“Are you forgetting who put me in the position to choose?”
“You were the one who bought him. Now you’re going to see what it cost you.”
A.J.’s anger swelled, masking how much it still hurt that her father had given Peter the stables. Her voice became sharp. “That stallion cost me thirty grand and the dubious pleasure of seeing you every night over dinner. All things considered, he’d have been a bargain at half a million.”
Her stepbrother’s face flushed an ugly red. “You didn’t exactly leave us heartbroken, either.”
Time to go, A.J. told herself, noting the argument was taking on more of an edge than usual. The last thing she wanted was to stage a fight with Peter out in the open at her father’s birthday gala.
“Much as I’d like to continue this,” she said, “I’m going to say good night and good luck.”
“Winning teams don’t need luck,” he said heatedly.
“When you find one, let me know.”
“You’re looking at the partnership that is going to revolutionize this sport. And you’re getting left behind with that crazy load of dog meat. Your career is over.”
Emotions running high, A.J. lashed out. “Just because you recruited the only other Froot Loop in the business with taste in clothes as bad as your own doesn’t mean you’re a lock for success. You need more than a stunning lack of fashion sense and a blind tailor to win in the ring.”
Peter lunged at her, catching everyone by surprise.
In the nick of time, Devlin stepped forward to protect her, blocking the way.
“Back off, Conrad,” he said darkly.
All around them, people were turning curious eyes toward the scuffle, eager for more drama to unfold.
A.J. was shocked by Peter’s outburst. They’d always argued but he’d never lost control like that before. Hearing his labored breaths, feeling her own heart pounding in her chest, she found herself truly regretting their relationship. Why did things always end up badly between them?
Tangled in her own thoughts, she watched mutely as Peter stepped away from Devlin. Her stepbrother tugged his tuxedo jacket in place with hands that shook.
With the situation defused, Marceau took the opportunity to insert himself gallantly in front of his new partner. “Do not arch to her level.”
“That’s stoop to my level,” A.J. corrected absently.
Devlin took her elbow. “I think we should go.”
“Yes, do remove her,” Philippe said. “With your leg, I imagine babysitting is all that you are good for now.”
Emotion surged again and a stinging retort came to the tip of A.J.’s tongue. But, instead of going with her instinct, she cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. “Good night, Philippe. Peter.”
Her stepbrother’s voice was bitter. “You’re going to regret this.”
“You know something, I think you’re right,” she replied. “In fact, I think I’m beginning to feel sorry for us.”
Peter looked at her with utter confusion before she and Devlin left for the foyer.
When they got to the front door, they paused.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she said. “Again.”
“There’s a lot of anger between the two of you.”
“Yes. But it’s high time to change that. I just wish I knew how.”
As much as Peter could be a source of intense frustration, she didn’t hate him and knew he wasn’t truly evil. She also was beginning to see her own role in their dysfunction. If she took a moment to think about it, what she was really upset about were the unresolved issues between her and Devlin and the amount of time her injury had cost her training. The announcement about Marceau, and Peter’s jabs, had given her something to react to and had unleashed her anxieties. Add to all that the fact Peter knew how to play her well, and ka-boom.
“I don’t like arguing with him. I really don’t,” she said softly.
Aware she’d been silent for a long time, she looked up into Devlin’s eyes and forgot about Peter and her family and her concern over the lost training. Everything else drifted away.
“Is this good night?” she asked him.
“Only if that’s what you want. I came here to talk with you.”
A couple walked by and peered over curiously.
“Why don’t I walk you to your car?” she asked.
He smiled. “Isn’t that a man’s job?”
“In this neighborhood, you never know what’ll happen after dark. You might get accosted by a bond trader or some rabid media mogul.”
“Better than some twenty-year-old Internet guru who’s hit the skids,” he said, opening the front door.
As they stepped free of the house, they were greeted by the crisp night air. The noise of the party faded away, and her ears rang in the silence.
Before anything could be said, they were approached by one of the uniformed parking attendants who’d been hired for the night. The boy must have been in his late teens and he was wearing a black blazer that was too big for him and a pair of running shoes. Shrugging, Devlin handed over his ticket and the kid went sprinting off down the driveway, out of sight.
“As far as privacy goes, I guess this didn’t make a lot of sense,” A.J. whispered. “I forgot about the valets.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the lineup of young men loitering around.
“We can drive around the block and park,” he suggested.
“Like two kids hiding from their parents?” A.J. giggled, partially because she found the idea funny, mostly because she felt anxious about what he would say when they were alone.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed hearing your laugh.”
Her breath caught. She saw his hand rise up and nearly touch her elbow, but then he hesitated.
“I came tonight to ask for forgiveness,” he told her quietly. “To apologize. And to ask you to come home.”
A.J. flushed with happiness and was sorely tempted to throw her arms around him and tell him that was exactly what she’d hoped he’d say. But she needed more from him. She was far too in love to be able to risk going back to the farmhouse without a clear understanding of where things stood between them.
The fleet-footed attendant returned without a vehicle. The kid looked worried. “Excuse me, sir. I can’t find your car.”
“Maybe because it’s a truck,” Devlin said dryly.
“You mean that thing? With the bed all bent out of shape?”