Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Quarter horse, if I’m not mistaken.”
She stepped forward to examine him more closely and could probably tell just by initial examination that he had a muscular neck, pointier ears, and smaller hoofs than the other breed.
“Ah, yes, I see.” When she reached out her hand, he only inched a centimeter closer to snuffle in her direction. When he saw she didn’t have a treat, he pulled back, ever cautious, which seemed to be more temperate than many of the rescues we received, at least at the beginning. Piper, for example, was way more comfortable now.
“He’ll need some time to come around,” I said, hoping Julian wouldn’t grow ever warier. Instead he seemed transfixed, even taking a step forward as if to get a better look.
“Want to feed him an apple?” Dr. Barnes asked Julian, pulling out the tote bag of treats she used with Ainsley for therapy.
He bit his lip as he studied Mercy intently. “I…I’m not sure?” he finally responded.
“Don’t push it if you’re uncertain.” She patted his shoulder. “It’s best to just observe at first if you’re feeling uncomfortable.”
“How did you know?”
“Well”—she smiled—“maybe I’m pretty okay at my job.”
“That you are,” I murmured in response, stroking Rocket’s mane.
She added, “I’ve also been around horses all my life. But not everyone has, and they can seem quite intimidating.”
“Yeah, makes sense,” Julian replied. “But I wouldn’t mind getting better at it. I am here all summer.”
Dr. Barnes and I shared a smile over his shoulder.
“Glad to hear it,” she said.
“If you spend more time around him, he’ll get to know your scent, and that’ll give you a leg up,” I told him.
“Okay, sounds about right.” He rested his elbows on the fence, seeming to relax a bit more.
I offered to walk Dr. Barnes to her car so we could discuss Ainsley’s session. Julian stayed near the enclosure after saying goodbye. I looked back once and saw how intently he was watching the horses, as if trying to understand them.
There was a vulnerability in Julian he wasn’t trying to disguise, and fuck, that was appealing. He’d been pretty open from the start, and I hadn’t expected that. It made me want to reach for him. Touch him. Reassure him. And more. So much more. And that right there was the crux of the problem.
Later that night, after Sienna and Ainsley had gone to bed, we cracked open a couple of beers on the porch together. It wasn’t like that night when he’d had the nightmare and I’d offered him comfort, and yet it was the same sort of crackling tension times infinity.
We had no business even sitting that closely together, but neither of us attempted to pull away. We swung and talked about everything and nothing at all, like two old friends catching up. And also like new friends, discovering little things about each other, like the fact that we both waffled on college beyond the first year, not really certain if it was for either of us. Of course, he’d gone on to join the military, and I’d continued with the ranching business.
At one point, Hamlet inserted himself into the scenario by making such a fuss under Julian’s feet that he ended up on the swing as well, snoring away with his head resting on Julian’s lap. But who could blame him? I’d grown just as fond of the man.
In fact, I’d gotten so fucking hard from the steady pressure of Julian’s thigh resting flush against my own that I had to excuse myself and jerk off with a pillow over my head to muffle my groans.
13
Julian
I’d lost track of time and arrived in the kitchen at the tail end of Marta setting out sandwiches and a delicious macaroni salad for us to dig into for lunch. My knee was throbbing today, most likely from the heavy lifting I’d done with the lumber that arrived this morning, so my limp was more pronounced. I tried to play it off as I carefully sank down in my seat, so Marta wouldn’t fuss. But finally sitting down felt bone-achingly good.
George and Marta were the only two left at the table, and given the tractor waiting out front, he must’ve come in from mowing the fields. Marta always took care of everyone else first, so it was no surprise that she waited until the kitchen cleared to make herself some lunch. And even though this was her job, everyone knew it was more than that. She always put her own needs last, like the quintessential matriarch in this makeshift family.
As usual, after catching up on Marta’s mother and George’s wife—both of whom I’d gotten to know just from how fondly they spoke of them—Marta asked me about my mom and sister. Caitlin had been too busy to text between work and wedding plans, but Marta seemed to love hearing about the latter, so I gave her the latest update on her dress and any other information I’d gotten my hands on for her sake.