Winter Circuit (The Show Circuit -- Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

time he’d abruptly cut me out of his life when he’d thought I had posted online about our relationship and sex life but that seemed understandable.
    “Why are you picking a fight?” he said.
    “I’m not,” I said, even though I knew I was.
    “I haven’t seen her. I’ve texted with her. And no, I don’t have feelings for her.”
    Chris’s hands looked tight on the steering wheel and he was going pretty fast on what was a small two-lane highway. Part of me hated myself for annoying him. Was I trying to ruin this trip? But I couldn’t stop thinking about the flirtatious nature of her texts.
    We drove the rest of the way in near silence. There was no traffic and soon we were driving through historic Concord, passing stately colonials bearing historical society plaques, on the way out further to Littleton.
    “I’m sorry I said anything about Mary Beth,” I told him as the GPS told us the destination would be ahead on our right. I wanted to get back on good terms before we arrived at the farm.
    “Okay,” he said, but he didn’t look convinced.
    I put my hand on his arm. “I shouldn’t have. I just miss you, that’s all. Don’t let what I said ruin this trip.”
    We turned up the long driveway passing a few pastures and a fenced outdoor ring covered in snow. Chris angled into a spot in front of the barn. He started to get out of the car and I followed him, quickly putting on my jacket. He zipped up his jacket and we went inside the barn.
    Oh, the smells. If the car smelled deliciously horsey, I could have eaten the barn up in one big bite. The sweet hay. The musty horse blankets. The sooty footing in the indoor arena, which was attached to the barn. I missed all the smells of the barn, not to mention the horses themselves. One had its head over the stall door and I went and played with him, while Chris talked to Ginny, the trainer who had arranged the clinic. His nameplate read MILO . He was a chestnut and he was friendly, playfully poking me with his nose and breathing on me. His breath was hot and grassy, I guess from hay since the pastures were blanketed in snow except for small patches where brown grass poked through. His muzzle was unclipped with long spiny whiskers unheard of for any of Chris’s horses.
    “You are cute,” I told him, missing Logan terribly. I’d heard people talk about the delicious smell of babies but babies had nothing on horses. Horses were the most beautifully smelling animals on the planet and if you didn’t believe that, then you weren’t a horse person. Even the manure in the barn smelled good to me.
    Chris and Ginny—a solid woman in her fifties—came into the aisle.
    “Making friends?” Chris said. He had either moved past our tiff in the car, or wanted to act like he had in front of Ginny.
    “He’s really sweet,” I said. “Makes me miss Logan.”
    Chris introduced me to Ginny. I knew her from some of the Massachusetts shows I’d gone to with my old trainer, Jamie. She ran a solid program but mostly stuck with the A shows in the area, not venturing much beyond Connecticut. I think she did a week or two at Vermont each summer, but that was Maple Valley’s one big show of the year. If riders who trained with Ginny got really good and wanted more, they usually left for other barns. She gave them good basics and foundations, but for whatever reason wasn’t interested in the life you had to live in order to have students who were competitive at the biggest shows.
    I was sure Ginny had no idea who I was. Chris introduced me as his girlfriend. “She goes to Tufts,” he said.
    “Oh, do you ride for the team?” Ginny asked. “One of my students is on the Tufts team, Jenna Ramsey?”
    “I’m not riding this semester,” I said. It wasn’t much of an explanation but I left it at that. And why wasn’t I riding on the Tufts’ IHSA team? Maybe I wouldn’t be so miserable and friendless if I were going out to a local barn once a week for a lesson, and competing at