Nacho Figueras Presents (22 page)

G
eorgia rode home barefoot. It was tempting to leave her shoes behind for good. What the hell had she been thinking? Dressing for some Miss World Pageant? But since she still had a few days left in this place and might need to dress up again, she supposed she shouldn't do anything rash.

She tried to focus on the fun of it, the warm night air whipping her sarong, the smell of the ocean and the towering palms, the beauty of pretty much every passing car. She'd had a dance with a polo legend on the sand at Palm Beach.
That was nothing to sneeze at, Fellowes.

If she thought about it, it was perfect, really, to have had the fun of a flirtation with a man like Alejandro. Just what Billy had told her to look for in the beginning, a little romance to take the edge off winter.

Pilar was waiting in the front of the house when she pulled up, clutching her silk robe to her chest and looking mildly put out.

“Dr. Fellowes, a friend of yours has arrived.”

Georgia shook her head. “I don't understand—”

“A young man, he seemed to know you quite well, but he said you were not expecting him. He brought a suitcase with him.”

Georgia thought quickly. A man? It must be Billy, of course. But why would he stay here? Unless something happened with Beau…Of course. That would be it. A breakup and he wanted to lick his wounds with Georgia.
Oh, what a shame.

“I'm sorry he arrived so late, Pilar. Is he in the house?”

“I sent him back to the
casita
. He waits for you there.”

“Okay, thank you. Sorry again for the inconvenience.”

“Dr. Fellowes—Georgia—this man, he didn't seem a menace, but if you do not care to have him here, just scream very loudly and I will release
mis perritos
. My doggies can be quite effective if I tell them to be.”

Georgia laughed. “I'm sure it will be fine.”

Georgia hurried around the back of the house, eager to see Billy. Really, he couldn't have come at a better time. After the day she'd had, it would be a sweet relief to talk it through with her best friend.

He was standing in the shadows by the pool—his back turned toward her.

“Billy!” she called. “What in the world are you—”

He turned around and smiled that sweet, easy smile. Not Billy. Not even close.

It was Sam.

A
lejandro thought he should go home first to change. He couldn't very well wear a swimsuit to a cocktail party, no matter how small and informal Cricket assured him it would be.

“Of course, darling, I've got to change, too. We'll stop at my place first. I'm sure I have something that you can wear.”

Alejandro smiled, amused. Yes, he imagined Cricket had a whole closet of assorted men's discarded clothes to choose from.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the car seat, still a little high from the drinking. Cricket was right—he was not feeling exactly like himself. But that was not necessarily a bad thing. He replayed the dance with Georgia in his head and smiled. He knew he'd broken all his own rules—fraternizing with his employee, holding her close like that—but he really couldn't muster up the energy to give a damn at the moment. Winning the game had freed him somehow. It felt like the end of a long curse.

All his constraints and rules suddenly seemed priggish and arbitrary, designed by someone who pushed away the pleasures of life with both hands. When he'd seen her at the match, eyes shining, obviously so proud and pleased by his victory, she looked like a living beacon, a sign that the worst days were over. And then, when he'd seen her again on the terrace at the party, easily the most beautiful woman in the room, that was that. He was tired of holding back. He was sick of being numb. This woman woke him up, gave him joy. What was the point of fighting that kind of feeling?

Cricket parked the car, and they took the elevator up to her loft. “I'll just be a moment,” she said, climbing the stairs up to her bedroom. “There's a nice bottle of champagne in the fridge. Why don't you pop it open?”

He wandered into her kitchen. Cricket's place was immaculate as always. Vast and streamlined and modern. But he always felt just slightly chilled here. There were no soft surfaces, no warm corners to curl up in. Just polished concrete floors and vast, shiny leather couches. Metal and glass everywhere you looked.

He thought about the one time he'd stayed the night here. It had been years ago, just before they had finally taken Olivia off life support. Cricket had visited Olivia at the hospital every day, bravely acting as if her old friend would wake up and be her regular self at any moment. She did sweet and intimate things for his wife—painting Olivia's nails, applying lip balm, brushing her hair—things that Alejandro could scarcely bring himself to do. For him, Olivia had been gone since the accident. This body in the hospital bed was just a shell, and caring for it felt unnervingly like grooming a cold corpse. So he was grateful for Cricket's help, for her silent understanding.

