“I’m more than capable of saddling a horse, Rawley. I’ll probably need the stirrups adjusted, but you do yours and I’ll do mine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He walked across the aisle, opened a gate, then led a big chestnut out. His coat gleaming from the sun shining through the windows in the roof.
****
Rawley leaned against a weathered post in the barn’s dusty aisle, sunlight slanting through the slats and dancing across the straw underfoot. He watched Skylar move with confident precision as she cinched the girth strap around the horse’s barrel. Fine beads of sweat dotted her brow, and with each deliberate tug she refused help, an image of quiet determination. Then she bent to pet the dogs, their coats gleaming, tails wagging, and raced down the aisle in a flurry of barking and jingling tags.
“They know where they’re going, don’t they?” she asked, smiling as she watched them run.
Rawley smiled, the rough wood of the post creaking beneath him. “They go with me every time.”
“How do you find time to ride?” She folded her arms, watching him.
He shrugged. “If I’m not too late getting home, I’ll take a short ride. Some days I don’t get out at all, so I wait for the weekends.”
Skylar hooked her boot into the stirrup, her fingers curling around the saddle horn. She hauled herself into the seat with ease, settling into the leather saddle’s contours. She turned to him with a grin.
“Could you do that again?” he teased, voice low, making her laugh.
“Just adjust my stirrups, cowboy.”
He stepped forward and set her stirrups just so. Then he laid a hand gently on her knee and looked up at her.
“Okay?”
“Perfect,” she said softly, and held his gaze.
He stepped closer, voice rumbling, “Maybe we don’t need to go riding.”
She shook her head, laughing. “We’re going riding.”
He chuckled, backing away to mount. “Alright.”
“Your horse is beautiful.”
“He’s a good horse.”
“What’s his name?”
“Twizzler,” Rawley said, sliding into his saddle with ease.
She laughed. “Because he’s red, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. We call him Twiz.” He touched his heel to the horse’s side. “Ready?”
“Yep.” She nudged her mount forward; the animal moved with a soft snort.
Rawley muttered under his breath, “You are in a shitload of trouble. You’re way too attracted to her.”
“What?” she asked from behind him.
“Nothing. Talking to myself.” He grinned, posture relaxed.
“This is so pretty, Rawley.”
