Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“What?” I ask with a grin, slightly amused. “I remember you talking about how early your days started when you did training on our summer breaks.”
Kat is not amused at the reminder of our time together. Instead, she brushes past me to the door. “Yeah… it’s late and we can talk about this stuff some other time.”
I follow her, flipping through my calendar on my phone. “How about Thursday at eleven a.m. at my office in Frankfort?”
When Kat opens the door, I see the rain has stopped. She turns to me, hands on her hips. “That won’t work for me. You see, I actually work very hard at my job, sunup to sundown.”
“As do I,” I point out. “I just happen to wear a suit and you wear grubby clothes, but that doesn’t make you a harder worker or have less time than me.”
She shrugs. “I can meet in the evenings, after eight, since I usually eat dinner with my family.”
“Are you being obstinate just to be obstinate?” I ask, genuinely curious, slightly annoyed and again… a little amused.
Kat snorts and I swear I see her lips twitch in what threatens to break into a smile, but she smothers it. “Like I said, any time after eight p.m.” She then considers something else. “Except tomorrow. Not free at all.”
I nod in understanding. “The Spirits and Saddles Gala?”
It’s a charity event where all the bourbon distilleries in the area—and there are a lot—pair up with the horse industry to raise money. It’s held at the state fairgrounds in Louisville and there are loads of activities throughout the day but most significantly, bourbon-tasting tents and equine demonstrations inside the indoor arena. Typically, the distilleries each pair up with a farm—usually thoroughbred breeders, but there’s a large saddlebred community too—and work together to compete for the most money raised.
She nods. “We’re paired up with Bluegrass Barrel Company.”
“Hmm,” I murmur.
Mardraggon Enterprises is joining with Crescent Meadow, which is the largest horse farm in Kentucky. They breed, train and sell thoroughbreds and have a storied history in the racing community. They’ve produced numerous successful racehorses that sell for millions of dollars.
Obviously, the best bourbon manufacturer got paired with the best horse farm, but I keep that opinion to myself. I’m not in the mood to have the Hell Kat come out and slice me up with that sharp tongue of hers.
“Let me guess,” she drawls, a condescending tone in her voice. “You’re paired with Crescent Meadow.”
“I’m not sure,” I say vaguely, pocketing my phone and pulling out my keys. “Not my bailiwick.”
Which is absolutely true. The bailiwick part, although I do know about Crescent Meadows.
My parents typically handled all the social events that Mardraggon Enterprises was involved in. However, times have changed and no one wants to see Lionel Mardraggon at a fundraising function. The board of directors made it clear I need to be in attendance this year.
“Well, figure a time you can meet in the evening again,” Kat says as she gestures toward the doorway, a nonverbal cue she really wants me to go.
I step over the threshold and as she starts to shut the door, I put my hand on it to halt her. “Can I see Sylvie when I come back?”
Kat’s expression softens slightly. “Yeah… if she’s not busy with something else.”
“How about day after tomorrow? I’ll rearrange my schedule so I can come back, same time.”
“Not before eight,” she reminds me. “I’ve still got work to do and I’ll be doing lessons or training up until at least six. I cut lessons short today to accommodate you but I can’t do that all the time.”
“I’ll come over to the barn then,” I suggest. “Sylvie and I can hang out there under your watchful eye.”
“I’ll be watching the horses,” she replies blandly. “But let me check with Ethan and find out what Sylvie’s schedule is day after tomorrow and I’ll let you know.”
Inclining my head, I hope she hears how grateful I am. No matter what, getting to see Sylvie is paramount. “Thank you. And thanks for dinner too.”
“That won’t happen again,” she asserts with her chin lifted.
Chuckling, I turn away from Kat and trot down the stairs. No, I don’t imagine she will invite me to dine with her anytime soon. Despite the moments of levity tonight and our ability to keep things civil as we discussed business, I don’t ever forget that she hates my guts and will never forgive me for what I did.
CHAPTER 11
Kat
The Kentucky Exposition Center in Louisville sometimes feels like a home away from home. I’ve been competing in Freedom Hall at the World Championship Horse Show since I was five. While there aren’t green shavings in the arena tonight—a hallmark of the world championships—I still get a thrill standing in this building.
The Spirits and Saddles Gala has been around far longer than I have and usually it’s an event my whole family attends. But my parents left for Ireland to visit Mom’s family and Wade is at home nursing a spring head cold. Ethan’s opting for a quiet night with Marcie and Sylvie and he deserves it. I don’t know how the man does it all and I’ve never been more in awe of my brother than I am now. Just trying to do my regular job of lessons and horse training plus the medical oversight I took off his plate is brutal in terms of time consumption. Add on that I’m now trying to learn about Sylvie’s winery and the number of hours I can sleep are dwindling.