And one day, their eyes met over the hospital bed, and he saw the same pain and loss reflected in Cricket's face that he knew was in his. And he had reached out to her, wanting to comfort her, wanting to thank her for her kindness, wanting to erase that deep, hollow sorrow he knew that she felt as keenly as he did.

They had come back to her loft, and he had spent the night. But while the first kisses had been tender in some ways, the sex had been athletic, competitive, and oddly dispiriting in the end. Before they'd even finished, it felt like a mistake.

He lay awake after, in the cold grip of guilt, as if Olivia were there with them.

Afterward, as Cricket slept curled up beside him, Alejandro's guilt had turned to panic. It was all he could do not to bolt out of the bed—out the door. He basically held his breath until morning, then went back to keep sad, angry watch over his wife's wasted body.

Cricket had talked to him later, assuring him that she knew that what had happened between them was nothing more than a moment of weakness on both their parts, that she understood it was a one-time-only thing. But now, as he took down the champagne flutes and popped open the bottle—pouring the golden liquid to the brim of each glass—he realized that he'd known for a while that Cricket had been waiting with patient confidence for much more. There was something seductive about her certainty, and he had to admit that, in the back of his mind, he'd been considering it. He must have let Cricket see that possibility, must have fed her hope, knowing how easy it would be, the relief his mother would feel if he made that match, and perhaps even Valentina would want a stepmother from her world.

“How about this shirt, darling?” said Cricket as she walked into the kitchen. He turned around, ready to offer her the champagne, and took a deep breath when he saw that she was wearing nothing but the shirt. And even that was quickly removed and offered to him. “Don't you like it?” Cricket said, her golden body naked—as sleek and lovely as everything that surrounded her—a challenging gleam in her eye.

“Want a robe?” said Sam, assiduously looking away from Georgia's skimpy bathing suit as he fetched one from the bathroom.

Georgia shrugged. It seemed beside the point now. “It's a warm night, but oh fine,” she submitted a little irritably as he rested the robe on her shoulders.

Sam smiled nervously. “I guess you've gone native.”

Georgia handed him a glass of wine, and he sat down beside her. “It's so nice to see you. But I must admit, I'm still a little confused about just why you're here.”

“Your father said you were so upset this afternoon,” Sam explained. “He said they were treating you terribly. That you're in way over your head.”

Georgia took a deep sip of her own wine and swallowed her annoyance. “I wouldn't exactly say that,” she said. “It was just a difficult day, is all.”

“He was worried. He asked me to come down and see if there was anything I could do to help.”

Georgia shook her head. “So you flew down on a moment's notice?”

Sam smiled nervously and looked away from her. “Well, I don't think it's any secret how I feel about you. Your dad certainly knows.” He shifted toward her. “Georgia, when we were together, I think that was maybe the happiest I've ever been.”

“That was high school, Sam. We were kids. We were completely different people. And if you remember, I wasn't quite all you wanted even then—”

He looked at her pleadingly. “See, I don't think that's true. I think I knew that you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with from the very beginning of things, and that's what freaked me out. We were so young, and I'd never been in love before and I just—I panicked. I only let you go because I thought it would be easy to find what was between us again. I thought I'd fall in love a dozen times over. But I never did.”

“Sam, I—”

“Please, just let me finish, Georgia. I need to get this all out. I'm sorry I hurt you—I can't tell you how much I've beaten myself up over that—but I never would again. Because I'm ready now, the same kid who fell in love with you back then, but man enough to commit. I've never gotten over you.”

She looked at him for a moment. “Oh, Sam.”

“Don't tell me you don't feel the same way.”

She hesitated. “I—I don't know what I feel honestly.”

He smiled at her and took her hand. “If you would just give me a chance, I'll show you. I know it could be amazing between us.”

She pulled her hand back. “Sam, I—”

There was a knock on the door. They both looked up, startled, to see Valentina peering through the window at them. Georgia leaped to her feet, spilling her wine. “Oh!”

Sam stood up and went to the kitchen.

