Breaking Through (The Breaking Series Book 3) (21 page)

Malcolm walked toward another machine, one far away from me. Good for him, otherwise I would have beat him to a pulp.

However, his words clung to me.
I forgot you and her are practically family now.

It was true. One more reason why I could never, ever act on this infatuation.

Chapter Fifteen

I woke up the next day energized. I didn’t know why, except that last night I had had my first self-defense class, and even though I still wasn’t prepared to take on an attacker, I somehow felt lighter. More confident. And happy. Which was odd since it wasn’t even the weekend yet, just a normal Thursday with a day full of work.

That energy turned into nervousness as I parked my car at Hannah’s ranch in the evening and didn’t see Gui’s car there.

Hm, had I gotten the day or hour wrong? I pulled my phone from my purse and checked the messages. Nope. I was here at the right time. Thursday at 5:30 p.m.

So … where was Gui?

I walked by the stable—not even Jimmy was there—then checked at the arena, and finally came back to my car. I still held my phone and considered calling Gui, to ask him if he was on his way or if he had forgotten.

I chewed my lower lip. I didn’t want to impose, though. If he had forgotten, it was because he had something better to do than play the Good Samaritan. Who was I to blame him? I certainly didn’t understand the appeal of helping me.

Sighing, I opened the door of my car. Better to go home and work on my school project—the one I still had no idea for. At first, I thought about the wedding clothes and during the presentation, I could tell the story of how Hannah and Leo met, but that was too personal. I could avoid mentioning Eric, and what he had done to Hannah and me, but it was still too close. And I didn’t want to associate the wedding with something so horrible.

I slid inside my car.

“Hilary!”

I froze upon hearing my name, just a whisper on the wind. Slowly, I climbed out of my car and looked around, searching for the voice that had called me.

“Here,” it said again, a little clearer, a little closer.

I turned toward the entrance road and gaped.

A beautiful dark brown horse trotted on the road, approaching the parking lot, and Gui was on top of him.

I took several steps back as the horse approached, but Gui pulled on the reins and the horse came to a complete stop twenty yards from me. The fashion designer in me couldn’t help but notice he was wearing dark jeans, black polo shirt, black cowboy boots, and a black and orange baseball cap.

“
Oi
,” Gui said, smiling.

“H-hi,” I managed to say.

“Sorry I’m late. I wanted to surprise you with Pampa, but it seems I miscalculated how long we would take to gallop from our ranch to your sister’s.”

I frowned. “Pampa?”

Gui patted the horse’s neck. “Yeah. This is my horse, Pampa.” He dismounted the animal and, grabbing the reins, took a few steps closer. “Pampa, this is Hilary. Say hi.”

I smiled, amused by the way he talked to the horse, but then Pampa moved his head up and down, as if he was nodding at me, and I gaped.

“Oh my …”

Gui’s smile widened. “See? He’s a good boy.”

“That’s incredible,” I whispered. I took in the rest of the horse. He was tall and strong, with thick thighs and neck, and his dark coat was shiny and lush. The color of his coat darkened near the extremities, giving the impression that his legs were black. “He’s beautiful.”

“Thanks. He was born on our ranch in Brazil five years ago and, when it was time to move, he was the first thing I chose to come with me.”

That was so sweet.

“It still boggles my mind how you guys brought horses from another country.”

“Me too.” Gui turned his baseball cap to the back. “Come with me. Let’s put him in a stall.” He gestured for me to walk with him.

I stood my ground for five seconds, while trying to rein in my fear, but then I took a deep breath and went with him. I kept a safe distance from Gui, and Pampa was on his other side. Besides, I knew Gui could take control of his horse in case he decided to lunge at me. As if horses just lunged at people for no reason.

I shook my head, getting rid of that ridiculous thought. “So, you play polo with him?”

Gui let out a chuckle. “I see you don’t know much about polo, do you?”

I scrunched my nose. “Sorry?”

Gui chuckled some more, then explained as we walked in the stable together. “No, I don’t play with him. In fact, Pampa never played polo. There are certain breeds that are better for polo, and certain requirements, like a certain height range, and Pampa doesn’t fit those. Which is fine by me, because polo ponies don’t last long. On the field, I mean. We have at least two polo ponies for each player when playing because the horses get too tired and they need rest. And polo is a sport that wears them out too fast.” He opened an empty stall and guided Pampa inside. “Polo ponies retire too fast, if they don’t get injured while playing.”

“I see.” I observed as Gui locked the stall and turned on the water system. “So, all of you have horses like Pampa and Minuano, and also the polo ponies?”

“
Sim
. Although, we don’t get too attached to our polo ponies. Don’t get me wrong. We still take good care of them, but they don’t become our friends like this one.” Standing in front of me, he jerked his chin toward his horse.

“Understandable.” At least, it sounded like it. I looked at Gui and found him staring at me with a lopsided grin. “Hm, so, what are we doing today?”

Still sporting that mischievous smile, Gui turned to Belle’s stall. “How about we give the round pen exercise another try?”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “What if I panic again?”

“Do you think there is any reason to panic again?”

I stared at him and realized there was no reason to panic again. Not right now at least. We were alone, and he sometimes looked at me in ways that made my stomach fill with butterflies, though I didn’t think he did it on purpose, but we had been alone several times before. Gui had proved to be a good friend, and I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.

“No,” I said, my voice sure.

He nodded. “Good. Then let’s go.”

***

The perfect Friday night: my PJs, me seated on the floor, my drawing pad on the coffee table in front of me, my pencils and charcoals and accessories spread around me. And the tub of ice cream in the freezer that I would soon devour.

