Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
“Hello,” I replied, feeling more awkward than I had ever been. Thatcher walked back to me with a glass that I was tempted to throw back and ask for a second. I took it and whispered a thank you before placing it to my lips to sip when I wanted to gulp.
“The new practice jockey is working out, it seems,” Stellan said. “What do you think of him, Capri?”
I swallowed my drink then met his pointed look. “Rog is doing great.”
“Don’t have her praise him, Dad. We’ll be stitching him up and looking for a new one before the night is over,” Sebastian said.
I glanced up at Thatcher, who was, in return, watching me.
“I’ve no reason to hurt, Rog, do I, Little doll?” he asked me with that familiar sinister twinkle in his eyes.
“No,” I replied immediately. “Not at all.”
“That’s a relief for us all,” Sebastian replied, the teasing tone in his voice and a tug at the corner of Thatcher’s mouth eased me. They were making jokes. That was all.
“Let’s not talk about unpleasant things,” Mandilyn stood then. “Shall we head to the dining room?” She strode past, giving Thatcher and me a wide berth as if getting too close was dangerous or untasteful. This was the oddest relationship between a mother and her child I’d ever seen.
“Seems the queen has spoken,” Stellan replied, pointing to her retreating form with the glass he was holding. Sebastian and Royal stood and followed. I started to do the same when Thatcher’s hand rested on my back.
He was so blasé about his mother’s standoffish treatment of him. Sure, I’d seen it at Maeme’s on Sundays, but I thought it was just the crowd and all the talking. They were never in the same conversations, so it hadn’t stood out the way it was doing now.
I inched closer to him, needing him to feel wanted, even if he didn’t seem affected by his mother’s treatment. The dining room was fancier than Maeme’s, and shockingly, the table was longer. I couldn’t imagine anyone needing one this long, but here it was. Sebastian led Royal to the other side, and Thatcher pulled out a chair across from Sebastian for me to take. Then, I took the seat opposite Royal. They seemed to know the assigned seating, if that was what this was.
Stellan took the seat on the end closest to us, and Mandilyn sat right beside him and Sebastian. She gave her younger son a loving smile, clearly pleased that he was here and to be close to him. Thatcher was sitting relaxed in his chair, drinking from his glass and studying me. When I realized it, I felt my cheeks warm. His hand slid over to rest on my thigh, where he brushed his thumb back and forth over the skin it touched.
That small connection managed to ease me, and I listened as Stellan spoke about a race that Hughes Farm was entering a horse in next weekend. He and Mandilyn were going. She then turned her head to Sebastian and suggested he and Royal go too. Again, not once acknowledging her oldest son. This was beginning to piss me off. I didn’t care that Thatcher was unaffected by it.
Stellan ignored his wife’s invitation and turned to Thatcher. “Levi mentioned that Garrett was considering selling one of Khan’s colts. You need to follow up with that. Go see it.”
A server placed a creamy soup in front of me, then Thatcher, while another did the same to Stellan and Mandilyn. Lastly, Sebastian and Royal were served. Thatcher lifted his spoon before responding to his father.
“What month is it?”
“February,” Stellan replied.
“Is it worth the price it will bring?” Thatcher asked, taking a spoonful of the creamy mixture to his mouth.
“It’s a winter colt of Khan’s. Levi said he’s stunning.”
Thatcher glanced over at me, and I took my spoon, realizing I had been listening to them and not eating. “It’s mushroom, you’ll like it,” he assured me.
I heard Mandilyn whispering to Sebastian but tried to ignore it while Stellan talked about the colt with Thatcher. They moved from that topic to Teller being trained to handle betting. Stellan said he was good with numbers. Mandilyn asked about Royal’s grandmother and then suggested she come to Easter lunch next month. The conversations moved around, as did the food. Every time something new was brought out, Thatcher told me what it was. His hand remained on my thigh absently, stroking the same spot while speaking with his father and Sebastian.
Never his mother.
Royal engaged me, asking about how long I’d been riding and how I got started; when I mentioned the rodeo, she was even more intrigued. Once the dessert was finished Stellan stood and suggested the ladies go to the sunroom for champagne while he took the boys to show them the footage of a racehorse that he was interested in from stables in Tennessee. I wanted to go with the men to see the race very much, but I hadn’t been included, so I went with Royal as she followed Mandilyn from the room.