‘That’s amazing about the championships – but is that possible? Like – where do you even buy horses?’ I asked as we began walking together.
She laughed, the sound echoing as we skirted the lake shore, a couple of birds startled out of the trees that ran the length of one edge.
‘Plenty of places, but there’s a horse sale on tomorrow morning, a couple hours out of town. Would you want to come along? I know horses aren’t your thing, but—’
‘I’m there,’ I said, hooking my arm through hers. ‘Now, while it’s true I know sweet fuck all about horses, I do know people. You concentrate on finding a good horse, and I’ll let you know if the owner’s a dick and trying to scam you.’
She huffed a laugh again.
‘Deal. Oh, and Jesse’s coming along too. He’s got the best eye outta all of us for horses. And maybe even people, too.’
I returned her knowing look with a serving of side-eye.
‘Quit it, or I’ll get the shots out again.’
The next morning, so early that my eyes watered under my sunnies, the three of us climbed into Bailey’s truck. I opted for the small back seat of the double cab, with Jesse the last one in as he secured and double-checked the horse trailer behind the truck.
As I clutched my flask of coffee like a lifeline, I looked out at the passing scenery – the jagged peaks of the Tetons spearing the sky, the deep greens and earthy browns of the pines. Wildflowers in every shade sprinkled the verges and endless fields in the distance; two birds of prey circled on the currents high up. This place had a way of making you feel like a very small, very insignificant piece of a vast jigsaw in a way a city couldn’t. People weren’t the main characters here.
‘You okay back there?’ Jesse said, turning to check. ‘What happens if you take those glasses off? You burn up or something?’
Bailey chuckled.
‘Fuck around and find out,’ she speculated. ‘You leave her be. She’s a night owl, not used to the hours us country folk keep, huh darlin’?’
I grunted my agreement, clinging to the caffeine.
‘How are you so cheerful this early in the morning?’ I murmured, wrapping Lottie’s oversized fleece-lined jacket around myself more tightly. Despite reaching the high twenties during the day, summer mornings in Jackson were barely in double digits.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said, turning back to face out the front of the truck as Bailey stepped on the gas, the main highway stretching out into the far distance. ‘The sun’s out, life’s good, Dunkin’s on the mend and . . . well, I’ve rarely had more fun getting over three-day hangovers.’
I only just hid my smile as he glanced in the rear-view mirror.
‘You got any Lainey Wilson?’ I asked, watching as his expression changed with the memory dawning, the words he’d whispered right before our last . . . encounter. ‘Wake me up with some country music. I’ve heard she’s good.’
By the time we reached the sale, I was humming along to some of the tracks. There were similarities between the heartfelt lyrics and darker undertones of the kind of music I liked, the guitars much lighter and more playful, but it suited the scenery, the whole vibe. I put on my hat as I slid out of the truck, finally removing the glasses.
‘There you are,’ Jesse smiled, lifting the brim for a moment.
I flinched away, knowing I looked as tired as I felt, no make-up to hide behind. He frowned as Bailey wandered over to the huge outdoor ring, horses already lined up and ready to show.
‘Sorry, I just . . . I look like shit, so . . .’ I began, surprised when I felt a gentle touch under my chin, his finger brushing my skin and lifting my head.
‘You’re a whole other person in the morning, aren’t you?’ he said, his voice as soft as his eyes. Before I could respond, he added, ‘But you don’t look like shit, honey. You look like you need another coffee and a hug or something, but you’re beautiful. You know that, right?’
Caught out again, my thoughts stalled.
‘Y’all coming? Jesse, what’d you make of this pinto?’
Bailey’s words rang between us, but Jesse made no attempt to leave. Instead, he stepped closer, putting an arm around my shoulder from the side, squeezing it for a moment. The unexpected gesture and the kindness behind it, despite having done all kinds of other physical things with this man . . . suddenly felt intensely intimate.
‘Thanks,’ I whispered, resting my head against his side for just a moment.
But then I felt it again. The same feeling as in the kitchen, and again at the line dance. A tiny shift, a small crack appearing at the surface, growing into a fissure in my gut.
As he gently pulled back, I glanced up, disconcerted to find that his expression reflected mine – a frown, now masked by a small smile, as though he’d felt it too.
He looked up and over to Bailey.
