Winning Heart. Laura Browning

In a matter of minutes, the older woman had brushed out Wynter’s long, damp hair, pinned it up in a neat French twist and applied light makeup. Wynter stared at her reflection in amazement. Still wet, her hair gleamed a sleek, dark auburn, and having it pulled back from her face highlighted delicate cheekbones. Whatever Miss Olivia had done with the makeup she’d applied, Wynter thought her eyes sparkled a deep emerald, framed by her thick lashes.

      “I look so different,” she said wonderingly. “I’ve never worn makeup before.”

      Miss Olivia raised her brows. “Where did your mother hide you?”

      Wynter shrugged. “I never did girly things. I worked. I studied.”

      “You look beautiful.” Olivia smiled in the mirror. “You just have no idea, do you?” She patted Wynter’s shoulder. “Your dress is hanging in the closet along with a bag of lingerie and some shoes.”

      “They aren’t high heels, are they?” Wynter asked while sudden visions of wobbling and falling flat on her face came to mind.

      “No, dear,” Miss Olivia answered chuckling. “Not only am I aware of how challenging heels can be to someone not used to them, but you don’t need them to enhance either your legs or your height. God blessed you.”

      “I used to run cross country in high school.”

      “Instead of dating?”

      Wynter laughed when she stood up. “The students at my high school wouldn’t date me. I’m the trailer trash.”

      She disappeared around the door of the closet, reappearing a few minutes later in the altered dress. It fit like a second skin now, making her a bit self-conscious.

      Olivia Rutledge clapped when Wynter walked back. “You are not trailer trash, Wynter. If you’re ready, we should go.”

      It took only a few moments to get back to the hotel suite where the party was already in full swing. Wynter tried to hang back behind Miss Olivia when they entered, but she would have none of it, taking Wynter by the elbow and keeping her by her side. Heads turned. The whole room paused for an instant before the buzz of conversation continued.

      Wynter relaxed until she realized the rider who won, the one she’d guessed was schooling a green horse, walked to her side.

      “Excellent riding this evening,” he remarked. “Haven’t seen you on the circuit before.” He glanced at Olivia. “Another of your protégées, Miss Olivia?”

      The older woman smiled as if enjoying a secret joke. “Actually, she’s Nelson’s discovery, Chris. Meet Wynter O’Reilly. Wyn, this is Chris Stevenson.”

      The young man glanced over toward the windows, his eyebrows rising. “If she’s Nelson’s discovery, then I won’t detain you. He’s never been much of a party animal, and he seems a bit put-out tonight.”

      When Wynter looked in that direction she saw why. In the corner, not more than ten feet from him were the Southards. Her breath caught, and her newfound confidence plummeted. Years of teasing and taunting had taken their toll, and she felt like the trailer trash they’d always called her.

      “Stop it!” Olivia whispered. “You’re slouching. Put your chin up and walk on over to say hello. Nelson looks like he needs cheering up, and whether you realize it yet or not, you are the cheerleading squad.”

      Wynter smiled at Chris Stevenson before she walked toward Nelson.

      The buzz of the party faded into the background while she studied him. He seemed tired. At that moment, he glanced in her direction, almost as if he had been checking for her arrival. His deep-blue gaze locked on hers. Wynter felt a jolt of heat, as if he had reached out and touched her.

      The room was crowded, and it took some time to reach him. Various people stopped and congratulated her. She thanked them politely, but turned back each time to Nelson’s intense regard. The closer she came, the tenser he looked.

      When she reached him, his right hand gripped the cane until his knuckles turned white. He rotated his left hand palm up. Without thinking about it, Wynter slid hers into his. Again that jolt of heat rose from the pit of her stomach. His gaze searched her face before devouring the rest of her. Part of Wynter wanted to curl up and hide, but then she remembered what Olivia had said and smiled.

      “Do I look okay?” Wynter asked with concern when he continued to look at her without saying a word.

      To her surprise, he smiled lopsidedly. “You’re breathtaking.”

      This time even her ears got hot. “I don’t feel that way,” she confided in a shaky voice. “In fact, I don’t feel much like me at all.”

      “You do to me.” Then Nelson did something that would have seemed out of place had he been anyone else, but it fit him. Lifting her hand, he pressed his lips against the backs of her fingers. “You are the loveliest woman in the room, Wynter O’Reilly. Never forget it.”