Victoria Barron strode up the aisle past the empty stalls, inhaling the woody scent of fresh shavings combined with the distinct essence of horse. She stole a glance over her shoulder in time to see the smoke-colored limo pull past the door at the end of the barn. It would be back in two hours.

Torie bit her lip. Just once she wished she could walk home instead of being carted around in the “family car”. Or, heaven forbid, have a bicycle she could ride back and forth.

At least the limo didn’t wait outside the barn for her anymore. When she first started riding at Carter Hill Stables, the driver had been instructed to stay until her riding session finished.

She slowed her pace as she reached the office at the opposite end of the barn. The pale wall gave way to a picture window, which looked into the lounge.

She peeked inside before proceeding.

Gabriella Marino sat on the couch, her leg stretched across Alex Carmichael’s lap. Heat coiled up from Torie’s heart and crept stealthily into her cheeks. She could only imagine how red her face had become, and she touched a cheek, feeling the warmth that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Ducking back, she leaned against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut.

She fought to keep her breathing normal. How she longed to be in Gabriella’s place, so casually touching Alex. There’d been many times she let her imagination run wild, and she could see Alex treating her like that—gazing into her eyes as if she were the only girl in the world.

What a fantasy. And what a joke.

With a gulp of air, she shook off the jittery sensation pulsating in her hands, pushed away from the wall, and walked into the office.

“Good morning,” she greeted lightly.

Gabriella rose to her feet first. Although the look in her cinnamon-colored eyes gave away only minimal guilt, she acted as if she and Alex hadn’t been caught in a compromising position.

Torie couldn’t look at Alex as he unfolded himself from the worn tweed couch. She knew if she did, her knees would turn to jelly and she’d blush so hard she’d never be able to disguise her discomfort. She kept her eyes pinned on Gabriella, lifted her chin just a little and smiled, pretending Alex wasn’t even there.

“So, are we trail riding or jumping?” Torie asked with forced confidence.

Gabriella tilted her head.

“Honey, it’s too nice to be stuck in the ring. Let’s get out for a while. Alex, will you tack up Casey for me?”

Torie watched Gabriella closely. She didn’t know why the girl attempted to hide her feelings for Alex. Though Gabriella could turn on the “boss’s daughter” role at the drop of a hat, Torie didn’t think there was anyone who didn’t know what went on between the two. Well, except for Gabriella’s parents. If they knew, it’d be curtains for Alex.

No one messed with Frank Marino’s daughter. Certainly not a boy from “the cottages” who mucked stalls for a living.

Torie snuck a look at Alex. His eyes were pinned on Gabriella anyway. Torie could’ve danced naked in front of him and he wouldn’t know it. Not when Gabriella was in the room.

He was the most handsome boy she’d ever seen—tall with broad shoulders, dark curling hair and eyes that danced somewhere between green and brown. Though only a year or so older than she, he looked so mature, so much more serious than a boy should be.

As serious as Torie. At sixteen, life hadn’t offered her much to laugh over. She thought of the limo that would return to the barn in two hours. Whoever said money couldn’t buy happiness knew what they were talking about.

Alex walked past her without a word, without so much as a glance. She noted his clenched jaw, though, and how his eyes narrowed just slightly.

She sighed inwardly. Gabriella gave her a wink and followed him, leaving Torie to take up the rear.

“Sharon,” Alex called, as he passed the tack room, “get Lucky saddled up. Don’t want to keep Miss Barron waiting.”

“Aye, aye,” returned an overly cheerful voice. A petite brunette walked out of the room. Torie saw the sparkle in her brown eyes, but Sharon Porter ignored Torie just as thoroughly as Alex had.

Torie bit her bottom lip and clenched her fists at her side. Maybe the words seemed innocent enough, but she was bright enough to pick up on the catty undertones. She’d told Gabriella she didn’t want to be called Miss Barron, but the stable help continued to use the formal moniker. It dug at her, and only served to further separate her from everyone at Carter Hill Stables.

“I can take care of my horse myself,” she growled, addressing Alex for the first time. He’d stopped at the stall that housed Gabriella’s horse, and turned to face Torie.

“I’m afraid you can’t. We’re under orders to treat you like royalty. You don’t have to lift a finger.” The edge of sarcasm in his voice was so subtle she wondered if it were her own imagination.

Heat dashed back to her face. Royalty? She looked at Gabriella for some kind of explanation.

“It’s true. My dad wants you well taken care of,” Gabriella offered with a shrug. “You must be used to it by now.”

Torie turned her attention to Sharon, who led Lucky out of his stall further down the aisle. She sighed and shook her head.

“Fine, whatever,” she muttered and leaned against the wall.

Gabriella laughed lightly. “Victoria, I’d kill for the star treatment. I’d be sucking it up if I were you.”

Torie glanced at the closest thing to a friend she had in Harwich, New Hampshire. Dressed in denim breeches, old brown Jodhpur boots and a close-fitting red tee, Gabriella oozed confidence. If their roles had been reversed, if Gabriella had been the daughter of a multi-millionaire shipping magnate, she’d surely suck up every ounce of the star treatment Torie worked hard to avoid. Surely she’d be comfortable in that life.

Perhaps that had been the only reason Gabriella had attached herself so securely to her. It wasn’t as if they had tons in common, and they certainly never shared any slumber party girl talk. More often than not, she’d felt like an unwanted tag-along.

Torie looked down at her boots, tall, black and shined within an inch of their lives. Her pale gray breeches were brand new. Every two weeks her “old” breeches would disappear and be replaced with new ones. Along with her demure, short-sleeved, black mock turtleneck, Torie could’ve been posing for a high fashion magazine. Her mother made sure she didn’t leave home looking any less than perfect. It set her apart, and Torie hated it.

“It gets a little old sometimes. Especially when I know I can do something myself and I’m not allowed to.” The glare she shot towards Alex was lost on him. He had his back turned to her as he groomed Casey.

Torie pushed away from the wall and stalked down the aisle to where Sharon had clipped the crossties to Lucky’s halter. Sharon looked past Torie. Looked “through” would be a better description. Torie didn’t want to stoop to getting angry with them. At least she was determined not to let her irritation show.

Instead, she greeted Lucky, who stood patiently while Sharon ran a body brush over his back.

“Hey, sweetie,” Torie whispered.

He was a big, beautiful Thoroughbred. Under the barn lights, his chestnut coat glowed a dark auburn. He had a white star on his forehead, a snip on his nose, and one white stocking on his front right leg. Tall, elegant, and the best thing in Torie’s life.

She reached up and combed her fingers through his forelock. The horse pressed into her hand and she obliged him by scratching between his ears.

“Excuse me.” Sharon’s voice sounded terse. She stood by Lucky’s shoulder, bridle in hand.

Torie backed off and let Sharon continue her work. She glanced down to where Alex prepared Casey for their ride. Her curiosity was rewarded by a good view of Gabriella stealing a kiss from him.

Torie’s heart plunged to her belly.