Winning Heart. Laura Browning

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СКАЧАТЬ she’d met him, she saw him smile with pleasure. It lit his blue eyes, banishing the shadows always lingering there. It relieved the lines in his face and made him seem the thirty-two years she now knew him to be.

      “Wynter.”

      Impulsively, she stepped over to the rail and wrapped her arms around his neck. She squeezed him and felt strong arms encircle her, the cane still grasped in one hand while he hugged her back.

      “Thank you!” Wynter released him and looked straight into his eyes, laughing. She looked around at everyone, Thomas, Miss Olivia, and back at Nelson. “Thanks to all of you for giving me a chance.” The last couple of words came out in a sob. “I’m sorry,” Wynter apologized, laughing and crying, and then moved back in embarrassment when she realized Nelson’s arms still held her. Heat burned her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said again, ducking her head.

      Nelson startled her by chuckling.

      “You are a treasure, my dear,” Olivia Rutledge said matter-of-factly. “You have no idea how much.”

      The next horse finished with four faults after pulling the top rail on the last fence. Wynter glanced over her shoulder and said, “I need some air. I can’t stand here and watch the rest of this.”

      She walked down the gangway, crowded with horses and grooms, and stepped around the corner for a breath of cool night air. She glanced up as the door to the spectators’ area opened, and Nelson stepped through. He leaned on his cane. As much exercise as she knew he racked up, tonight was too much and it was beginning to show. She started to say so but thought better of it. He was her boss, and she had no right to say anything to him.

      “Did you need me?” she asked.

      He leaned against the cement wall behind him. “No. But like you, I didn’t want to stand there and watch the rest of the jump-off. When you have a good round, it’s like waiting to see yourself go up in flames.”

      Wynter smiled hesitantly. “That’s what I thought.”

      “You did a great job tonight, Wynter, in case I didn’t already tell you.”

      She looked over at him and asked, “What did you mean earlier when you said you would have been my competition last year?”

      He started to answer when Thomas peered around the corner. “Get in here, girl!” he beamed. “You placed second! Get on your horse and take your victory lap!”

      * * * *

      Could a night get any better than this one? Wynter thought as she showered in the hotel room Miss Olivia had booked.

      The older woman was a firm believer in comfort and spared no expense to make sure she found it. After Wynter’s victory lap, she had whisked the girl into her car and told everyone they would see them in a couple of hours.

      Wynter came out of the bathroom with her hair wrapped in a towel twisted on top of her head. Olivia Rutledge had already donned the proverbial little black dress. There was no telling how old it was. The style was timeless, and the quality was without question.

      “Sit here, child, while I work magic on you.” She waved the brush with a flourish.

      Wynter laughed and took a seat. She soon realized Miss Olivia wasn’t kidding. In a matter of minutes, the older woman had brushed out Wynter’s long, damp hair, pinned it up in a neat French twist and applied light makeup. Wynter stared at her reflection in amazement. Still wet, her hair gleamed a sleek, dark auburn, and having it pulled back from her face highlighted delicate cheekbones. Whatever Miss Olivia had done with the makeup she’d applied, Wynter thought her eyes sparkled a deep emerald, framed by her thick lashes.

      “I look so different,” she said wonderingly. “I’ve never worn makeup before.”

      Miss Olivia raised her brows. “Where did your mother hide you?”

      Wynter shrugged. “I never did girly things. I worked. I studied.”

      “You look beautiful.” Olivia smiled in the mirror. “You just have no idea, do you?” She patted Wynter’s shoulder. “Your dress is hanging in the closet along with a bag of lingerie and some shoes.”

      “They aren’t high heels, are they?” Wynter asked while sudden visions of wobbling and falling flat on her face came to mind.

      “No, dear,” Miss Olivia answered chuckling. “Not only am I aware of how challenging heels can be to someone not used to them, but you don’t need them to enhance either your legs or your height. God blessed you.”

      “I used to run cross country in high school.”

      “Instead of dating?”

      Wynter laughed when she stood up. “The students at my high school wouldn’t date me. I’m the trailer trash.”

      She disappeared around the door of the closet, reappearing a few minutes later in the altered dress. It fit like a second skin now, making her a bit self-conscious.

      Olivia Rutledge clapped when Wynter walked back. “You are not trailer trash, Wynter. If you’re ready, we should go.”

      It took only a few moments to get back to the hotel suite where the party was already in full swing. Wynter tried to hang back behind Miss Olivia when they entered, but she would have none of it, taking Wynter by the elbow and keeping her by her side. Heads turned. The whole room paused for an instant before the buzz of conversation continued.

      Wynter relaxed until she realized the rider who won, the one she’d guessed was schooling a green horse, walked to her side.

      “Excellent riding this evening,” he remarked. “Haven’t seen you on the circuit before.” He glanced at Olivia. “Another of your protégées, Miss Olivia?”

      The older woman smiled as if enjoying a secret joke. “Actually, she’s Nelson’s discovery, Chris. Meet Wynter O’Reilly. Wyn, this is Chris Stevenson.”

      The young man glanced over toward the windows, his eyebrows rising. “If she’s Nelson’s discovery, then I won’t detain you. He’s never been much of a party animal, and he seems a bit put-out tonight.”

      When Wynter looked in that direction she saw why. In the corner, not more than ten feet from him were the Southards. Her breath caught, and her newfound confidence plummeted. Years of teasing and taunting had taken their toll, and she felt like the trailer trash they’d always called her.

      “Stop it!” Olivia whispered. “You’re slouching. Put your chin up and walk on over to say hello. Nelson looks like he needs cheering up, and whether you realize it yet or not, you are the cheerleading squad.”

      Wynter smiled at Chris Stevenson before she walked toward Nelson.

      The buzz of the party faded into the background while she studied him. He seemed tired. At that moment, he glanced in her direction, almost as if he had been checking for her arrival. His deep-blue gaze locked on hers. Wynter felt a jolt of heat, as if he had reached out and touched her.

      The room was crowded, and it took some time to reach him. Various people stopped and congratulated her. She thanked them politely, but turned back each time to Nelson’s intense regard. СКАЧАТЬ