I took a slow step back, letting my eyes run down her frame. She was trouble. Hot, snarky, overconfident trouble. Ponytail half undone. Sneakers scuffed. Lip bitten like she was trying not to smile.
Pissed off and proud, and clearly bluffing.
I let her sit in the silence for a second.
“Depends.”
“On what?” she asked, cocky.
I nodded toward Shakespeare. “Whether or not you like concussions.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Go ahead then,” I said. “He’s all yours. I’ll go grab you a hat in case he bolts. Don’t wanna mess up your pretty little head any more than it already is.”
I turned, strolled toward the barn door, slow on purpose.
Behind me, I heard her huff.
“Okay, okay—fine. You win. I haveno ideawhat I’m doing.”
I stopped. Grinned to myself.
God, she was cute when she admitted defeat.
All puffed up pride and no plan.
Couldn’t wait to swing up behind her and show her how it’s done.
This girl…
She was starting to get to me.
I tossed the saddle over Shakespeare’s back, tightening the cinch with practiced hands.
“Just in case you ever feel like learning to ride for real,” I said over my shoulder. “Might as well give you the basics.”
She crossed her arms. “Well, thanks for the tutorial. So I just get on, hold the reins, and…?”
I couldn’t help it. Laughed. Loud and sudden. Jesus.
Didn’t even know her name, and already loved everything about her. Which—yeah—freaked me the hell out.
What the hell is going on with me? This is exactly the problem withwomen—they make you lose your damn mind.
I cleared my throat, fast. Back to neutral.
“I’ll get on first. Then I’ll help you up.”
She blinked. “Wait, what? We’re ridingtogether?”
I adjusted the stirrup like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Far as I know, there’s only one horse and two asses. You do the math. Unless you’d rather bike.”
“Yeah… no thanks.”
She did pretty well, actually. Stepped up on her good leg, grabbed the saddle. I lifted her by the waist and settled her in front of me.
