“I’d like to see those hockey players do what they do with one thousand pounds of horse between their legs.”
“Nowthatwould be a sight.” I laugh and he joins in. I finish chopping the carrots, then find a bag to put them in and hand them over to him.
“What’s your name?” he asks with a smile, and I get another view of his white teeth.
“Simon,” I answer.
“Then thank you, Seemon,” he says and my knees nearly buckle. I lean on the counter so he doesn’t notice. The way he says my name, in his accent, pronouncing thesiassee, drawing it out like it’s special. I’ve always thought my name was boring, very plain, but the way he says it makes it sound alluring, like a rich blend of expensive chocolate. I swallow and try to focus.
“What’s your name?”
“Andrés,” he replies, and again it sounds exotic to my ears.
He holds up the bag of carrots. “Well, thank you again.” He turns to go, but I feel reluctant to let him go just like that.
“Can I... um . . . can I see this horse that’s worth these special carrots?” I blurt out, and his eyes sparkle with amusement again.
“Of course.”
I let him go first, and following behind, I notice his perfectly shaped globe of an arse. Wow. If that’s what riding horses does... He catches my eye and smiles.
“How long have you ridden horses?” I ask, quickly covering up the fact I was ogling him.
“Since before I could walk.”
Yes, that would probably produce an amazing arse and probably some other interesting muscles as well. I know very little about horses, but I’m intrigued. I grab my coat. The staff quarters are separate from the main hotel, so I have one handy. It’s not quite up to the biting cold of the below-freezing temperatures of Aspen nights, but I’m barely ever out of doors so I haven’t bothered to upgrade it. Not that I have the money anyway. There’s been a fresh sprinkling of snow since I started my shift hours ago, and it crunches underfoot as I follow Andrés across the hotel grounds to a long, low wooden building I’ve not really noticed before.
The first thing I notice when Andrés opens the door and we slip inside is the smell. Or rather, a cacophony of them. Not all of them are pleasant. It’s also warmer than I expected for a wooden building, but I guess that’s from all the horses. I’ve never seen so many, not that I’ve been close to any horses before. There’s a line of horses down each side of the building, all separated by a low wooden wall, and a central space where there are bales of hay, tools, metal lockers, and various piles of unfamiliar equipment. There are also a few people, tending to the horses. Andrés leadsthe way along the central corridor until we come to a guy sitting on a bale rubbing a cloth over a saddle. Andrés speaks to him in what sounds like Spanish. He flicks his eyes to me and then nods to Andrés, then he rises and puts the saddle in a locker and secures it. He says something I don’t catch, gives me another glance, and walks off.
“That’s Jorge. He’s my groom,” Andrés explains and then turns to his right. “And these are my horses.”
“Horses? I thought you said horse.”
“You cannot play polo with just one horse,” he says as if it was common knowledge, but clearly I know nothing about horses.
“How many do you have?”
“I only brought five with me, but I have twelve more back in Argentina.”
“Who has that many horses?” I say with incredulity. I can’t contemplate it. He laughs softly, a warm sound which reaches into my core. He doesn’t answer, though, which I take to mean my question was ridiculous. Well, clearly we live in different worlds. The only thing I know is that horses are expensive and he has seventeen of them, whereas I can’t even afford to buy a warmer coat. I shiver slightly as if the reminder of that has chilled me. He’s obviously very rich. I shouldn’t have come out here; I don’t belong. I’m just contemplating what excuse I can use to leave.
“Would you like to meet them?” he asks.
Damn his voice and it’s honeyed accent that has me wanting to hear more. I could have left if he’d just stayed quiet.
“Um, alright.” I look past him at the horses and all I can see are their backsides. Okay, I know two things about horses, the second is to stay away from their back ends—they kick.
“This is Marvel, Furia, Terco, and Saban.” He points to each horse in turn. “And this one is Chispa.” He goes towards it, just walking up to its tail. It doesn’t move at all, just flicks back an ear and carries on eating hay from what looks like a bag made of string.
“She did well today.” He moves along the wall towards her head and takes the bag of carrots from his pocket and feeds her a few. I stay where I am in the centre of the building.
“Would you like to say hello?” he asks, looking over at me.
“I, um. I’ve never been that close to a horse before.” I’ve touched one over a fence—the front end of it, the safer end, though I suppose the teeth are still dangerous.
“Come on, she won’t do anything.”
I take a deep breath and tentatively approach her, and she doesn’t move so I get a bit closer. Still she doesn’t move, so I squeeze myself along the low wall next to her, as close as I can get. I don’t breathe again until I’m standing next to Andrés by her head. He doesn’t comment on my nervousness, just gives me a kindly smile when I reach him like I’ve achieved something amazing.
