Nacho Figueras Presents (16 page)

T
he loft was much bigger than Georgia had expected. Instead of the cramped little crawl space in her own barn back at home, this was an entire second floor to the building, with matching floor-to-ceiling windows on either end of the room and beautiful dark wood rafters set against the bright, white ceiling. Golden bales of hay were stacked five deep and high against the wall, and the air was filled with their sweet, warm scent.

“I used to come up here as a teenager,” said Alejandro.

Georgia tried not to stare at the way his biceps bulged as he pulled himself up through the hatch. She could still feel the warm imprint of his hand on her back.

“This was my hiding spot whenever I needed to get away,” he said.

“Away from what?”

Alejandro gave her a twisted smile. “My father mostly. He could be…difficult. If he wasn't pushing me about our riding, he was usually messing around with some pretty student or another. There really wasn't a version of him that I could tolerate when we were in the barn. So, whenever things became especially bad between us, I would disappear up here. He never figured it out.”

Georgia drifted toward a window to look out over the fields. “This place feels like a world away from the rest of the barn.”

He followed her, but stopped before he was too close. “Yes, that is exactly it. A world away. I thought…I thought you might like to know about it, just in case Sugar's stall isn't always private enough.”

She smiled ruefully and rolled her eyes. “That obvious, huh?”

He shrugged. “Maybe only to me.”

He took a step closer then, and her breath caught in her throat as he reached toward her, but instead of touching her, he pulled something out from under the windowsill and smiled.

“I can't believe they're still here.” He showed her the deck of cards in his hand. “Sometimes Sebastian would come up as well, and we would play
Truco
—Trick—an Argentine card game, you know?” He laughed. “Sebastian always won. It drove me crazy. I knew he was cheating but I could never prove it.”

She smiled, thinking that she had never seen him look so relaxed and happy.

“Georgia,” he said, “I'm sorry I have not been more available to you. I think that maybe you have been struggling a bit with Gustavo?”

She shrugged. “I don't need you to fix it. It's my problem to figure out.”

“But it's my barn. I can step in.”

She shook her head. “No. I can do it.”

“Okay,” he said, “but if you change your mind—”

“I won't.”

He laughed. “Fine. You win. Do it your way.”

She raised her chin. “I will.”

He smiled at her and then reached out and pushed a lock of her hair off her forehead. His eyes were so warm. For a moment, she thought he would kiss her. She felt herself blush from head to toe. But his hand just lingered on her cheek, his soft touch almost more provoking than a kiss. The air around them turned electric.

He took a deep breath and dropped his hand. “I should get back to the horses.”

She nodded. “Me, too.”

He turned away from her, walking over to the hatch in the floor.

“Alejandro?”

He turned back.

“Thank you for bringing me up here.”

He held her gaze for a moment. “
De nada
,” he said softly. And then he lowered himself back down the ladder and disappeared.

M
onday was the horse world's day off, which meant Sunday was supposed to be the town's big night out. Personally, Georgia planned to collapse.

She was shattered. Her feet were painfully blistered from a long week on her feet in new boots, and she made a note to herself that she needed to get something less fancy and more useful as soon as possible. Her jaw actually ached from all the smiling she'd done in an attempt to cover up just how frustrated she actually felt.

The rituals of Sunday evening tuck were really something to see: the students already showered and dressed, the boys wearing dress shirts and slacks, the girls in heels and skimpy sequined dresses as they raced through the stalls, checking that each horse was properly bedded down for the night before they could go out and party. Enzo followed up like some benevolent overlord, tactfully confirming that everything was as it should be. When the last horse was put to bed, he told Georgia it was time for her to go home.

She couldn't help feeling a little lonely as she limped back to the pool house, hearing the laughter and chatter and car doors slamming as the grooms and students all set off in anticipation of serious fun.

She wondered what Alejandro was doing that night, whether he would go out or just stay in. She liked to think of him so near. She looked over at the main house, wondering which window was his bedroom.

She opened the gate to the pool, startled out of her wholly inappropriate reverie to find Valentina and a friend goofing in the water. Diving and splashing, they looked as sleek and privileged as a pair of Alejandro's best ponies.

The gate clicked behind Georgia, and both girls turned. Valentina gave an exaggerated eye roll and hauled herself out of the pool.

“
Vamonos
, Marcella,” she said to her friend, a study in bored glamour, who climbed out after her.

“Oh, you guys don't have to go,” said Georgia. “Really! I'm just going to—”

Valentina shook her head and shuffled her feet into flip-flops. “It's fine,” she said petulantly. She half sneered at her friend as they pushed past Georgia. “
Abuela
says we have to make sure
la doctora
gets her privacy.”

