“I’d rather be in front, if that’s okay.”
“Whatever you need, sunshine.”
Even in the very back, with six horses between us, I can sense Juniper’s anxiety. Her shoulders are scrunched nearly to her ears, and she keeps rolling them to get them to relax, but it doesn’t seem to be working. Luckily, Daffodil’s not upset by her mood, and she leads the riders with ease. I’m hoping the farther along we get, the more she can relax, but I watch her like a hawk in case she doesn’t.
I’m surprised when she starts giving the same spiel about the ranch that I usually give, and her voice shows no signs of distress. She answers everyone’s questions with ease, even if her body is screaming that she’s uncomfortable.
Maybe I’m the only one who sees it, because Iknowher. I’ve seen her body relaxed, and this is far from it.
She lights up when we reach the wildflower fields. Some of the flowers are dying already as the weather starts leaning more toward fall, but our guests still gasp, pulling out their phones and cameras to snap pictures.
While they marvel at the scenery, I pull Athena up next to Daffodil and gently knock my toe against Juniper’s. “How are you holding up?”
“All I can think about is what would happen if one of the horses spooked and bucked off a rider. I know it’s unlikely, but what if today just so happens to be the day? What if there’s loose gravel and a horse breaks their ankle and hurts someone? What if someone goes into cardiac arrest because they have an underlyingheart condition they don’t know they have? You and I aren’t equipped to deal with that.”
I blink. Where in the hell did her mind conjure that worry from? My initial reaction is to tell her to stop overthinking, but that would be insensitive. She can’t help where her thoughts go.
I glance around to make sure no one’s looking our way and place my hand on hers. “I don’t think anything bad will happen, but if it does, we’ll handle it. I’ve got you, sunshine. I won’t tell you not to worry, but trust that I’ll take care of anything that gets thrown our way. We’re a team. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Juniper’s shoulders relax. Maybe what she needed was reassurance. “Thank you.”
“Always.”
The second ride of the day goes off without a hitch, but by the time we get everyone in the mess hall for dinner, Juniper looks exhausted.
She was much more upbeat and relaxed on the second ride, chatting away with the guests, but I can tell the socializing has weighed on her. Instead of staying to eat with us, she made excuses to go back to her place.
As I’m dishing up my food, I realize I don’t want to stay here, either. I grab another plate and dish up the things I’ve seen her get for herself, then grab some foil from the kitchen and cover them before heading back out.
Josiah the cat almost trips me up, tangling around my legs as I walk up the path. Silly cat is always chasing after anyone with food, like he doesn't get fed.
“Go away, you mangy menace. This isn’t for you.”
I swear he understands me because he meows angrily before flicking his tail at me and running away.
I use my elbow to knock on the door, and Juniper opens it just a crack. Her brows furrow as she sees me with the plates, then she opens the door all the way. “What are you doing?”
“I brought you dinner. Trail riding takes a lot out of you, and I know the only thing you’ve got in your cupboards right now is instant noodles. You need real food.”
“Instant noodles are real food,” she grumbles as I set the plates on her tiny table for two.
I pull her into me, placing a kiss on her nose. “Maybe, but are they better than chicken pot pie and peach cobbler?” Her stomach growls on cue, and a smile tugs at my lips. “Come on, sunshine. Let’s eat, then we can shower and cuddle. I’ll even watch that show about the zombies you love so much.”
That perks her up. “Really? But you hate it.”
“I think it’s ridiculous and the plot doesn’t make any sense, but you love it, so I’ll watch it if it’ll make you happy.”
I’d do anything to make you happy.
“Thank you”
The kiss she gives me makes it all worth it.
We spend the rest of the night doing exactly what I laid out, and by the time we’ve made it through the third episode, Juniper is fast asleep. Her head rests on my shoulder, her breath steady and even.
I turn off the TV and nudge her awake. “Come on, sunshine. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Mmkay,” she mumbles sleepily, still halfway to dreamland.
