She glances at the cups, then at me. “Thank you for the coffee. What’s my flavor today?”
“Hazelnut,” I tell her. “Because it seemed like you’d want something a little off-center.”
Her lips curve, just at the corners. “You’re not wrong. Well, let me try it out,” she says, and takes the cup I hand her.
Our fingers brush once again. It’s brief and unavoidable. The contact lands like a pulse I don’t need but can’t ignore.
We sit on the bench by the tack room, steam curling up between us. The place smells like leather and hay. It’s a familiar scent that is probably absolute home to her.
“I wanted to talk about his diet,” she says, getting straight to it.
I nod and pull my phone out, scrolling. “This is what he’s on now.”
I hand it over. She reads quietly, brow faintly furrowed. It’s not disapproval, but assessing.
“We’ll drop this,” she says, tapping one supplement. “Too much heat. He doesn’t need it right now.”
“Okay.”
“And add magnesium,” she continues. “Not a lot. Just enough to help him process stress without dulling him.”
I listen to the way she speaks, the tone of her voice. She sounds certain and keeps it economical.
“Why?” I ask.
She looks up. “Because he’s not explosive. He’s guarded. Different problem.”
That makes sense. Nicole hands my phone back. “Everything else is fine. You’re not doing anything wrong.”
I don’t know why that matters so much.
“How was yesterday?” I ask.
She studies me for a second, coffee cradled in her hands.
“I’m not going to tell you what happened,” she says. “Not yet.”
My jaw tightens with anticipation.
“But,” she adds, “it was all good.”
I let out a breath of relief.
“If today goes the way I expect,” she continues, “you’ll see it for yourself.”
That’s it. No tease or promises from Nicole … just quiet confidence.
She stands and sets her cup aside, sliding the riding helmet on with practiced ease. I have to look away again when she moves — hips, legs on full display in those riding britches.
“Window?” I ask.
She nods. “Window.”
♥♥♥
I take my place to watch, same spot as before. The difference is I’m ready this time. Coffee’s settled. Expectations dialed back. Nicole said I’d see it for myself if it happened. Still, she didn’t promise, but there was this quiet certainty in her voice.
Nicole steps out, reins loose in her hands, posture relaxed like she’s got all the time in the world. Red Ledger follows, and I feel it immediately — the change. His head is lower. His stride longer. There’s no jitter in the way his hooves hit the dirt.
