The Riding Master by Alexandrea Weis Read Free Book Online

first time she had met Foster Greer. “He made me feel…happy. Like I was part of something important, kind of like a family.” She rubbed her hands along the thighs of her jeans. “When my father and sister died, I lost that sense of family.”
    “What about your mother? Is she still alive?”
    Rayne cringed. “Yeah, Estelle is still with me.”
    “You almost look like that is a bad thing.”
    “If you knew my mother, you would understand.” Wanting to gloss over the topic of her mother, she quickly asked, “What about your family?”
    “We’re kind of spread out all over the place.” He shrugged his wide shoulders. “My father passed away a few years ago. He was an analyst for a big insurance company in Dallas. My mother relocated to Florida after he died to be with her sister. I have two younger sisters. They’re both married; one lives in Tennessee, the other in Dallas. We get together around the holidays.”
    She settled her elbows on the table, transfixed by the warmth in his eyes as he spoke of his family. “Any nieces or nephews?”
    “Two nieces and one very spoiled nephew named Cohen. He’s just like my old man, driven as hell. You name it, he becomes perfect at it.”
    “Any of them want to ride horses like their uncle?”
    “My niece, Heather, rode for a while in Tennessee, but then she discovered ballet. Cohen doesn’t like horses. I think he prefers sports that involve hitting or kicking the hell out of your opponent.”
    The alcohol helped to quell Rayne’s jittery nerves. Leaning toward Trent, she fondled her cup of sake. “How did you get into riding?”
    “Summer camp, when I was seven,” he answered, watching her fingers play with her cup. “They took us to this stable outside of Dallas every day to ride horses. I fell in love with it and begged my father for lessons, but he believed it wasn’t manly enough. My mother eventually won him over. The first state championship I won, he finally agreed that it was a tough sport.”
    “When Rebecca first talked about you, I guessed you were gay.”
    “I get that a lot.” His gray eyes flickered with merriment. “But most women eventually figure it out.”
    As his eyes swept over the contours of her face, her feet fidgeted underneath the table and Rayne yearned for another sip of sake to calm her, but then decided against it.
    “How did you get into riding?” Trent inquired.
    “I was—”
    “Here is your salmon and avocado roll,” their bashful server cut in as she stood next to their table, balancing a wide black tray.
    The petite woman set plates, chopsticks, silverware, and dipping bowls of soy sauce and wasabi on their table. Finally, she put a plate of seaweed-wrapped rolls in the center. Then, she lifted the jug of sake. “Would you like more sake?”
    Trent gestured to Rayne. “Do you want more sake?”
    Rayne held up her hand. “No, thank you. But could I have a glass of water?”
    “Of course,” the dark-eyed waitress replied, and then scampered away.
    “Sake not to your liking?” Trent reached for the small bowl of wasabi.
    Rayne split her chopsticks apart. “Just trying to keep my wits about me.”
    “Why? Think I’ll try something later?”
    “No,” she lied, avoiding his leering gaze. “I just don’t like to drink that much.”
    “No, you just don’t like to lose control.” Collecting the plate of rolls from the table, he pushed a few onto her plate with his chopsticks. “I don’t think you like to let anyone see the real you.”
    She stabbed at one of her rolls with her chopsticks. “This is the real me.”
    “No, it’s not.” He scooted two rolls onto his plate. “You keep people at a distance, but I’m hoping I can break you of that habit.”
    “I’m not a horse, Trent. I don’t need to be broken or gentled or anything else.” She dropped the seaweed-covered roll back on her plate, her appetite suddenly usurped by her aggravation.
    “On the contrary,” Trent argued. “People are very