Georgia sighed as she let herself into the pool house. She really couldn't win. She didn't belong with the barn staff or the family. In fact, as far as she could tell, she didn't belong in Wellington at all. But that was fine, she reminded herself, she didn't need to belong. Really, all she needed right now was to get off her feet.

She was in her sweats, with an open bottle of wine in her hand, before she remembered Pilar's dinner invitation. She groaned. She was bone tired and would have liked nothing better than to drink wine, eat pizza, and sleep.

Still, she couldn't very well back out now. What kind of excuse could she possibly make, with the entire Del Campo family a two-minute walk up the path?

She put down the wine, peeled the sweats back off, and hit the shower. At least the evening might give her the chance to tell Pilar how grateful she was for all she had done. The barn might be a challenge, but coming home to her little house each night was heaven. Flowers, food, all sorts of thoughtful touches. She always felt like a treasured guest rather than just an employee. And, she reflected, it wouldn't hurt to show Valentina she was something more than an irritating invading species spoiling her fun at the pool house.

Her blistered feet stung as the hot water pooled around her toes. She stroked the bar of soap over her chest—it smelled sweet—like lavender and honey—and she worked up a luxurious lather. Her finger trailed through the bubbles, soaping her lower back, remembering the way Alejandro's hand had lingered there. His hand on her back, his touch on her cheek—they somehow burned even hotter in her memory than the night they had spent together. She closed her eyes and skimmed her hand down over her stomach, thinking of that one last dark look he had given her before he'd descended the ladder…

For God's sake, she was like a woman possessed. She turned the water all the way over to cold, and forced herself under the frigid blast before wandering back into her room to get dressed.

Even with Billy's recent contributions, the contents of her suitcase took up only a few short inches on one rail. Georgia found yesterday's jeans had been put away, and she cringed a bit to think of the maid going through her ratty old things and hanging them up as if they were priceless designer wear.

She sifted through the hangers, past all the shimmery little shifts Billy had given her. They all seemed too flimsy for a family dinner, and of course, most of the things she had brought from home were hopelessly worn or altogether too casual. But then, there was her mother's red dress…

She slipped it off the hanger and looked at it, running her fingers over the bright silk. It had seemed magical to her as a child—the way this dress had turned her mother into something out of a fairy tale. When she had tried it on in the cold and dim attic at home, she had felt like an impostor, but tonight, standing in this beautiful little house, the golden sunset light streaming through her windows, the scent of roses wafting in on the soft breeze, it seemed the dress's magic might belong to her after all.

Alejandro rode late that evening, exercising Temper under the covered ring in the lingering twilight. The new pony continued to perform like a dream—anticipating Alejandro's every whim—but whenever he glanced at the lights of the pool house, Jandro felt himself unsettled.

He brushed Temper down and handed him off to a groom. Try as he might, he thought, he couldn't stay away from her. Their time in the loft had been almost more unendurably intimate than anything that had come before. He felt as if he had shown her some small part of himself that he'd never laid bare to anyone.

What, exactly, was he doing? he wondered as he strode back to the
hacienda
. There was no good ending to this story. Even if he could find a way to have Georgia, his new unbelievably insistent object of desire, it could only ever be temporary. She had a home to return to, a job, and a life he knew nothing about. And beyond that, what could he really offer? It would surely turn out to be just like every other relationship he'd ever had. He'd never be able to give her enough of his time, his attention, his affection. She'd feel cheated and tricked and jealous of the team—just like Olivia had—and Georgia didn't deserve to be hurt that way.

He stopped before going into the house, closing his eyes and frantically running his hand through his hair. Why was he even thinking about this? This would not do. She was his employee. And really, how much did he actually know about this woman? She could have a boyfriend, for God's sake. But no ring, he automatically thought—realizing that he had actually looked for one—remembering her long, tapered fingers, the unpolished nails, so pleasurably incongruous among all the shellacked talons here in Welly World. He shook his head forcefully.
Enough of this.

His mother was on the terrace, looking unusually distracted in front of a table setting that, for all its apparently effortless elegance, he knew would have taken her a good hour to get absolutely right.

“Sorry I'm late,
Mamá
,” he said, misreading her frown.

“
Está bien
,” she murmured. “You're fine. But I think I made a mistake. I thought it would be the right thing to make Georgia feel welcome. She ought to meet some people her own age while she's down here. I thought after being in the barn all week, Cricket might be a nice change.”

Alejandro felt an uneasy sense of competing commitments, but gave his mother the smile of approval she'd expected.

“And Rory, Valentina, and Sebastian will be here, of course, but I did not think to include Gustavo, and then he just dropped by and saw the whole setup. It was very awkward…”

“He'll get over it.” Alejandro shrugged irritably. “We can't nanny that man any longer.”

