“I finally got him to let me in the saddle too,” I say scathingly.
“Sorry, Red. I didn’t know you’d be working a problem horse when I got here. Are you alright?”he asks, his gaze tracking my movements.
His apology sounds sincere, but the nickname irks me, so I snap at him again. “I'm fine. Why’d you come by, anyway?”
His head whips toward the fence and his face morphs into a startlingly charming smile. “I brought you something.”
I lift a brow. “It better be worth me getting thrown from Lucifer’s back.”
“You named your horse Lucifer?”
I shake my head. “The rescue named him Lucifer. I just haven’t renamed him yet.”
He snorts a little in derision. “Hedoesseem to like to give you hell, but Lucifer feels a bit foreboding, don’t you think?”
Keeping the name feels a little like a bad omen, but I haven’t thought up a better one that suits him. So, for now, Lucifer it is.
“We were doing just fine until you got here,” I point out. “He has noise anxiety. I haven’t had the chance to work with him on it yet.”
“Clearly,” he comments, giving the horse a wary look.
I narrow my gaze. “I’m going to put him back in his stall. If you’re going to be an ass, you can leave before I get back.”
He throws his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture. “I wasn’t trying to be an ass.”
“Well, congratulations. You're a natural,” I quip.
His eyes roll, and he sighs at me. “I’ll wait here for you.”
“Suit yourself,” I mutter.
I put Lucifer back in his stall and untack him, taking a breather to ease my full head of steam.
I’m the stereotypical redhead with a temper. People around here have known me most of my life, so they're never caught off guard when I explode and then calm down again in short order.
Wes is standing exactly where he said he’d be, but there’s a paper bag in his hand now. His hat is shadowing his face, but I can feel his eyes on me as I saunter over to him. “You gonna tell me why you’re here interrupting my training session?”
He smirks and shakes his head before handing over the paper bag he’s holding.His fingertips brush over mine, sending a tingle of awareness through me. I ignore the sudden flip my stomach does at his stupid smirk and clutch the bag.
“What’s this?” I ask, peering at it dubiously.
“Open it and find out,” he taunts.
The bag crinkles in my hand as I open it, the scent of chocolate permeating the horses for a brief moment. “You brought me brownies?” My brows knit together in confusion.
He sighs. “It was supposed to be a peace offering. I saw them when I stopped at the café this morning and it reminded me of how you, Quinn, and Allie would always beg Tripp and me to take you to get some of Mrs. Mackey’s brownies.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised he would remember something that happened so long ago. He’s doing something nice for me, and I don’t know if I can trust it. If I can trusthim.
“Youdostill like brownies, right?” he questions.
“Of course, I do.”
“Good. Did I mess up the brownie peace offering by spooking your horse?” he asks, pulling a reluctant smile from me.
“I’ll let you know after I eat them all by myself,” I say.
“That’s cold, Red. I thought you’d at least offer me one, especially since I saved you from getting trampled.”
