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Chapter Four
The next two days flew by and Ayla gained enough control that Regan let her gallop in short bursts. At the end of the final day, she wrote him a check and asked if she could continue the riding lessons the following week. Regan agreed and watched her witfully as she drove off for her weekend with her friends. Ayla headed up the interstate, her thoughts lingering on Bill Regan, as they always did after a riding lesson. Truthfully, that was where they were most of the time lately. He was nothing like the men she encountered at her usual parties, and of her friends brothers. He was down to earth, quiet, and solid. Real. And gorgeous, she thought with a smile. Packing had filled her with dread, as she selected the properly coordinated outfits, matching jewelry and shoes. Even though it was just two nights, she knew the drill, and what was expected of her. As she folded her blouse, she wondered what Regan would be doing for the weekend. Probably working with the horses, she figured. She was pretty sure that he rarely left the stable area. She drove reluctantly, all too soon pulling into the long circle drive of the country estate, she shut the engine off and sighed. “Here goes nothing,” she muttered, getting out as one of the staff hurried forward to greet her. Allowing one to take over car, another quickly unloaded her luggage to take to her room. “Ayla! Darling!” The Hamilton matriarch, Estelle, hurried forward, and Ayla went through the ritual of air kissing the girls that laughed and giggled around her. From the parlor, she could hear the rumble of male voices. Her bags were swept away upstairs and Ayla drawn into the girly chatter of the latest runway fashions and who was dating whom and who was seeing a married man. *** Late Friday night Ayla was sitting up in bed, carefully eating graham crackers, and trying not to spill crumbs on the one thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. Dinner had been a variety of steamed vegetables and some fancy chicken dish, which of course none of the girls ate much of, instead, pushing around their chicken portions as they discussed the latest in their diet trends. Ayla watched wistfully as the men loaded their plates with chicken and mouthwatering fluffy biscuits. She had packed her own snacks for just such a reason, and had slipped down to the kitchen for a glass of milk. This is going to be a long weekend, she thought. *** Ayla slammed the Civic into park and hopped out, racing into the stable. “Regan! Regan!” she shouted. He appeared in the doorway, his expression alarmed. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. Ayla flung herself at him to hug him and he awkwardly hugged her back, almost thrown off balance from her exuberant greeting. Regan’s jaw dropped when he saw the large black eye she was sporting. “I did it! I did it!” she exclaimed, her blue eyes glowing as she grinned, and Regan noted how beautiful she really was, her cheeks flushed from excitement, even through the swelling and bruising of her eye. “I stayed on the horse, and gave one of those schmucks a run for his money!” Regan grinned at her. “Full gallop?” “Full gallop!” she said proudly. Regan frowned at her black eye. “Then how’d you get this?” he demanded. Her smile faded into a glare. “That damned Richie Urban. Showed off with his whip and waited until I was talking to someone. Slapped my horse and it went nuts, threw me right off. But I stayed on while riding!” she grinned again. Regan smiled at her determination, but it faded quickly as his eyes lingered on the black eye. “Well, I hope you gave him one to match,” he said darkly. She nodded. “I sure did. Gave him two, as a matter of fact,” she said proudly. “And I think my ring cut his face.” “Good,” he smiled. “What’d you put on that shiner?” “Ice,” she shrugged. He shook his head. “Come with me. I’ve got something better.” Curious, Ayla followed him out of the stable, and toward the garage. She was surprised when he led her to the stairs next to the, and then she realized it was his apartment they were going to. Interested, she looked around. Shelves of books, mostly about horses, pictures of horses everywhere, a couple photos of Regan with a dark haired teenager, the nephew, she thought. It was definitely a bachelor pad, she thought with a smile. Manly, sparse, and absolutely lacking a feminine touch. He dug around in the cabinets in the kitchen, but she couldn’t see what he was making. Finally he ran a small fabric package under warm water and turned to her. “Here, put this on