Pilar raised her eyebrows, but Alejandro turned away, heading upstairs to change, and wondering what the rest of the night would bring.

Georgia picked her way up the path, heading toward the
hacienda
, and tried to hold her nerve. The back of the dress was too low for a bra, and her mother had never worn one with it. But, of course, her mother had been small chested like a runway model, whereas Georgia was definitely more endowed.
Just stand up straight
, her imaginary mother instructed her,
and work with what you have.

She'd slid on a pair of flat gold sandals that Billy had pressed upon her, and a chunky gold bracelet—her own take on the stack of tinkling bangles her mother had worn. She left her hair down, and air-dried it so that her curls were loose and a little wild.

Her mother would have worn more makeup, of course. One of the great pleasures of Georgia's early childhood had been to watch her mother sitting at her mirrored dressing table, smoothing on cream, patting on powder, drawing on her lips and eyebrows. It seemed to Georgia that her mother had been able to create a different face every day—pink lipstick one time, gold eyeshadow the next—she'd been a chameleon with her delicate pots and paints.

Georgia did not have anything remotely resembling her mother's skill, but she did apply some sheer red lipstick and a dash of mascara and was pleased with the results.
Very nice
, she heard her mother say.
Every woman needs a little color, Georgie.

Georgia smiled to herself as she walked up the path. She felt bold and chic now, as if she had a delicious secret. She wondered if this was the way her mother had felt every day, so at ease in her own skin.

She didn't know whether she should use the front door so she walked around to the back and saw everyone seated on the terrace.

“Right this way,
señorita
,” the housekeeper said.

C
hrist, she was gorgeous, Alejandro thought. The red dress skimmed Georgia's body in a way that begged speculation about what was underneath. Her hair was loose and curly, dark gold waves plummeting down her back as if she had just tumbled out of bed, her lips matched the dress, a luscious crimson he immediately imagined kissing in one hundred different ways. He couldn't take his eyes off her as she greeted his mother—and then Sebastian, Hendy, and Rory—with a peck on the cheek. But when she came to him, he was both disappointed and relieved when she kept her eyes down and raised her hand in a shy, little wave instead.

“
Doctora
, I believe you've met
mi nieta
, Valentina?” said Pilar.

Alejandro had to curb his impulse to snatch away his daughter's phone and throw it into the pool as he watched Valentina barely bother to look up from her device.

“And you remember Cricket? You met at
la fiesta
?”

Cricket strolled over in her short shorts to give Georgia a bright smile and a double kiss on the cheeks. “But of course she remembers me,” she said. “We were on our way to becoming the best of friends. I love your dress, by the way. So festive. Is it vintage?”

Georgia flushed. “It was my mother's.”

Cricket pursed her lips. “Oh, lucky you that you're the same size as your mum. I couldn't get more than one leg into one of my mother's frocks. But then, she's basically anorexic.”

Pilar led Georgia over to one of the patio chairs. “Jandro, get
la doctora
a drink,
por favor
?”

“Of course,
Mamá
.” Alejandro looked at Georgia. “Wine? Champagne? A cocktail?”

She looked flustered. “Wine is good, thank you.”

He poured her some pinot gris. As he handed her the glass, his eyes met hers and their fingers touched, and she pulled her hand away so fast that the entire cup of wine spilled down the front of her dress and then smashed on the floor. Georgia leaped up, dripping.

“Oh shit!” she said. Then she looked at Pilar, red faced. “Oh gosh, I mean, I'm sorry. Here, let me help clean up.” She bent to pick up the broken glass.

“
Ay!
” said Pilar, “Jandro,
tan torpe
! So clumsy! No, no,
Doctora
, don't touch the glass. You might cut yourself.”

Valentina giggled and took a picture with her cell. Alejandro made a furious note to take the phone from her permanently.

“I'm so sorry,
querida
,” he said. “Here, let me help you.” He pulled her up, reached for a cloth napkin from the table, and started to wipe at her dress. Cricket immediately intercepted, taking the napkin from his hand.

“Don't be ridiculous, Jandro. She doesn't want you pawing at her like that. She needs to get that dress off.”

“
Sí
,” said Pilar. “Lucky that you live so close. Go change, quick, and then bring me back the dress. We will take care of it before the stain sets.”

Georgia, looking absolutely mortified, stumbled out the door.

Alejandro turned to his mother. “I feel so terrible. Maybe I should go help somehow?”

Sebastian laughed. “Help ‘
querida
' out of her dress?”

Alejandro felt himself flush. “No, I just meant—”

Rory waggled his eyebrows. “I could be useful there, too!”

“Shut up, Rory,” Alejandro snapped.

