“She’ll be okay in the corral for a few minutes.” I focus on her small hand in mine. She doesn’t pull away, and her touch feels good. “You can’t be on a ranch and not have ever ridden a horse before.”
“What?”
“We’re going to fix that.”
“You’re serious?” Her light laughter washes over me.
“Deadly.” I glance over her. “You want the full story, don’t you?”
She nods.
“How can you write about horses if you’ve never ridden one?”
It’s not exactly the question I want to ask, but it’s the only appropriate one.
We reach the barn. I release her hand to push open the door. Kali hesitates, biting her lip between her teeth. “I’m not sure I’m really dressed?—”
“I’ll find you a flannel,” I interrupt, already reaching for a saddle. “You’ll be okay.”
When I look up again, she’s still standing there, watching me. That same spark of something passes between us again. Curiosity? Attraction? Maybe both.
But for the first time since she showed up, I stop fighting it.
Kalli
The horse is bigger than I expected.
Much bigger than the mare out in the corral.
I look up at the horse and then back to Cash. “Are you…how am I supposed to…he’s so big.”
Cash’s easy chuckle hits me low in the gut. “Easy,” he says, stretching a hand out to me. “Put your foot in the stirrup here.”
I hesitate. “And then what?”
“And then...” He huffs out another laugh, low and soft. “You swing your leg up and over him. Don’t overthink it. Joey is a gentle giant.”
“Joey? Joey the horse?”
Cash nods. “He just goes by Joey.”
That makes me laugh, but only for a moment before I once more look back toward Joey and his…hugeness.
“Honestly,” Cash says. “It’s not hard.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter, staring at the saddle as if it might bite.
“Don’t worry.” Cash moves closer to me, his voice drops low. “I’ve got you, Kali. Promise.”
I take his hand and look in his eyes.
Trust.
That’s what he’d said about the horses. This moment didn’t feel any different, and looking into his dark eyes, I don’t see any reason not to trust him.
I take his hand before I can talk myself out of it. His palm is rough and warm against mine, steadying me as I lift my foot up into the stirrup. His other hand comes to my waist, guiding me up, firm but gentle.
There’s nothing more to his touch than assistance. It shouldn’t make my heart race like this.
