“I would have, if I’d thought of it. I guess I’ve been a little preoccupied lately.”
“I know what you mean,” Maggie said. “Well, I just wanted to drop by and tell you how thrilled I am for you. I’d better get back to the hotel.” Maggie threw a last glance at Jake, their eyes locked, then each turned away.
“Congratulations.” Prissy Knowles approached the barn, leading Julius Caesar. “You and Jube were terrific.”
“Thanks.” Ellie stood outside her tack room brushing Jube, her mind going over events of the day.
“What’s the matter? You’re supposed to be excited.”
Ellie shrugged. “I wanted to beat Clay.”
“But that’s what you did.”
“Not really. Clay wasn’t trying. I’ve never seen him ride as poorly as he has this week.”
“So he’s a little down in the dumps. So what? We all have our off days.”
“Not Clay. Clay rides his best no matter what mood he’s in.”
“You’ve got a point there. He’s one tough competitor. It takes a lot to get him down.”
Ellie continued stroking Jube, who nickered softly at her gentle touch.
“You don’t suppose he’s pining away over you?”
Ellie laughed. “Hardly. He’s got women two at a time these days.”
“Same old Clay. Just be glad you didn’t go to bed with him.”
“We really never came close.”
“Lucky for you.”
“I suppose.”
“You suppose what?” Clay sauntered into the barn, stopping a few feet from Ellie. He propped a wide shoulder against the wall and crossed his long, booted legs in front of him.
“She supposes you could have ridden better today,” Prissy said. “What do you suppose?”
“I suppose the lady is right,” he said darkly. Reaching down, he picked up a piece of straw and clamped it between his teeth, but his eyes remained on Ellie.
Prissy glanced from one of them to the other. “I’ll see you two back at the hotel,” she said, and Ellie felt a moment of panic.
“What’s the matter?” Clay growled as Prissy disappeared out of sight. “Afraid I’ll carry you into the tack room and make passionate love to you? Or afraid I won’t?”
“I see you’re in fine form today,” Ellie said, beginning to stroke Jube faster.
“I feel like hell, and you, Ms. Fletcher, are the reason. In two long strides, Clay ducked under Jube’s lead rope and came up beside her. “Even my riding is beginning to suffer.”
She looked up at him incredulously. “Your riding is suffering because of me? Now I’ve heard everything. I think you’re just a sore loser. I beat you, and you can’t stand it.”
“I don’t like to lose. I’ll grant you that. It won’t happen again.”
“Oh, really?” Ellie stopped brushing and turned to face him. He was standing so close she could smell his cologne. “I hope you get over whatever is ailing you, Clay, before we get to Hickstead. I hope you ride the best you’ve ever ridden. And when I beat you, I don’t want to hear any excuses. I just want to hear congratulations.”
“Congratulations, Ms. Fletcher,” he said, his tone suddenly lighter. “How about letting me buy you dinner by way of celebration?”
Ellie released an exasperated sigh. “I don’t feel like celebrating. Somehow my victory seems hollow.”
