Turning off the water, I rush to dry myself off and search for the first piece of paper I find. I need to get my vision down on paper before it deserts me.
Twelve
Ibrush my hands over the silky fabric of my dress once more to ensure it isn’t wrinkled. As I glance around at the people around me, I start to second guess myself. Everyone is dressed casually in jeans, T-shirts, and jumpers. I’m one of the few—correction, I’m the only person—who isn’t.
I dry swallow. Do they know something I don’t? I know that I’ll be receiving a tour of the barracks, but I assumed that the expectations would be to wear something a little better than my bum-around-the-flat clothing. Oh well, there isn’t anything I can do about it now.
Min
Hey, Soldier Boy, I’m getting into the check-in queue now.
Sam
Brilliant. I’ll come and collect you. Wait for me by the horse trailer.
A security guard checks my ID against the names of people on a list and reviews the contents of my bag before I’m waved inside. Walking through the gates, I enter a wide-open courtyard that could easily fit about a hundred horsesinside it. Behind it sits a red-brick building with a sign labeling it as the “Household Cavalry Mounted Regiment’s Barracks.”
There are large groups gathered around soldiers dressed in camo uniforms. Kids are running around and chasing one another. In the distance, I see two black horses being walked up a ramp into a vehicle that reminds me more of a motorhome than a horse trailer. I suppose that’s where I’ll find my man.
“Fashion Guru,” Sam’s deep voice calls out. I stop and spin around. His arms are crossed and he’s staring at me with an amused expression on his face. My breath catches. The camo uniform is definitely my favorite one I’ve seen on Sam. It suits him, especially the beret atop his head. “I expected you to be the best-dressed person in the yard and I was right.”
“I didn’t get the jeans memo.”
Sam’s body shakes with laughter. “There isn’t a dress code for civilians. You can wear anything you like. I’m glad you wore the dress. It’s very you.”
“Thanks. I made it myself.”
“Of course you did.”
His eyes linger on my outfit for a moment longer than necessary, then lock with mine. His brown orbs are dancing with the excitement of a child seeing a piñata filled with candy. My body is humming with energy.
I want nothing more than to greet him with a big hug and feel his arms wrap themselves around me, but we’re not exactly in a place with much privacy right now. And we haven’t moved past hand holding yet. Hopefully we’ll cross that bridge soon.
A horse neighs and we break eye contact. I glancearound me. There are a few groups of people lining up near a soldier in a navy-blue uniform holding a riding crop.
“Thanks for inviting me. I’m excited to see your, er... home?”
“Home. Work. My office. Call it what you will. It’s one in the same.” He gestures to the group. “If you want, we can join the behind-the-scenes tour of the stables.”
“Oh, that sounds like fun, except, just how close are we going to get to the horses?”
Sam removes his beret and scratches the top of his head. “Close enough to touch them.”
I gulp.
“Min, you’re a little pale, are you all right? Should we move out of the sun?”
“I’m fine,” I squeak. “Just the, uh, horses.”
“I forgot that you’re scared of them.”
I dip my chin. “I’m trying to work through it. I’ve talked myself into petting the police horses twice this week.”
“It’s okay to be afraid. Everyone has something that they’re scared of.” He closes the gap between us and places a hand under my chin, gently lifting it. “It takes a strong person to willingly confront that fear. I remember just how frightened you were the day we met, when I brought you into the stables. Were you seeking out the horses just for me?”
I bob my head up and down, like a marionette puppet. “From how you’ve spoken about them, I know how important horses are to you. I want to be able to see what you see in them.”
“That’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me. I find it incredibly attractive.” He gently kisses the topof my head. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. “Thank you.”
