The more I tangled up with him…
The less I doubted that this man was perfect for me.
And I couldn’t wait to see where the future took us.
EPILOGUE
ERIC
Almost two years later.
“You know,” I told Bill, the orange barn cat, “you’re going to get your dumb ass stepped on.”
He meowed in protest and continued weaving in between my horse’s legs. I just rolled my eyes and nudged him away so he didn’t lose a paw or a tail. The horse, Jack, was pretty chill and always seemed to know when a foot—human or feline—was near one of his hooves. Still, accidents happened.
Bill started toward Jack’s legs again, so I scooped him up and parked him on the door of Jack’s empty stall. That seemed to please him, and he sat on top of the door, purring loudly.
“No self-preservation,” I muttered, and I continued brushing Jack.
On my way into the tack room to get my saddle and bridle, I glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was almost 6:20, and we were supposed to head out onto the trails at 6:30. I frowned, but continued inside.
As I was pulling my bridle off its hook, though, Jack nickered. Then another familiar equine voice called out from a few stallsdown, and I smiled to myself. I didn’t even have to look to know whose boot steps were coming down the concrete aisle.
When I stepped out, sure enough?—
“Sorry I’m late.” Jesse paused to pet Jack’s nose, then turned to kiss me lightly. “Traffic.”
“It’s okay. I still need to warm him up anyway.”
He flashed me a smile, stole another kiss, then headed back up the aisle to his horse’s stall. His mare, Sage, called out to him again, and he responded, “I’m coming, I’m coming!”
I chuckled as I continued getting Jack ready. It had already been cute how he’d been wrapped around his cats’ paws. Seeing him get this enamored with his horse had been enough to make me fall for him harder than I already had.
I hoisted my saddle onto Jack’s back, bridled him, and took him out to the arena to warm him up. He was a twelve-year-old gray Arabian gelding. He was mellower than a lot of Arabs I’d ridden in the past, and though he’d been a show horse in his younger years, he seemed much more content to be a trail horse. Perfect for me. He was still a little spicy sometimes—typical of his breed—so a brief warmup before we hit the trails was always prudent.
I’d leased him for six months while his owner recovered from back surgery. Two months in, I’d realized I didn’t want to stop riding. I’d dreaded the end of our lease, but as we’d come up on the six-month mark, his owner had decided to sell him. She’d healed well from the surgery, but the surgery itself and the recovery—not to mention the pain leading up to it—had been harrowing. In the end, she’d made the decision to stop riding in the name of her health.
Of course, she was heartbroken to sell Jack, so I’d assured her she was welcome to come see him any time. And she’d actually ridden him a couple of times since then. I think thatwas good for both her and him, so I was happy to keep them in contact.
It was also good for me to get Jack with the money I’d made from selling Selena’s ring. I didn’t even feel spiteful or vindictive about it; just happy to be rid of that ring and everything that came with it, and thrilled to have my new horse.
Jack and I had bonded well, too. He could be opinionated as hell sometimes, and he had his moments where I wondered if he was part orange cat. One day, he was completely bombproof. The next, he’d spook at sunbeams. Horses—what can you do?
But whenever his former owner rode him, he was rock steady and reluctant to even walk. When my sister brought her kids to meet him, he’d been just as cautious while they were on his back. Then he’d promptly dumped my ass in the dirt. Typical.
Predictably, Jesse had been drawn back into competing, and he’d bought a horse suitable for it. Sage was a dark bay Holsteiner standing almost seventeen hands, and she made jumping look easy. So did he. The two of them were incredible to watch. She had a sweet personality, too, and she utterly adored Jesse.
I couldn’t really blame her for that. Though he didn’t buy my affection with treats the way he did her, he had me thoroughly wrapped around his finger. In the two years since we’d gone to Moosehead Lake, we’d been inseparable, and not just because we lived together.
In fact, we’d gone back and forth at first about whether I should get my own place or if we should just keep shacking up. We didn’t want to move too fast in our relationship, and we didn’t want to put pressure on each other or ourselves.
Except living with him was easy. We could annoy each other as much as any roommates, but it was just little shit that came with sharing a space. Otherwise, we fell into a comfortable routine. We enjoyed each other’s company whether we weregoing out or relaxing at home on the couch. I’d barely slept in my own bed since we’d come back from Moosehead Lake.
Ultimately, though, the cats were the deciding factor.
One morning, Jesse snapped a picture of me asleep with Chili curled against my chest, his head tucked under my chin and his paw stretched out over my neck. Clyde, meanwhile, was on my pillow, his face buried in my hair.
Jesse showed me the photo after I woke up, and he said, “I think you and they would be miserable if you moved out. And honestly… so would I.”