it.” She took it from him, her soft fingers brushing against his rough skin. “Ew, it smells awful!” she wrinkled up her nose. “What’s in it?” “Don’t ask,” he smiled as she gingerly held it against her face. “Keep it. If you leave it on through most of the night, it should take the swelling down by morning, maybe some of the color.” “Thank you,” she rewarded him with a bright grin and Regan sorely wished he knew how to talk to women better. “I take it you’ve had a few of these?” Regan grinned. “More than a few.” Ayla lowered the pouch and studied Regan for a minute with her ocean blue eyes. Regan was suddenly very nervous and pondered kissing her. It would be completely inappropriate, she was his student. Technically though, she wasn’t anymore. Ayla made it easy for him. She bit her lower lip for a just a second, stepped up to Regan and pressed her soft lips against his mouth. Taken aback, Regan stepped backwards. Ayla flinched at his reaction. “Ayla-I-” words failed him as she suddenly turned and bolted out of the apartment. “Ayla, wait!” Regan moved to follow her and hit his leg on the trashcan. Swearing, he ran to the door, but she was already halfway across the yard and Dan was on the steps, watching the woman run. “Ayla!” Regan called. “Uncle Bill, I know you can be scary sometimes, but what’d you do to that girl?” Dan grinned. Regan sighed. “What are you doing here?” “Had a couple days off,” Dan shrugged. “I got hungry. Who was the hottie and why was she sporting a black eye?” “I didn’t give it to her,” Regan snapped. Dan raised one eyebrow. “I know that,” Dan headed inside, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Dropping the bag near the couch he headed for the kitchen. “She’s a student. I taught her basic riding last week so she could impress her friends,” Regan leaned against the counter as his nephew rifled through the refrigerator. The summers chopping wood had given the once thin boy a muscled chest that Regan knew the girls adored. Trixie and Honey had remarked on it more than once and Regan had heard plenty about his nephew
being a ladies man. “Giving riding lessons in your apartment, eh?” Dan stood up and grinned suggestively, causing his uncle to turn as red as his hair. “Not like that Danny boy!” he growled. Dan bit into the apple he found and shot his uncle a mischievous grin. “Aw c’mon, Uncle Bill. You could use some-” At he murderous look his uncle gave him, gave Dan shoved a larger bite of apple in his mouth. “Well, I doubt I’ll hear from her ever again, after what just happened,” Regan sighed. “Which was?” Dan removed a bottle of soda from the fridge and popped the top on it. Regan recounted the last few minutes to Dan’s amused and surprised expression. Dan laughed and shook his head. “You’re out of the game, Uncle Bill,” he took another bite, chewed thoughtfully for a minute and swallowed. “You like her?” “Well, yeah. I guess,” Regan rubbed the back of his neck. Dan rolled his eyes. “You guess?” “Well, I mean, she’s funny. Grounded. We spent a lot of time together last week and she’s not like some of those rich girls. She’s really smart and we laugh a lot.” “Not to mention she’s totally hot,” Dan grinned. Regan turned red again. “Yes, she’s very attractive.” Dan snorted. “All right, since you seem totally hopeless here, let me help you out.” “Dan the One Night Stand’s advice for the lovelorn?” Regan asked, eyebrow raised. Dan laughed. “You’ve been talking to Mart.” “He might have mentioned something about it,” Regan grinned back. His nephew chuckled. “Look, you’ve been out of the game so long I don’t think even you know.” Regan glared at him, “So listen up. You know where she lives?” “No. Wait-I think it’s on her check. I haven’t deposited it yet.” “Then make yourself look nice, take some flowers- pink roses are good, and go see her. Apologize for being a dolt, and charm her pants off. Literally or figuratively,” he laughed. Regan rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong with I’m wearing?” Dan snorted his Coke and choked. When he had regained his breath he shook his head. “Uncle Bill, you’re wearing plaid. You can’t wear plaid when you go to impress a chick. Don’t you have any of those sweaters the girls gave you for Christmas?” “You mean the pale blue one with bunnies that Trixie gave me?” Regan grimaced. “I gave it to Goodwill.” Dan laughed. “No, the green one that Honey gave you. Take a shower, wear the sweater, and go talk to her.” “I can’t believe I’m taking advice from my nephew,” Regan sighed. Dan grinned. “Hey, gotta learn from the best!” *** “Regan’s where?” Trixie almost dropped