I liked city parks in the early morning when nobody else was in them. I liked a good latte in a quiet corner of a café with abook I’d been saving. I liked Saturday afternoons at home with no agenda and no people and the particular luxury of existing without having to perform for anyone. I was an introvert who had learned to be social in public and then needed forty-eight hours alone to recover from it.
I did not do group activities.
I’d had two options about what to do today. A guided hike to the fishing pond or learning to curry a horse. Curvy librarians did not hike. We sat in air conditioning and judged people who did. I’d enjoyed my ride on Buttercup, so I’d signed up for currying a horse and hoped I didn’t get kicked in the head. Although, that might have helped considering I’d lost most of my brain cells already.
Falling for a cowboy, indeed.
I made it to the barn without incident, expecting to find Carl waiting for me. Of course, it was Slade instead. I had thought to give myself some distance from the distracting man by signing up for this activity, but apparently that wasn’t in the cards for me.
He was leaning against the stall door, hat pushed back, looking at me with that same sexy certainty he’d used to wreck my composure against the oak tree the night before.
The man was a walking argument for things I’d told myself I wasn’t doing.
“Parker.” Again, with the drawl that should absolutely be outlawed.
“Everett,” I looked around, expecting to at least some of the guests. Surely, they all hadn’t wanted to go hiking. “No one else signed up?”
“Nope. It’s just you and me.”
I looked at him a little suspiciously. As if he’d planned this entire thing just to get me alone. Behind him was a massiveblack horse tossing his heavy head and letting out a huff of air that sounded like a warning.
“That’s a very big horse. A lot bigger than Buttercup.”
“That’s Whirlwind.” His voice was heavy with pride. “He’s my personal mount.”
“He’s enormous.”
“He’s just a horse, Jamie.”
He smiled—not the full one, the smaller version that lived at the corner of his mouth and was somehow worse—and pushed off the stall door and went to collect the curry brushes.
My feet started turning toward the door. Like I was going to just walk up to a beast the size of a compact car and start combing it.
“Hold on there.” He grabbed my arm and turned me back to face him. And the horse. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Jamie. Do you believe me?”
I nodded my head reluctantly.
“Good girl. I’m going to show you the proper way to curry a horse.”
Those two words ran straight through me and immediately I wondered what else he could show me how to do. Naughty, very specific things to do.
“Great,” I said, hoping nothing of what I was thinking showed on my face.
“And then you’re going to do it.”
“Somewhat less great.”
He held the brush out. I didn’t take it. He looked at the brush. Looked at me.
“Come on, I know you’re braver than that. You got on Buttercup like a champ.”
“Yesterday I was distracted.” I could have died from that unintentional slip. I knew he knew what I was talking about when he grinned at me.
“So, I’ll distract you today, too.”
I grabbed the brush and walked toward the horse, his laugh following me.
“Okay, first thing, you want to let him know you’re here.” He smoothed a hand down the stallion’s neck and the horse tossed his head.
