Tacked to Death Read Free

changing into the light yellow polo T-shirt
her team had chosen to wear for the event, she figured she was as
ready as she'd ever be to play the match.
    She spotted Camden as she was leaving
the shop, which wasn't exactly a tack shop in the true sense;
rather, it was like a department store with equine-related
equipment for sale. Her friend had gone over the top, like she did
with everything in her life. The place had hardwood floors and faux
cream and butter yellow paint on the walls, which gave it an almost
marblelike look. The tack was organized by event, announcing the
section with wooden engraved signs: hunter jumper gear here,
dressage over there, western upstairs. Yes, there were two stories
to the place—and the apparel section, which Camden definitely
enjoyed best, was displayed in a large section in the back of the
store. At first Michaela found it ostentatious, but she was proud
of Camden for putting it together. Only five months earlier Camden
could barely bring herself to go out to the horses' stalls. But
since becoming engaged to Dwayne, she'd taken it upon herself to
learn everything she could about horses and the lifestyle. To her
credit, she was doing a good job.
    Still, Michaela pondered on a regular
basis—especially after the way her morning had gone—as to how in
the world had she been roped into this idea with Camden. She
should've known better, even in her buzzed state that night over
margaritas, four months earlier. She really should have known
better when she committed to the two-thousand-square-foot place
that Camden had turned into the Saks Fifth Avenue of tack stores.
Everything from jazzy jeans to highly polished leather saddles,
stationery and art featuring the beautiful animals, to protective
leg wraps for equines was available at Round the Bend, and lately
Michaela found herself hoping that the opening day would be as
lucrative as Camden promised. Having so much cash tied up in
inventory was extremely uncomfortable for her.
    She knew they'd need to turn a profit
quickly, so she'd thrown herself full throttle into helping put the
event together. But the kicker was this charity polo event. Camden
had come up with the idea to get some of the team players to mix it
up with some of the locals. But the prerequisite of being a local
was that you did have to know how to ride; thus, Camden had hit
Michaela and Dwayne up to be involved, and Michaela had turned
around and hit up her childhood friend and veterinarian, Ethan
Slater. Ethan did have an advantage: He'd played a bit of polo in
his younger years. He was playing against her on that jerk
Sterling's team.
    Because she didn't want to make a
complete fool of herself, Michaela had been taking lessons from the
polo team's coach for the past three months. She'd played with the
other members, like Sterling and her coach, Robert Nightingale, but
she still felt like she didn't have a clue as to what in the world
she was doing. What she did know after a few experiences with being
hit by a mallet was that it was definitely a rough sport. At least
she had convinced the polo team and the other riders that, instead
of having a match of polo players against other types of riders,
each team should be evenly mixed. She was afraid some of the macho
cowboy types who had never before swung a mallet in their lives
just might wind up seriously injuring someone in the knee, or
worse, the face.
    She located Camden and told her, "The
Sorvino thing is handled. I've got to get over to the field. Are
you coming?"
    "Yes. Thank you. I owe you."
    "Yes you do."
    Michaela walked outside, breathing in
the faint smells of orange blossom and honeysuckle that hung on
into the Indian summer, even in early November. This was the
desert, and thankfully today it was tolerable—beautiful actually,
reaching only eighty degrees. Rolling hills and peaks surrounded
the valley, hued in golds and a rustic claylike color she found
stunning against the manicured kelly green of the