She turned away and stuck her face in her feed bucket, which was the horse equivalent ofsure.
I made it through morning chores on autopilot. I unwrapped Starlight’s hoof and found it cool and dry, the abscess fully healed. I left the bandage off for the first time in ten days. One problem actually solved. Muscle memory carried me through the rest of the motions while my brain replayed the lounge on a loop. Graham’s face when he caught me watching his videos. That half-smile.I was telling Brutus about you.
Who says that? Who admits that to a woman who’s been actively hostile to him for a week?
A man who’s either completely sincere or dangerously good at seeming like it.
And I couldn’t tell which one scared me more.
By nine, I’d exhausted every possible task that didn’t involve leaving the barn, and Kaya had started giving me looks.
“You’ve cleaned that saddle three times,” she said, leaning against the tack room door.
“It’s a dirty saddle.”
“It’s the cleanest saddle in Colorado. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
Kaya studied me the way she studied horses. Patiently, without blinking, until the subject got uncomfortable enough to reveal themselves.
I didn’t reveal myself.
“I’m taking Cassie out this morning,” I said instead. “I need to check the north trail after the weather last week.”
“Want company?”
“No.”
“Okay.” She pushed off the doorframe. “Graham asked about riding this morning, by the way. Something about Brutus needing exercise.”
My hands stilled on the saddle. “He can ride in the arena.”
“That’s what I told him. He said the arena was too small for Brutus and he didn’t want to bore him.” Kaya’s mouth twitched. “He also said, and I quote, ‘If Rose is heading out, I’d be happy to tag along and stay out of her way.’”
“He wouldn't just be happy to tag along. He'd be smug as hell about it.”
“Probably.” Kaya grinned. “But Brutus does need the exercise. And the north trail is better with two riders in case something goes sideways.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it.
She wasn’t wrong. The north trail climbed through rocky switchbacks above the tree line, and after the temperature swings this week, there could be loose rock or downed branches. Riding it alone wasn’t dangerous, exactly, but it was the kind of thing I’d lecture a guest about.
“Fine,” I said. “But this is not a date.”
“Nobody said date.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking about lunch, actually.” Kaya ducked out before I could throw the saddle sponge at her.
Graham was waitingby the arena when I led Cassiopeia out, Brutus already tacked and fidgeting beside him. He’d done the saddling himself, correctly, I noticed, with the cinch snug but not overtight and the breast collar properly adjusted.
“Morning,” he said.
“There’re rules,” I said, not breaking stride. “You ride behind me. You follow my lead on terrain. If I say stop, you stop. If I say turn around, we turn around. This is my trail and my property and I’m not interested in heroics.”
“Understood.”
