He tips his head toward Canndy’s stall. “Come here. She’s sweet.”
I step closer. The horse turns her massive head toward me, dark eyes curious.
“Hold your hand out flat,” Cash instructs. “Like this.”
I copy him, and she sniffs my palm before huffing a warm breath across my skin.
“She likes you,” he says.
I let out my own huff. “How can you tell?”
“Just can.” He takes hold of my wrist and directs it to her nose. “Horses are good judges of character.”
This side of Cash reminds me a bit of my younger brother, just replace cars with horses. Maybe there’s hope for us yet.
I stroke her. She’s softer than I thought she’d be. Boone didn’t include hands-on time in his short lesson.
“Is this a test? Do I get your stamp of approval?”
“Sure thing.” He chuckles. “Where are you from?”
“Nashville. Grew up a bit outside of it, but the city feels like home.”
Or, at least, it did for a while. Now I’m not so sure. Home is starting to feel like a place called M-I-L-E-S.
“City’ll make you forget where you came from if you’re not careful.” Something in his voice makes me glance up at him. There’s a weight there that wasn’t before.
“You miss it? The ranch?”
“Every day.” He shrugs. “But you can’t chase what you want and stay in one place. Least, that’s what they tell me.”
I think about Miles. About Chicago. About how leaving could ultimately mean choosing one dream over another.
“Yeah,” I say quietly, but the stubbornness in me still doesn’t believe it’s true.
The studio door clangs open, startling the horse and us.
Cash darts a look over his shoulder at the grumpy man I’ve come to kind of like.
“Morning, Boone!” I say, overly cheery.
“Summer.” He gives me the tiniest smile before looking at Cash with his usual scowl. “Cash, I presume.”
“I’m wounded. Surely, you know who I am.” Cash stretches the limits of his cheeks with this particular grin.
Boone only shrugs.
I blink. Boone doesn’t know him? Cash Walker has three Grammys and sells out stadiums across the country. How does he not know who he is?
Cash manages to widen his smile, all teeth. “I can see your reputation is accurate.”
Boone doesn’t deign him with a response, pivoting back into the studio. And my steps pick up after him. “He’s a tough nut to crack,” I tell Cash over my shoulder, glad he’s actually following.
“I like a challenge.” He stops to run a hand down the last horse’s neck. “Good thing I bring my charm wherever I go,” he snarks.
Boone is in his usual spot, sitting in his swivel chair at the boards, scrolling on his phone.
“You’re late.” He spins in his seat to face Cash.