Valentina opened the door and stuck her head in. “Hey,” she said, “sorry. I just came out to ask why I didn't see you at the party, but”—she looked at Sam, mopping up the spilled drink—“I guess I see why now.”

“Oh,” said Georgia, belting her robe. “No, I was at the party, and this—this is my friend, Sam. He just surprised me with a little visit. Sam, this is Valentina.”

Sam smiled at Valentina. “Pretty name,” he said.

Valentina frowned at him, her eyes narrow with suspicion. “Well, anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were okay, Georgia. But obviously, you're doing just fine.”

Georgia inwardly groaned. Great. Now the entire Del Campo clan would hear about this. “Yes, thanks. I'm fine.” She took a breath, but couldn't help herself. “Is—is your dad back yet?”

Valentina gave her a saccharine smile. “I doubt it. He's with Cricket.”

I
t would be so easy
, Alejandro thought as Cricket came to him on those sleek and magnificent legs; he knew his body would respond to hers like muscle memory. But he felt himself freeze. Cricket's eyes were already gleaming in victory but his heart was full of Georgia. Anything with Cricket would be a pale imitation of the feelings he had for her.

“I'm sorry, Cricket,” he said as the triumph died in her eyes. “You're so beautiful, but I'm beginning to realize that I want—I need, something else. I should go.”

He set the champagne flutes down on her glass side table with an icy chink, ignored her look of fury, and lightly kissed her good-bye.

Georgia felt cold now, the robe belted tightly around her.

“Where were we?” Sam said, rubbing her shoulders. “Should we go to the bedroom for more privacy?”

“No, Sam.” Georgia stood up. “I'm sorry. This isn't going to work.”

“Georgia, please. I told you I was sorry. I don't know how many times I can apologize for something I did when I was just a kid.”

“No, I know. We both were, Sam. We were children really. And the truth is, I think it was over for me before you were unfaithful. We'd run our course. You cheated because you knew that. And I didn't let you back in for the same reason.”

He took a step toward her. “Georgia, no, you—”

She pulled back. “It was nice of you to come down here and make me feel so looked after, but you deserve better than the feelings I have for you. Better than grateful. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you that sooner.”

Sam put his head in his hands and, to Georgia's surprise, began to weep.

She knelt in front of him, her hands on his knees.

“I'm so sorry you flew down here. And I'm sorry if I've held you up. I've confused things by not getting out of your way. By keeping up ties that should have been cut. You'll see things clearly now, I'm sure of it. This is for the best. You'll finally be ready to move on, I promise.”

Alejandro finally flagged a town car and took it straight back to the
hacienda
. He wanted to pick up that dance where they'd left off.

The
hacienda
was dark and quiet. His mother and daughter, obviously asleep. He stumbled through, out the backdoor, and down the path to the pool, eager to get to the pool house.

Her light was on. Was it too much to imagine that she was waiting for him? He stopped for a moment, smoothed his hair, took a deep breath, and walked toward the cottage.

He saw movement through the window—Georgia, her hair plummeting down her back—kneeling in her robe between the legs of a man he'd never seen before.

He stopped dead, suddenly cold and dizzy. Of course, he thought, Cricket hadn't been lying after all. She had told him Georgia had a man in New York. And tonight, when they were dancing, she had halted things—had wanted to tell him something—just before Cricket had cut in.

He closed his eyes, unable to take the sight of her with the man a moment longer. He felt as if all the joy of the day—all his triumph and optimism and forward momentum—had drained from his body.

He turned and left, not once looking back.

The next morning, Georgia came out of her bedroom to find Sam folding up the blankets from the bed she'd made for him on the couch. They exchanged strained pleasantries over a quick breakfast before she walked him out to his car and gave him a fond but subdued good-bye.

“It was really lovely of you to come,” she told him. “I'll see you back up there very soon.”

She waved him off with a feeling of sad relief, glad he'd be free of guilt and she of the confusion she'd felt about him so long.

All morning, Georgia kept herself busy in the barn, checking and then rechecking the ponies. Determined to make sure that not a crack in a hoof or a tiny bite to the skin went overlooked. She would leave here knowing that each of these horses was in perfect shape. And if that kept her from seeing Alejandro before she left, so be it.

