When we go to tack up Athena and Daffodil, I learn that Honeysuckle struggles with the trail and gets spooked easily, so Juniper only rides her in the corral.
Daffodil is a beautiful ten-year-old appaloosa with chestnut coloring. According to Shane, she’s one of the calmest horses in the barn, and they always give her to the most anxious riders because nothing can spook her. She knows the terrain like the back of her hand.
Once the horses are ready to go, I let Juniper lead the way. We head east, taking the dirt road that leads to the base of the hill where the trails are. I swear, the farther we get from the main area of the ranch, the more Juniper’s shoulders relax.
I remember her saying awkward silences make her uncomfortable, and I want this to be enjoyable for her. I’ve been making a mental list of conversation topics in case we were stuck in a situation like the trip to Missoula again.
I pull Athena up next to Daffodil, so we’re walking side by side. “Tell me about your favorite part of the ranch.”
Juniper looks taken aback, but she tilts her head, contemplating. “I like the wildflowers. There’s a big field on the other side of the hill, and when the flowers start to bloom, it looks like a postcard. I like to go out either when the sun has just risen or right before sunset and paint.”
“Wait, you paint? Did you paint the picture of the horse in your old bedroom?”
“I… I didn’t know you were staying in my old bedroom. But yes, that was me. I told Mama not to put it up, but she doesn’t like to listen to me.”
“Wow. That painting is stunning. I look at it all the time, wishing I could paint like that. I need to see more of your work.”
She waves me off. “It’s not that impressive. I picked up painting and drawing because my therapist recommended it to help calm my mind. I thought she was crazy at first, because I didn’t think I had an artistic bone in my body, and I didn’t know if I’d be any good. She told me I didn’t have to be good, I just had to try, and she was right. It helps when things seem too overwhelming, even if the end product isn’t perfect.”
I’ve already learned so much about Juniper, and I’m greedy and want to learn more. She’s opened up more to me out here among the ponderosa pines than she has on the ranch.
I think I need to get her out on the trail more often.
Chapter 11
Something about beingout in the fresh air on the back of a horse makes my tongue loose, apparently. Or maybe it’s the woman next to me, looking at me like she wants to know all my secrets.
I’m upset about Mr. Dupont cancelling. I’m worried that Daddy will have to give all the money back, even though it’s not our fault. The money would put the ranch ahead, and Daddy and I already discussed giving everyone a nice bonus at the end of the summer. If we have to refund it, we can’t do that.
Stupid, rich, pompous asshole. I bet that money was pennies to him.
I shake off my frustration and focus on the sounds of the birds and the scent of the pines. Daffodil and Athena seem to be enjoying the lazy stroll, and Addison seems more relaxed being away from the ranch, too.
I was shocked she asked me to go for a ride. I know damn well she has the trails memorized; she’s been on them practically every day, and I’ve seen her studying the maps in her spare time. The prettiest woman in the world wants to spend time with me, and my heart is giddy like a kid in a candy shop. My head, however, isplaying out all the scenarios and ways this little outing could go wrong.
I could say something out of pocket and scare her off, or I could talk too much and make her annoyed with me. Who knows? Maybe today is the day Daffodil decides she’s done being ridden and bucks me off, and I break my ankle.
The possibilities are endless.
“From what I’ve seen of your art, the end product is pretty damn good. Have you ever thought about selling prints?”
“I have. Daddy even offered to build me a whole shed if I wanted to pursue it as a career. But I think monetizing it would put a lot of pressure on me, and then I wouldn't enjoy it anymore. I would lose the one thing that calms my brain, and I can’t do that. Plus, I don’t have enough time to devote to it to make it profitable.”
“That makes sense. Well, if you ever open up commissions, I’d like to be at the top of the waitlist. I need something to remember my time here since I’m so bad at taking pictures.”
My mind flashes to a watercolor of golden hair splayed out over white bedsheets, fingers curled in pleasure and sweat dripping down the brow of the person.
My fingers twitch on the reins, eager to get to my paints. I’m sure that’s not the kind of memory she’s talking about, and I’d never paint her in such a way without her consent, but the thought of putting our night together on paper has me eager.
“I’ll let you know if I ever do.”
I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep. I think I’d stress too much about making it perfect; I wouldn’t have a finished product for her.
A comfortable silence stretches between us as we come to a fork in the trail. One side leads to the valley, where the flowers will soon be blooming. That’s the way we usually go with our guests, since the other trail leads to the old hay barn from when this was a cattle ranch.
I nod in the direction of the left trail. “Have you ever been down this one?”
“No. Your dad told me that wasn’t a place we generally take guests, so I figured I’d stay away.”
