Page 38 of Not My Little Drummer Boy
His mouth quirks in a half smile. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
Chapter 12
Iwaketooearly,and lie in the dark, unable to sleep. Yesterday’s rain has cleared, and the air outside is now still, holding the promise of a decent day once dawn bursts through in a couple of hours. It’s as though my body anticipates a text from Rachel even though I’m not expecting one, given the way I left her last night.
The most obvious reason for her to bail on our morning ride is a hangover. She didn’t really drink a whole lot, but, after sliding downhill so quickly last night, she could be feeling rough this morning. If Rachel is a no-show, I’m really hoping itisbecause she’s nursing a thumping headache from the booze. Not that I’d wish that on her, but it’s something that a couple of paracetamol will fix, and by noon she won’t even remember it.
The other reasons she might not want to ride out have more to do with me, and could have unwanted consequences.
Rachel is a proud woman, and even though she seems pretty resilient, I’m not sure how she’ll cope with the embarrassment of last night. Drunk, snoring—why the fuck I even told her about thatI don’t know—and then carried upstairs to bed. Having me see her like that, instead of her usual confident, holding-it-all-together self, well, she might not want to face me sober.
Saying no to staying the night might have dinged her pride, too. How will she feel after, having made it blatantly obvious I could have her if I wanted, I turned her down? Even though it was for the best of reasons. For a guy who’s made a name for bad behaviour, it would gut me if my principles—yes, I do have them despite what the papers would have everyone believe—were the reason I missed my chance with the woman I’ve wanted more than any other in a long time, perhaps ever.
I doze listlessly and, convinced it’s a lost cause, eventually drift back to sleep. At the chirp of a text, I jolt awake, scrabble around for my phone and through crusty eyes see the words I’d hoped for.
Trouble:Time to get your lazy arse out of bed Theodore. Sun’s nearly up and I’m not hanging about. Don’t even think about making me tack up your horse as well as mine. Though I might be tempted to leave your girth a touch slack...nothing quite beats watching you hit the dirt.
I grind my teeth at her use of my full name. Fucking Wikipedia. It’s got a lot to answer for. Only my dad calls me Theodore, and only because he chose the name. Finally, after three girls, he got to name a kid after his all-time favourite jazz musician, swing era pianist Theodore Shaw Wilson. It’s a nice sentiment, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy about it being plastered on the bloody internet for the world to see.
Outside the covers, it’s fucking freezing. The rain has stopped, but the temperature has plummeted. I grab clothes—my knackered old jeans, the chunky jumper Juniper knitted for me, thick socks—and get dressed in record time.
Trying not to make the floorboards creak, I edge my way down the hallway. The quiet house suggests everyone else is sleeping off last night’s cocktail session. Snoring from Garrett’s room tells me his nosy ears won’t pick up movement.
I find my shabby boots lying in the mudroom, tug them on, and make my way unnoticed out the back door to the stables.
Inching the stable door open, I avoid making the ancient hinges squeak.
Rachel is humming to herself, hoof pick in one hand and Solly’s giant hoof balanced in the other. He swings a head my way, and I hold a finger to my lips. He doesn’t make a sound, just surveys me with those calm brown eyes as if he understands.
I pause to admire the view: Rachel’s perfectly shaped arse pointing skyward, tan jodhpurs clinging to it as if they were painted on.
“Morning Trouble.” At my voice, Rachel startles upright, banging her head against Solly’s flank on the way, and dropping the pick with a clatter.
“Fuck, Teddy.” She whirls to face me. “You should know better than to do that sort of thing around horses. What if he’d reared up on me?”
“Nah,” I grin. “Solly’s rock solid. Anyway,heknew I was here.”
She glares up at him and back at me as if we’re co-conspirators.
“Whatever,” she says. “Just hurry up and get Bodie saddled. She’s been nagging at me for the past ten minutes to pay her attention. She thought you’d forgotten her.”
“Awww, Bodie,” I say, sticking my hand between the bars of her stall. She wrinkles her delicate muzzle, dusting my fingers with her warm breath before laying her ears back and trying to take a nip. Fortunately, I’m quicker than she is. She narrows her eyes at me as if to say, “Next time.”
“It pays not to piss off a lady,” Rachel says with an evil look of delight.
“I’ll bank that advice,” I say, opening the stall to clip a lead on my belligerent horse.
“We’ll wait for you. As long as you’re not too long.” Rachel unties Solly and heads for the yard.
Bodie is a right pain in the arse, swinging herself from side to side and calling after them, while I do my best to get her saddled up. I’m still so rusty at all of this, and she’s making it doubly hard because she’s worried she’ll be left behind. Now Poppy trusts Rachel and me with our own tack, I have no one to lend a hand with this little shit. After wrestling with her for a good five minutes, I give one final tug on the girth to be sure it won’t slip and cause me to take a tumble, then lead her outside.
Rachel has Solly circling the yard at a walk, the steady clatter of hooves echoing off the cobbles. She looks so perfect on horseback, beautifully poised like one of those dressage riders, totally in harmony with the horse. Is there anything she can’t do?
She seems so accomplished compared to me with my very limited skill set. Sure, I make truckloads of money from it, but I sense Rachel MacDonald wants more than a guy with a healthy bank balance. Beyond the physical attraction, and the fact we get on well, is there anything I can offer besides a quick fling? Up until now, I’ve never had to answer that question, because short-term pleasure is the onlything I’ve been looking for. It’s something I need to figure out soon, because our days here are moving so fast. It’s already Wednesday and so far all I’ve managed to do is invite her interest, then push her away.
I spring onto Bodie as they come to a halt beside us.
“Thanks for waiting,” I say. “Someone here was being difficult, as usual.”
