And that was it. Nothing more came of the conversation. We stood at the kitchen island, eating our bacon and some raw carrots I pulled out of the refrigerator, a beer in my dad’s hand, and water in my own.
“I’ll take the job,” I finally answered. “Maybe I do have some potential that the Hennickes could help with.”
***
I went out to feed the horses that night with an uneasy stomach. The fact that I was leaving working for my dad to work for my hookup buddy felt low. Plus, working for someone the same age as me with a much higher ranking and status bruised my pride a little bit. We both played intercollegiate polo in college, but he seemed to move up a lot faster than I did. Wealth was funny that way.
The horses whinnied as I emerged from the feed room, balancing four scoops in my arms. Empanada, our beautiful Argentine appendix—a cross between a Quarter Horse and a Thoroughbred—pawed at the floor and shook her head up and down. I gave her a soft pat on the neck after dumping her grain into her bucket, and she snorted. She was my favorite—the fastest on the field and the sweetest in the barn. We’d only had her for about a year, but she was undoubtedly the horse you could do anything with.
“Hey, girl. You like your dinner?” I asked, still rubbing her neck. I ducked under the chain that kept her in her stall and wrapped my arms around her. Per usual, she was much more interested in her food than in me. Her clipped brown fur had the slightest red tint, and her shaved mane was jet black.
Pressing my cheek against her warm coat felt like home. Horses would always be my first love. From when I was a little girl until now, I had always been drawn back to them. I grew up riding with both my parents. My dad taught me how to be fast and fierce on the polo field, and my mom taught me how to jump and love on them. She taught me they could be wild and mistrusting, but they were caring creatures that nurtured the soul. There was something so calming and serene about spending time in the quiet with my horses. Like I was in a dimension of eternal bliss. I felt perfectly at peace.
That was, until my phone rang. I didn’t bother looking at the caller ID before answering.
“So I heard you’re working for me now.” It was a deep, cocky voice that I could only match to one person. I scoffed at the gloating in his tone.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m busy right now.”
“Oh, come on, Maggie. You sure you didn’t have ulterior motives for taking your dad up on his offer?”
God, this man could name a country after himself and feel no shame.
“Please,” I scoffed. “That particular detail was a deterrent.”
“Mkay. Whatever you say.” I stayed silent for a moment, questioning if this was the stupidest decision of my entire life. “So, what, are you starting tomorrow?”
“I think we need to establish some rules if I am going to work for you, Jack.”
I wasn’t going to use this job as a way to sleep with him. No way. I had standards, and sleeping with my boss was not on my bucket list.
“Rules…” Jack dragged out the word. “Okay, shoot.”
“First of all, no funny business while we’re working. This is going to be strictly professional.” I kept my tone stern, but he just laughed on the other end of the line.
“Wow, Maggie. That’s a good one. Did you forget what we did in my truck today?” My face turned red. Before today, we never bantered like this. This was not the same Jack from a few years ago.
“Okay, no. I didn’t forget.” He snickered softly through the speaker. “But that’s not happening again if I am going to work for you.”
This could be a pretty solid plan for now. I wouldn’t let this turn into a permanent thing by any means. Jack was not the type of person to do anything long-term. I would work for him for a little while, take advantage of any opportunities he or his father offered to play their horses in tournaments, and try to score a wealthy patron to sponsor me for the winter polo season in Wellington.
“So, you want to wait until after the workday to do our thing?”
“No, Jack. I’m not working for you if those are your intentions.”
“Why?” His tone told me too much.
“I need to know if you can actually be professional before I decide to work for you. Consider it a trial run. One week.”
“Oh, please, Maggie. You think I can’t be professional? I’ll have you know, I have a reputation to uphold for myself.” His tone was slightly defensive, but I wouldn’t let him out of this. I wouldnottake a job being his sidepiece.
“Whatever. One week. Then we’ll see if we can work together.”
“Fine. Deal,” he answered, the smirk in his voice still there.
“Deal.”
Chapter two