She was in Sugar's stall, combing out her mane, when Gustavo blustered in, closing the gate behind him.

“So,
señorita
,” he said, “how did it feel yesterday? Stings a bit, eh, to realize you're expendable after all? That you weren't even missed?”

Georgia shook her head, determined not to let him get to her. There was no point at this juncture. She was leaving, and he would remain—coming back year after year. These were his horses, after all, his team. Maybe he'd been right to be so protective.

“It wasn't great, frankly. But I'm sure I'll get over it,” she said, keeping her eye on Sugar, who was rolling her eyes nervously. The mare had never taken to Gus. She was too smart not to know that he thought she was better off as glue.

“You know,” Gus said, with sickening intimacy, “I knew from the minute I saw you that you were trouble. Making me look bad, and bewitching Jandro and Hendy into thinking you knew what you were doing.”

Georgia stayed silent and kept brushing, breathing through her mouth to avoid the cloying stink of alcohol on Gustavo's breath. Determined not to provoke him, she'd let him finish and then just leave.

Gustavo was staring at her, swaying slightly, his eyes glazed. A little cluster of spit had settled at the corner of his mouth. “I didn't think you'd last this long. I mean, I thought I'd either have you out of here within that first week or”—he ran the backs of his fingers over her shoulder—“tamed…”

Georgia jerked away. “That's enough, Gustavo. Go get coffee. You need it. I'll be out of your way in a minute.”

Sugar neighed nervously, swinging her head. Georgia turned to comfort her as she hung up the last of the tack. “It's okay, baby. Don't be scared.”

“It'll be me telling you when you're free to leave, Dr. Fellowes,” he hissed, cornering her in the stall.

Sugar pawed the ground anxiously as Georgia turned and faced him, furious now.

“Back off, Gustavo. I've tried to be patient with you, I've tried to be friendly, I tried to honor your experience and look forward to all you had to teach me. But you are the fraud here. You are the one who cares more about his next drink than any one of these ponies. I've watched you endanger them on the field, I've watched you neglect them in the barn. And there is nothing I am looking forward to more about leaving here, than never having to see your face ever again. Let me pass.”

He stood back for a second, just enough to open a gap. And as she brushed by, with surprising swiftness, Gustavo grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, pressing himself against her. “You fucking little bitch!”

“Get away from me!” she snarled.

The gate to the stall swung open, Alejandro stepped in, and this time Hendy wasn't there to hold him back.

That was rash
, thought Alejandro as he iced his jaw. The bruise was already starting to bloom.

He'd hit Gustavo only once before Sugar had reared and started to buck, and then they'd all been in danger and had to duck rapidly out of the stall.

Gustavo had charged him as he bolted the stall door, getting in a couple good jabs to his face before the grooms had separated them.

Still being held back by two men, Alejandro had fired Gustavo on the spot, relishing the moment even more for all the times he'd had to resist before. Gustavo had been a shit to him forever, and after hearing how the man had spoken to Georgia, telling him to clear out and never come back had been a sheer pleasure.

He'd turned instinctively to Georgia, hoping, he supposed, for some kind of approval, but instead she looked appalled. She finally asked, in an agonizingly polite way, if he minded if she slipped out a little early that night.

He'd nodded, of course, and as he watched her leave, the last of the adrenaline drained out of him and he suddenly felt empty and foolish.

The only consolation, he thought, as he tested the movement of his jaw, was having a place to put the pain.

He downed a couple of aspirin and went out to the paddock to catch a pony that hadn't been ridden hard the day before. Alejandro saddled up and rode out of the estate, determined to ride until he was comfortably numb once again.

Georgia went back to the pool house, slid off her clothes, and crawled into bed.

She was shivering badly, cold despite the reliable Florida warmth. Shaken up by Gustavo, still tender about Sam, and whether she wanted to admit it or not, absolutely heartbroken over Alejandro.

She'd been mortified by the scene she'd provoked at the barn, couldn't forgive herself for going and blowing up the bomb she'd been working all season to defuse.

She felt she'd lost everything. She pulled the sheets over her head and let the hot tears spill, crying until she thought she couldn't cry anymore.