Now it appeared his daughter would carry on the tradition he and Maryann had established twenty years ago.
He found Ellie in the stables and engulfed her in a warm hug. “Keep riding like that, honey, you’ll be ready to compete in Seoul for sure.”
In Europe she’d be riding individually in dozens of equestrian events, but as an alternate would only represent the American team if one of the members couldn’t perform. The same held true for Seoul. But the rule was flexible, and the other riders knew it. The coach retained the right to make any last-minute substitutions that would be in the best interest of the team.
“Wasn’t Jube wonderful?” Ellie stroked Jubilee’s velvet nose and held up the second-place ribbon. The horse nickered and nipped at the bright red streamers as if he understood how well he’d done. The big sorrel stallion, a thoroughbred and quarter horse mix, stood sixteen-two hands tall, a difficult mount for Ellie’s small stature. Still the pair had worked miracles together.
“Your mom sends her love.”
“I talked to her a few minutes this morning.” Being an extremely close family, Ellie made regular phone calls home, and either her dad or mom usually called her every few days.
Will knew she’d been trying to become more independent, but he and Maryann had worried about Ellie all her life. That hadn’t changed.
Her groom, Gerry Winslow, took Jubilee’s reins. “Hello, Mr. Fletcher.”
“Hi, Gerry. How do you like the East Coast?”
Gerry grinned. “It ain’t sunny California, but it’s all right, I guess.”
“Gerry likes Gladstone just fine, Dad. The female grooms flirt with him all day. I think he’s going out with one of them, but he won’t admit it.”
Gerry blushed, made a soft clucking sound, and led Jube away. “Wouldn’t hurtyouto go out with someone once in a while,” Gerry called good-naturedly over his shoulder.
Ellie just smiled. Gerry was head groom. When she was younger, partially blind and more dependent on him, he’d had a crush on her. Now...well, he seemed happy to have her friendship, and she was more than grateful for his.
She’d never been much for dating, not even after her surgery. Teddy Wilson, a college basketball star, had captured her attention for a while. She’d almost gone to bed with Teddy, had waited because she’d wanted it to be right. Her father and mother loved each other so much. It was hard for her to settle for anything less.
Someday,she told herself. After the Olympics, she’d take some time off, maybe try dating again.
In her mind’s eye, Clayton Whitfield’s tall, powerful image flashed through her head. Ellie clenched her teeth at the unwelcome flutter in her stomach.
Her father tipped her chin up and looked into her eyes beneath the bill cap. “Gerry’s right, you know. Met anyone new and exciting?”
Ellie managed not to look away. “Nobody new.” Unfortunately, she had never met a man who excited her more than Clay. Along with his good looks, there was his dedication to the horses. She admired his expertise and uncanny ability to communicate his skills to the animals he rode. And there was something deeper, something she read in his eyes. Some part of him even he couldn’t seem to reach.
Speak of the devil and he’ll appear. As if she had conjured him, Clay came roaring toward the stables in his red Ferrari, the top down, stereo blasting, stirring up clouds of dust, getting the finger from one of the grooms.
A handsome, gray-haired man sat in the passenger seat. The two looked so much alike Ellie knew it had to be Clay’s father. Two beautiful blondes sat in the backseat behind them, their breasts practically spilling out of their low-cut tops. They laughed as they passed a bottle of champagne back and forth between them.
“Celebrating already?” her father said to Clay with a brittle smile. The car purred for a moment, then Clay turned off the engine and the dust began to settle.
“Winner’s privilege.” Though he spoke to her dad, his eyes were fixed on her. They traveled down her body so intimately, she was instantly reminded of the Clayton Whitfield she’d known in Aachen.
Clay climbed out of the car and his father did the same. “Stay,” Clay said to the girls, purposely treating them like lap dogs.
Ellie’s temper swelled.
“I’d like you to meet my father,” Clay said. It was obvious he’d been drinking, though he didn’t really seem that drunk. “Ellie, meet Avery.”
“Hello, Mr. Whitfield,” she said.
“Hi, honey. Nice to meet you.” His eyes ran over her body just as Clay’s had, but he made no comment.
Her dad said nothing, but his jaw clenched, and he folded his arms across his chest. He’d been a rider once, had known Clay and Avery for years. Ellie knew they were not his favorite people.
“Why don’t I buy you two a drink?” Clay returned to the convertible and lifted the lid off a small ice chest on the passenger-side floorboards beneath the blonde’s feet. He hoisted an unopened bottle of Dom Perignon.
“No, thank you,” her father said tightly.
