Taking The Reins (The Rosewoods Book 1) by Katrina Abbott Page A

sure you take a hot bath tonight.”
    For some reason, that made me blush again. “I will,” I said, returning to Charlie as he left.
    But I couldn’t help myself; I turned my head to watch Brady walk away. And as I did, my heart lurched when I realized he’d also turned, to look at me.

Preparations
    T he five days that followed Sunday’s dressage practice passed in a blur of exhaustion such as I’d never known before. I was in a constant state of physical agony as I continually punished my body: in the morning at the laundry, hefting sheets and towels in bundles that outweighed me, and then in the evening at the private practices in the arena with Brady. The only respite was during classes, where I fought to stay awake and keep out of trouble. Thankfully, English and French were a breeze, so I only really had to worry about science and then literally not falling over in P.E.
    By the time I got to Friday, all I wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for a week, but that wasn’t on Emmie’s agenda.
    “You’re going to the dance,” she declared that afternoon in our room after last period.
    My laying face down on my bed should have been her tip off that I had other plans for the evening. “No,” I muttered into my pillow. “I’m dead. Leave me to decompose in peace.”
    She was having no part of it. “You have twenty minutes to nap, then we’re going to dinner. Then back here to get ready.”
    “No dinner,” I moaned, too tired to care about food.
    She exhaled. “Fine. But when I get back, you’re getting ready for the dance. You don’t want to miss your opportunity to see your guy, do you?”
    I didn’t. Not that Will was my guy , but still...
    “Come on, Brooklyn, Brady’s going to be waiting for you. You can’t disappoint him by being a no-show.”
    Brady , not Will. I wasn’t surprised that Emmie would mention my coach. I’d downplayed the Will thing, since the further I got from that first day, the more I realized it had probably been nothing. If he’d been flirting at all, it was just to be friendly.  And even if it had been real interest, I kept telling myself that a few minutes of joking around wasn’t the real thing. I was not a believer in instalove. So said the rational part of my brain. Although when I closed my eyes, I could still see that smirk and his ocean-blue eyes looking back at me.
    Get over it, Brooklyn , I told myself. At least three times a day.
    The Brady thing, though, well, that had gotten a bit weird. When we were in the arena, he was all business: Coach Fleming. But back in the barn? He was all Brady; flirty Brady who was starting to make my insides tremble when he got close and his voice dropped to that low murmur he used when it was just us.
    Emmie knew I had been with him every night and figured something was going on besides the hard-core training. I’d assured her nothing had happened, but she’d waved me off and said it was just a matter of time. She was probably right, though it felt weird and sordid—although he was still a high school student, he was technically off limits. All my new friends thought I was nuts. Maybe I was.
    But it was a moot point, for tonight, anyway. Brady had told me he wasn’t going to the dance. I didn’t ask why, but I had a feeling he needed to catch up on some of his own training, since he’d been working with me so much. I felt a bit guilty about that, but he kept promising me he wasn’t falling behind, so I tried to take him at his word.
    “Brooklyn!” Emmie barked.
    Rolling to my side and pulling my comforter over me, I said, “I’ll get up, I promise. I just really need a little rest first.”
    “I’ll be back in one hour,” Emmie said just before I heard the door close softly behind her.
    What felt like no more than one minute later (but was probably closer to the hour, as promised), she was back, waking me up from the sleep of the dead.
    “Brooklyn!” she said, plunking down on my bed. “Get up. It’s time to