at me with what I could only read as motherly pride.
'Well done, young man.' Ambrose clapped me on the shoulder.
'Thank you, sir.'
He gave me a curt nod, glanced at Rachel, then put his hand on Mrs. Hill's shoulder and steered her toward the parking lot. I heard his voice clearly over the crowd. 'Imagine, losing a tax write-off because of a twenty-one- year-old kid.'
Chapter 9
When I looked back at Rachel, I realized I'd forgotten to introduce her. I apologized.
'That's all right.' Her eyes twinkled with humor. 'You were too busy being run over.'
I snagged one of the servers, got a beer for myself and wine for Rachel-served in a plastic cup, nonetheless- and said, hoping it didn't sound idiotic, 'To the future.'
'To the future.' She hesitated before taking a sip. The Christmas lights reflected in her dark eyes, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, the future would be an improvement over the past.
We carried our drinks into the barn and checked out the inhabitants. I stopped at the second stall on the right. 'This is Jake, one of my favorites.'
Rachel grasped one of the bars on the stall door, and the gelding tentatively stretched his neck and nuzzled her fingers with his velvety black nose.
'Yep,' I said. 'He's as sweet and as docile as a lamb, but boy, can he jump. Jumps like a jackrabbit.'
We drifted down one side of the aisle and up the other. Kids were running and squealing in the aisle across the way, turning the barn into a playground. Most of the horses were eating their hay, some were dozing, none seemed disturbed by the activity. When I was satisfied that they were fine with all the commotion, we crossed over to barn B and eventually stopped at her horse's stall. The gelding tilted his head to the side, the way they do when they think they're going to be fed, and tried his damnedest to look cute.
'You're embarrassing. You know that?' Rachel stretched her fingers between the bars and rubbed his nose. He pulled back in annoyance.
Just then, Marty, obviously a shade drunk, strolled into the barn with his arm slung around the shoulders of a tall blonde and a beer dangling from his hand. I had never seen her before, but I wasn't surprised. With Marty's dark good looks and outgoing personality, he was never alone for long. They came to an abrupt halt in front of us. The blonde swayed from the unexpected maneuver. I glanced at my drink and wondered if I'd be driving them home.
'So-o-o, there you are,' Marty slurred. 'Was wonderin' where you'd got to. Steve, this is Angie.' He paused, and I noticed a mischievous glint in his eyes as he added, 'Jessica's sister.' He gestured with his hand and beer
