The four-year-old mare was already saddled and loosely tied to the top rail. Waverly entered the arena and slowly approached. The mare watched her, not showing any sign of nerves. When Waverly reached her, she ran a hand down the horse’s shoulder and murmured something too low for me to catch.
I leaned against the rail and watched. The mare moved well. She was balanced and responsive. Waverly took her through a figure-eight and came out clean. I saw a good foundation and a solid temperament. The mare had room to improve but already showed signs of being competitive. She was a solid horse.
Waverly pulled up and walked the mare over to the rail. "What do you think?"
"She's good," I said. "Better than the gelding we saw yesterday."
"But?"
I straightened and met her gaze. "She's not ready for the level you're competing at. Not yet."
Waverly tilted her head, studying me for a long moment. "You said the same thing about the last one."
"Because it was true."
"Or because you're still looking for reasons to say no."
The words were quiet and direct, but they didn't hold any heat. Still, they landed like a solid punch to my gut.
"I'm giving you an honest evaluation," I said.
"Are you?"
"Yes."
She shifted her weight, one hand resting on the mare's neck. "You said she's good. You said she's solid. But you won't tell me to take her."
"Because you need better than solid."
"And you need to stop pretending this is about the horses."
The air between us crackled.
"It is about the horses," I said.
"No. It's about you trying to keep me at a distance because you don't know what to do with the fact that you kissed me and didn't hate it."
Tension rolled through my shoulders. "That's not?—"
"It is." She didn't raise her voice. Didn't move closer. Just held my gaze, steady and unflinching. "You said it was a mistake. Said it wouldn't happen again. And you've spent every conversation since acting like nothing changed when we both know it did."
"Nothing did change."
"Liar." Her eyes narrowed, and she shook her head.
I stepped back from the rail, trying to put space between us, hating the fact that she was right. "I'm trying to keep this professional.”
"No. You're trying to keep it safe." She dismounted and looped the reins over the top rail. Then she walked toward me, stopping just out of reach. "There's a difference."
"Waverly—"
"You kissed me, Tanner. And now you're standing here acting like I'm the one who crossed a line."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." She didn't look away and didn't back down. Just stood there, challenging me to either tell the truth or keep hiding behind the same excuses I'd been using since the moment she walked onto my property.
"This can't go anywhere," I said.