Rory grinned. “Hey, just saying I'm happy to help.”

“I said,
cállate
!”

Rory raised his hands in mock surrender, and Alejandro started toward him, but Cricket hooked his arm in her own. “Oh for God's sake, Jandro, it's just spilled wine, not a gunshot wound. She's perfectly okay. Come and have a drink.”

Georgia pulled her dress over her head and tried very hard not to cry. As soon as she'd seen Cricket—wearing her perfectly cool, sexy, effortlessly now outfit and looking like a million bucks—she'd felt like an outdated joke in her mother's old clothes. What had she been thinking? She must have looked like she was dressing up as a gypsy.

And then she'd touched Alejandro's hand, and even that tiny little brush of his fingers against hers was like an electrical shock. She'd been so afraid that everyone would somehow know—see what was between them—that she had yanked her hand away without thinking.

So ridiculously stupid.

She stood in her panties, searching the closet. Now what to wear? She didn't even want to go back. She was certain she'd already spoiled everyone's evening, but what possible excuse could she come up with not to return? And surely they were all waiting for her. She put on a bra and then threw on a little T-shirt dress that Billy had given her. Peach. Not too fitted. It would be fine with her sandals. She checked her look in the mirror and then twisted up her hair into a loose topknot and wiped off her lipstick. There. She looked perfectly presentable, no longer trying to be someone she was not.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur.

The table was beautiful, with roses and candles and course after course of exquisite food. Georgia's wineglass was kept filled; there was laughter and lively conversation and funny stories. Everyone was friendly and warm—they obviously went out of their way to include her. It was all elegant, and gracious, and simply lovely. But Georgia felt like a miserable outsider for the entire time.

She could only seem to notice the things that went awry. She used the wrong spoon for the soup course, managed to confuse the team name Victoria with Alejandro's daughter's name (a mistake Valentina snarkily relayed to the entire table), she didn't know enough about polo to join in any discussion of the game, and worst of all, she was forced to watch Cricket, who was seated next to Alejandro, her platinum blond head a perfect contrast to his strong, dark profile, smiling up at him, making him laugh, placing a proprietary hand upon his arm more times than Georgia could count.

By the time they served dessert, she was absolutely awash with jealousy.

“
Doctora
,” Pilar said, touching her hand, “have you seen much of the town yet?”

“Oh,” said Georgia, tearing her eyes away from the way Cricket was leaning ever closer to Alejandro, “not yet. I haven't really had time, and honestly, I feel rather awkward about taking your car and driver.”

Immediately upon seeing Pilar's face, she regretted the bluntness of her words. Yet another mistake.

“I just meant—” she tried to backtrack.

“No,
entiendo
, I understand.” Pilar thinned her lips and gave her attention to the cheese and fruit on her plate.

“
Mamá
,” said Sebastian, “not everyone likes to be dependent on a chauffeur. I'm sure Georgia just likes to drive herself around. You should give her your Vespa to use.” He smiled at Georgia. “It was her birthday present last year, but she won't wear a helmet because of her hair.”

“That's not true,” protested Pilar. “I am simply too old for such a young thing. That is an excellent idea. I will have it ready for you tomorrow,
Doctora
.”

“Oh, thank you, but that's not—”

“And Cricket,” said Pilar, interrupting the pretty blonde just as she was reaching up to brush a crumb off Alejandro's face, “perhaps you could show Dr. Fellowes around Wellington a bit if you have some time?”

Cricket smiled warmly. “Of course, Pilar. How fun.” She looked at Georgia. “Anything special you'd like to do?”

“Oh,” said Georgia, “I'm so awfully busy that I—”

“She needs a new bathing suit,” said Valentina flatly.

Everyone turned to her in surprise.

“What? She does. Have you seen the one she uses? It looks like it's been chewed by
Abuela
's dogs.”

“Valentina!” said Alejandro sharply.

Valentina rolled her eyes. “Well, it's true!”

“Perfect, then,” Cricket smoothly interrupted. “Pool wear is my specialty.” She looked at Alejandro. “Of course, if she's working for you, darling, she probably doesn't have a minute off. I know you're driving her like a slave.”

Valentina snorted. “
Papá
thinks everyone should work as hard as he does.”

Alejandro shook his head. “Of course, Dr. Fellowes is free to take off any time she likes,” he said.

“Really?” said Cricket. “Now I'm worried. If you're that casual about her time off, I can't imagine you're paying her enough, darling.”

“What would you know about wages, Cricket?” Rory asked.

“The wages of sin, angel, those I know.” She laughed. She turned back to Georgia. “Anyway, I'm more than happy to take you out. Let's definitely make a proper date.”

Georgia smiled weakly and then had another sip of wine, fervently wishing for the night to end.