Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Fred is fine. They’re horses, not kids. I hired someone from Fallbrook to help out at the barn. She’ll be around tomorrow morning, but we’re alone now, so…let’s go.” I clapped, motioning for him to step up. “I’ll hold the lead and walk with you. Ready?”
“As ever.”
The next fifteen minutes were comedy gold. No kidding. Someone should have been filming this reel of unintentionally hysterical bloopers. There was something endearing about a professional athlete good-naturedly trying an activity outside of his comfort zone…and sucking at it.
Denny put his left foot into the stirrup, misjudged the amount of oomph he needed to haul himself onto the saddle, and ended up falling on his ass like a cartoon character.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my smile from spreading. “Want that pillow?”
“Very fucking funny.”
I smacked his butt and squeezed it. “Dust off and try it again.”
He did, and he fell…two more times.
Ten minutes later, he was finally in the saddle.
I cautioned him to use a light grip on the saddle horn and above all, to relax.
Denny scoffed. “This is not relaxing. This is the opposite of relaxing.”
“That’s because you think you’re in control here, and you’re not.”
“Bess is? Well, that’s fucking terrifying.”
“No, smartass. I’m in control. I’ve got the lead,” I reminded him. “Your only job is sit up tall, face forward, and enjoy the scenery. After a while, you’ll get used to the sway and the rhythm of her movement. She’s a sweet girl. She’s sensitive, too. She can feel your tension, but it doesn’t bother her. She’s patient. Stay with her. That’s it.”
I kept up a small dialogue, assuring him that he was in good hands…over and over while we rambled around the paddock. I couldn’t tell if it was him or Bess or the late May sunshine, but I sensed the moment he found his center.
This was what I loved about equine therapy. Helping someone else find peace in movement and a soothing gait. I had immense respect and awe for this majestic animal. Bess was powerful, graceful, and intimidating with it. Moreover, she was incredibly patient.
I wished I were more like her: quietly confident, no heavy thoughts, no worries about the future. She stayed in the moment and reminded me to do the same.
I walked us into the pasture, pointing out a few new discoveries, like the goldfinches, robins, the elms near the creek, the sugar maples at the bottom of the trail leading to Lake Norman. It was…pleasant.
By the time we returned, the sun crested the ridge, sending long shadows across the fields. Perfect for a late picnic. I tied Bess to a post in the yard and went back to the house to make sandwiches. We took a cooler to the table next to the barn and let Fred out to join Bess in the pasture.
Blue skies, chilled wine, turkey sandwiches, and easy conversation with a handsome hunk made for a lovely afternoon. I jabbered about the healing power of horses, the time I fell off one and broke my wrist, my mild obsession with Star Wars, and the certainty that there really was nothing more delicious than warm apple pie with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream. Denny disagreed.
We debated the merits of chocolate versus fruit pie fillings as I cared for the horses, brushing them, feeding them. He could have left then. We’d checked off every item on our to-do list, and he’d been there for hours. He had friends to see and errands to run, but I was selfishly happy he’d stayed.
“Thanks for today,” he murmured eventually.
I smiled, brushing his nose against mine. “Anytime.”
“What’s Bess doing tomorrow?”
“I think she’s free.”
“Cool. Tell her I’ll see her soon.”
I watched him walk to his truck. I felt the ghost of his touch on my lips and the stir of longing for something I couldn’t identify as he pulled away, his taillights disappearing down the long driveway.
A veil of mist settled at the fringe of the forest, blanketing the night in silence. It was never this quiet in Denver…or at the ranch. It was the kind of quiet that forced introspection.
Why was I here? What was I doing?
On the surface, I was doing a job, making some money, biding my time in a tiny town while having amazing sex with a famous, closeted athlete. All good stuff, but the questions were still there.
I didn’t have any answers, but that was okay. We had all summer. Real life could wait.
13
DENNY
Mary-Kate chased after me, her stick poking mine from an awkward angle in a manic attempt to wrestle the puck away. Not gonna happen. I leaned hard to my left and upped my speed, skating toward the goal, my elbow cocked and ready to fly.
“Boom!” I raised my arms in the air triumphantly as the puck breezed into the goal. “Did you see that?”