She should never have agreed to this. Starting with petting the horse’s snout yesterday, is that what they were called? A nose, maybe? Now she was going to ride one? Colette shook her head. She had spent so long being afraid of horses, she didn’t know how to make herself comfortable around one in the next five minutes. It seemed like a big ask.
Her thoughts were scattered. She tucked her thick pink cardigan into her jeans.
Yes.
Jeans.
Okay, maybe she made two concessions. She wore pants after he so rudely demanded it.
Applying cherry lip gloss after having stress licked it off for the hundredth time, she took another deep breath. Marshall told her she had to be calm around the horses, but she was jumpier than a millennial answering a phone call. Marshall recommended cowboy boots, but she didn’t have any of those yet. They were still in some warehouse in Calgary and wouldn’t be delivered for a few days. She settled on brown lace-up ankle boots and grabbed her medium-length green quilted jacket to stay warm. Spring mornings in Alberta still qualified as mitten weather as far as she was concerned, and she slid on a pair of soft fleece gloves. She hated being cold.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Colette contemplated who this person was that she was becoming. Outdoors first thing in the morning? How absurd. Cameron would have a laugh when she told him what they were up to. She was the least outdoorsy person she knew. She preferred curling up indoors with a book or a good movie and a bag of chips over a hike any day. With a parting huff, she opened the door to the guest house, taking in the peachy pink skies, unhindered by buildings or powerlines, just draping endlessly over miles of prairie fields.
Alright, being outdoors had some perks. The frost on the fields sparkled as the sun rose. The cattle grazed calmly in the scintillating fields. The slow rhythmic movement of their heads as they munched on the grass was almost…soothing. She hugged herself as she jogged toward the stables, where Marshall had asked her to meet him. Her breath caught as she came upon him. He was tightening the reins around the horse’s neck and patting him gently. A soft mumble of words drifted to her over the morning breeze.
Marshall was having a conversation with his horse.
The way he grinned at the animal and patted him on the neck lessened her fear…but only a touch. The way her heart picked up its pace in her chest told another story.
Loath to interrupt them, she cleared her throat as she approached and gave Marshall a small wave. The horse flicked his tail, and she jumped. So much for staying calm.
“Vinny is ready, and I’ll be bringing out Mocha for you to ride,” Marshall said.
Colette blinked slowly, watching as the rays of morning sun touched his face, highlighting his high cheekbones and strong jaw with a close-cropped beard. His hat did nothing to hide the striking shade of his eyes as they rested upon her face. His scrutiny was unsettling, breath-stealing.
Damn, that guy was hot.
Too bad that horse was going to kill her. She backed away slowly, turning on her heel and walking back toward the guest house.
“Sorry, Marshall. I’m not ready,” she said, the words cascading over her shoulder as she made her escape. The sound of his boots running toward her in the gravel made her pause. She waited for him, keeping her eyes well away from that devil of a horse. Black. Imagine. Like something out of her Spooky Hollow nightmares. Hell no. She was not prepared to face her fears today.
“Wait!” He reached for her arm. “Colette, what are you doing?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them to find him watching her, his eyes soft with concern.
“I thought I was ready. Turns out I’m not.” She rubbed her arms, attempting to shake off the fear.
Marshall walked around to face her. “I’m not going to force you, but my horses are basically sofas with legs. They aren’tgoing to attack anything except a particularly tempting patch of grass, or maybe a carrot.”
Colette huffed, eyes wide. “Tell me again why we have to do this?”
“I can drive you around the ranch, but that isn’t the most efficient way to show you what you’re working with,” he explained. He reached his arms to grip her shoulders. “You’re not going to get hurt. Trust me.”
Colette held his gaze for a breath, then looked away, eyeing the guest house a short walk away. All warm and cozy and tempting, with a computer and fleecy socks. Her shoulders dropped. She had to be brave. It was crucial that she succeed at this job to make a good impression on her boss. If she got scared now, she would be showing exactly how unsuited she was to this position. Colette was nothing if not professional. Capable.
All she had to do was believe that Marshall could keep her safe.
He seemed genuinely capable of that, at least.
“Okay. I’ll trust you.”
His mouth curved into a half-grin, and she couldn’t help but mirror it, sensing his happiness. Besides, she had watchedBridgerton. Horseback rides with your hair floating behind you seemed so exhilarating. Maybe one day she would progress to historical romance heroine status equestrian skills. It was possible. Unlikely, but possible. She wouldn’t know if she didn’t try.
“What’s my horse’s name again?”
He straightened out, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Mocha. She’s warm as hot chocolate and just as sweet. You’ll love her.”
Colette ran her hands down the front of her jacket, slowly filling her cheeks with air, then released. The sound of gravel kicking behind her jolted her attention and she turned. Herbody, rooted in the ground, froze as her worst nightmare became reality.