the bowl of au gratin potatoes she was handing to Honey. The cozy kitchen at Crabapple Farm was busy with the three Bob-Whites joining the Beldens for dinner. “Attempting to score a date with a hot blonde,” Dan replied, handing the corn to Bobby. “I think it’s sweet.” Honey smiled at her friends. “Regan’s never really had much female companionship that we knew of.” “You can’t blame him for not telling you.” Helen Belden laughed. “Trixie would have ferreted out the poor woman’s history to childhood to see if she was good enough for Regan!” “Well, you know our track record with imposters,” Trixie said with a grin. “Gotta look out for our own.” Helen just smiled. “Moms, are you hinting at Regan having a girlfriend at some point?” Trixie asked suspiciously. “On occasion, Bill Regan has been known to be seen with a female in public. And that’s all I’m going to say,” she said firmly. The three Bob Whites grinned at each other across the table. “Uncle Bill needs to get la-fun,” Dan amended hastily, as Trixie kicked him under the table and Helen gave him a dirty look and looked at Bobby. “He needs some fun.” “What’s lafun?” Bobby asked. “Sounds French.” “You got it,” Dan said cheerfully. “The French just add ‘la’ to everything. La potatoes, please,” he winked at Trixie, who rolled her eyes. “That sounds like a Mart explanation,” Bobby said thoughtfully, the thirteen year old’s blue eyes on his plate as he helped himself to peas. “Which means it’s probably not true.” Dan choked on his milk as the table laughed. *** Regan parked his truck and looked around. His old truck looked very much out of place in the swanky neighborhood. He had had to call Dan about the White Plains address. Dan made a low whistle. “Uptown, Uncle Bill,” he said cheerfully, “so make sure you comb your hair.” The lobby of the apartment complex looked like a hotel, he thought uncomfortably. With the elevators behind glass doors and a doorman, it could have been one of the places the Wheelers went on vacation. Feeling very self-conscious, he stepped over to the desk. “Uh, I’m here to see Ayla Martin,” he said awkwardly. “Name?” the attendant asked, bored. He was young and slender, dark hair and eyes and his red and black uniform didn’t quite fit him properly. “Regan,” he answered automatically. “Uh, Bill Regan.” The thin young man eyed him suspiciously, picked up the phone and waited a moment. “There’s a Bill Regan here to see you, ma’am . . .yes ma’am.” He hung up. Looking up at Regan he was a degree or two warmer as he pointed toward the glass doors. “Apartment 4B.” “Thanks,” Regan strode toward the doorman, who quickly opened the glass doors for him. Regan thanked him and waited for the elevator nervously, glancing around the marble and chrome foyer. Even in his green sweater, which he knew would be expensive since Honey had given it to him, his nicest jeans, and his uncomfortable dress shoes, he felt out of place. The elevator beeped and slid open. Stepping up into it, he swallowed nervously as the elevator lifted and his stomach dropped. He had never liked small spaces, especially elevators. One of the nuns that ran the orphanage he had grown up in took particular delight in punishing them by shoving the children in a closet. While the dark didn’t bother him, not being able to move freely had disturbed him to the point where even now, he occasionally had a nightmare about it. The elevator stopped and opened, and taking a deep breath, he stepped out. He walked down the hall and stopped outside 4B and ran his hand through his hair before he knocked. For a brief moment he thought she wouldn’t answer, then there were several clicks as she undid the locks. The door opened a crack and one pretty, ocean colored eye peered out at him, and then the door opened all the way. “Hi,” he said awkwardly. Ayla leaned against the door frame, blue eyes studying him. Her long blond hair was down, cascading over her shoulders in golden waves, and her eyes seemed bluer in contrast to the thin, dark silk pajamas she wore. The upper right side of her face was a myriad of colors and swelling, but her eye was still visible. It looked slightly worse than it had a couple of hours ago, he thought. “Hi,” she answered. Unsure what to say, he shoved the flowers towards her. “These, uh, are for you,” he managed. Surprised, she took them. “Thank you. Come in,” she stepped back and allowed him entry. What the hell was he doing here? She wondered.
Author’s Notes
-a huge thank you to my editors, Robin and Kate! Any mistakes are mine.
-Word Count – 2,428
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