I stared at the drawing pad and nothing came to me. Nothing.

How would I pass this class, present this project, if I couldn’t even come up with an idea? What did they want me to do with a design that has history or a story. The wedding dresses and tuxedos popped in my head again.

And from there, I imagined Gui in a tuxedo. Next, was an image of Gui with his tuxedo riding Pampa. A smile tugged at my lips.

Last evening had been good. Gui had taken Belle to the round pen, and she ran and ran as we settled on the fence and observed her. After a while, she approached us and I touched her with my feet. When she didn’t pull away, I leaned down and brushed my hand over her forehead.

“Now, jump in,” Gui said.

I stared at him, frozen. Until he jumped down and extended his arms to me. I let him help me down, and for a moment, I didn’t know what I was more stunned about. That Gui kept a hand at my waist, or that Belle hadn’t run away and was sniffing me.

I didn’t ride her, I didn’t try to make her feel crowded, but that hour I spent in the round pen just walking around Belle, having her walk around me, and touching her smooth coat every few minutes … that hour had been amazing. Practically magical.

Mindlessly, I had started drawing a horse on my pad. Sure, why not design a clothing line for horses?

I chuckled.

The doorbell rang and I froze.

Slowly, I stood and walked to the door, knowing who it was. I looked down at myself, at my short shorts and my tight tee. Crap, if he kept on showing up like that, I would have to buy new pajamas.

Swallowing my sudden nervousness, I opened the door. My mouth went dry.

Gui stood there—in jeans, a casual T-shirt, and sans baseball hat. In fact, his hair looked a little damp, as if he had just showered. His blue eyes shone and he had a half-grin on his lips.

He held up the ice cream tub he had cradled on his hands. “
Oi
.”

I smiled. “Buying free passage?”

“Sorta.”

I stepped aside and let him in, wondering what the hell he was doing here on a Friday night.

He was already opening the ice cream over the kitchen’s counter by the time I snapped out of it and closed the door.

He looked around the kitchen. “Where are the bowls again?”

“I’ll get them.” I strode into the kitchen and grabbed two ice cream bowls from a cabinet.

He shook his head at me. “No ice cream for me. But I do accept chocolate, if you have it.”

I smiled and reached for the chocolate in the pantry. “What if I didn’t have it?”

“Then I would have to run home and grab some,” he said as he served me what looked like three big scoops of ice cream.

Holy crap, did he think I could eat all that and not worry about gaining weight. I was a girl. Girls tended to gain weight easily. Ugh.

I took the bowl from him before he added a fourth scoop. “Thanks.” I settled back on the floor of the living room, hiding my bare legs under the table.

Gui sat on the couch behind me, just to my side. “That’s … wow, I didn’t know you could draw like that.”

I narrowed my eyes at my drawing. “It’s not that great.” And it wasn’t. I sort of knew a little about art since I had to draw a lot for my class, and this wasn’t close to what art students could do, what real artists could do.

“I can’t even draw stick figures.” He unwrapped the chocolate bar. “To me, this looks perfect.” He tilted his head, taking in my drawing. “I can see the lines and the strand of the coat and the shadows. I would say this horse’s face is perfect.”

“Shut up,” I muttered.

“But … hm, why were you drawing a horse?”

“It wasn’t my intention. I was trying to work on my project for school, but nothing came to me, so I guess my mind went to yesterday evening, to playing with Belle in the round pen, and I just … drew a horse.”

“Not any horse. Belle.”

What …? But he was right. I could see her now, the way the hair on top of her forehead always swept to the left, and the little mark under her right eye. It was Belle. And I hadn’t even noticed it.

“I guess you’re right.”

Gui placed the empty chocolate wrapper on the side table, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, putting his face a mere foot from mine. I gulped.

“So, how is the secret project going?”

I chuckled. “Well, it’s so secret, it wants to remain a mystery even to me.”

One corner of his lips tilted up. “Wow, Hilary Taylor can crack a joke. I’m impressed.”

I swatted his shin and he made a face, pretending it had really hurt. “Shut up, Guilherme Fernandes.” I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t know your middle name. In fact, I don’t think I know many things about you.”

He rested his chin on his hand, and that made his face even closer than mine. Gosh, he was … he was handsome. With those blue eyes and that chiseled jaw and that full mouth—

“What do you want to know?”

“We can start with a middle name,” I said quickly.

“It’s not common to have middle names in Brazil. We have two last names, though. One from our mother’s family and one from our father’s family. So, I’m Guilherme Duarte Fernandes.”

“Duarte is your mother’s and Fernandes is your father’s.”

“Yes, that’s why Leo, Bia, Ri, and Pedro have the same last name, because our fathers are brothers. Their other last name, though, or what you here call middle name, is their mother’s so it’s not the same as mine.”

I nodded. “I get it. It’s odd, but I get it.”

“What else do you want to know?”

“I know you’re twenty-four. You love polo, in fact you live for polo. I also know you like to party. You seem to like exercising since I’ve seen you going to the gym or going running a few times.”

“I can’t say I love exercising, but I’m always glad after, when I know I’ve done it.”

I tapped my chin, thinking. “You seem to be a good friend and your cousins love you, and … I don’t know anything else, I think.”

“Then ask something else.”

I leaned back, my side resting on the couch, and Gui straightened, sitting up so he didn’t have to twist to look at me.

What could I ask him? I wanted it to be a good question.

Staring at the half-grin, I thought and thought until it struck me. “Tell me something you did as a teenager, something that was sort of embarrassing but you don’t regret it.”

He gaped. “What kind of question is that?”