“It’s a very nice tradition.” Colt took a sip of his beer. “You must miss your mother. You lost her very young.”
Her smile faded. “Every day.” She looked down at the bottle in her hand. “She died up here. That’s why Daddy doesn’t like me coming alone.”
He sat up on his elbows. “I assumed she died while she was competing.”
She shook her head. “She and Daddy had an argument. I know, because the whole house heard it. It was a bad one—worse than usual. Daddy flew off to New York on business, Mama left the house in a state and came up here without telling anyone. When I finished my lessons with my tutor I went looking for her. I knew she’d be up here because it was her favorite place.
“I found her hat on the ground. I knew something was wrong. We searched for hours but we couldn’t find her. We were on our way back to the house when we found Zeus, her horse. Mama had gotten thrown from him and he was dragging her by the stirrup.” She pressed her lips together, a throb pulsing her insides. “He was taking her home.”
“I’m sorry,” Colt said quietly. “That must have been awful.”
The worst day of her life. Her heart squeezed. What she wouldn’t do to have her wise, kind mother here now to help her sort out the mess she was in.
She studied the play of the sunlight on the water, a dancing, rippling pattern that continually changed form. “I don’t think my father’s ever forgiven himself for it. I’m not sure I’ve forgiven him for it. I mean I know rationally, it wasn’t his fault, but I miss her so much.”
“Did you ever find out what they were arguing about?”
She shook her head. “Daddy won’t talk about it. One of the maids told me she heard them arguing about Zeus, but that doesn’t make any sense. Daddy never interfered in Mama’s horse stuff.”
He took a swig of his beer. “Isn’t the rumor Zeus was sired by Diablo?”
She laughed. “Oh, that’s not true. Everyone likes to make up these crazy stories about him. Demeter, Zeus’ mama, was bred with a French stallion named Nightshade—an equally impressive match. Nightshade was a three-time European champion, that’s where Bacchus gets his jumping ability from.”
He inclined his head. “Funny how rumors get started.”
She watched a loon sail elegantly across the glass-like surface of the water, its haunting cry echoing the dull throb inside of her. Being here it always hurt ten times worse, her emotions already far too close to the surface.
“She wasn’t just my mother,” she said quietly, heat gathering at the back of her eyes. “She was my best friend. My coach, my confidante, my hero. She taught me to ride before I could walk, took me to all the shows with her. We were inseparable. I wanted to be her when I grew up.”
A silence fell between them. “And you want to win for her,” Colt said finally.
She nodded, the tears stinging the backs of her eyes threatening to spill over. “I want to do what she didn’t have time to do.”
* * *
Suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle that was Cecily Hargrove were falling into place. Alejandro studied her over the rim of his beer bottle, heart squeezing despite his attempts to remain unmoved. How could he?
He’d watched her kill herself over the past week, wondering what ghosts drove her. Now he knew. But beating herself and Bacchus into the ground over and over again until there was nothing left of either of them wasn’t going to fix the problem—wasn’t going to fix them.
He’d seen glimpses of the real Cecily on the way up here today. Her spirit. Her joy. What she must have been like as a competitor when her demons weren’t chasing her. Watching her now was like watching light turn into dark.
Setting his beer bottle down, he turned to face her. “You know what I think,” he said softly, studying those beautiful, haunted eyes. “I think you don’t know who you are anymore. Who you’re riding for. I think you’re riding for everyone but yourself.”
She frowned. “The accident—”
“Was just the tip of the iceberg.” He tapped his head. “When this gets messed up—when what you want, what everyone else wants, when too much damn pressure starts to build—no one can perform.”
Her eyes widened. “Bacchus is a problem.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “he is. But you are the bigger problem. Until you figure you out, until you decide who you’re doing this for, you have no hope of making that team. You might as well pack it up and throw in the towel right now.”
Her gaze dropped away from his. She was silent for so long he realized he had gone too far. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” she said, lifting her head, eyes glazed with unshed tears. “You’re right. I have no idea who I am anymore. I’ve spent my whole life doing what everyone else expects of me. Giving up a normal life—leaving school, traveling eight months of the year every year so I can make this team...” She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. “What if I don’t? It’s all I know—it’s my entire identity.”
His throat tightened. “Then you find something else to be. But I don’t think that’s going to happen, Cecily. You clearly have the talent. Now you need to find the reason.”
A tear slid down her cheek. Then another. A curse left his lips. He pulled her into his arms, his chin coming down on top of her silky hair, her petite body curved against his. “You need to take control,” he murmured. “Decide what you want. This has to be you, Cecily, no one else.”
She cried against his chest. He held her, stroking his hand over her hair. How could he do anything else when she had no one, literally no one, to confide in?
He murmured comforting words against her silky cheek. Discovered her hair smelled like lemons and sunshine—that she was far more intoxicating than he’d ever imagined she would be, curled so tightly in his arms.
She finally pulled back, tears slowing. “Thank you,” she said. “No one is ever honest with me. Everyone tells me what I want to hear rather than what I need to hear. Except my parents. They just give me orders.”
He tucked a chunk of her hair behind her ear. Ran his thumbs across her cheeks to brush the tears away. “Then maybe you need to change that too. You’re old enough to own your own decisions—your own successes and failures.”
She nodded, eyes on his. Her lashes lowered, sweeping across her cheeks as the temperature between them changed and suddenly everything was focused on the fact that she was in his lap, her arms wrapped around him and really he should be disentangling himself right now.
“Colt?”
Distracted, he brought his gaze back up to hers. The reminder he wasn’t who he’d said he was, that this couldn’t happen, should have been enough to have him ending it right now, but the hesitant look in her blue eyes commanded him instead.
“That night in the barn—was I imagining that you wanted to kiss me?”
Por amor a Deus. How was he supposed to answer that? Lie and he would hurt her, something he wasn’t willing to do. But telling her the truth wasn’t an option either.
“I don’t think I should answer that question.”
“Why?”
“Because I work for you. Because it isn’t appropriate.”
“This is already past appropriate,” she murmured, eyes on his mouth. “And you’ve already answered my question