Just in case you ever have to tie someone up.
My stomach flips.
Yeah, no. No, no no.
That lecture-y note echoes in my head the whole way to the barn, but it doesn’t stop me from walking quickly, it doesn’t stop my pulse from racing, and it definitely doesn’t stop me from eagerly looking for Zane’s now familiar shape.
The barn is cooler than outside, and dimmer, all that warm afternoon light filtering through the high windows in long golden stripes. It smells earthy, like animals and hay, but not bad. This is a barn that’s cleaned out regularly, with care.
Zane is standing in the very end of the centre aisle, in front of an open door. He’s backlit by the sunny paddock on the other side of him, and he’s turned away from me, talking softly to a horse.
I barely have a chance to catalogue all the little elements as I approach—his hat is off, so his hair’s a little flat in a curious way, and he’s changed since this morning, swapping his t-shirt for a plaid cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up his impressively muscled forearms—before he senses my presence.
"Welcome to the barn, City Girl,” he says without turning around.
I jump. “How’d you know it was me, Cowboy?”
He turns and grins, a wide open smile that’s surprisingly playful as he holds up his phone. “We have location tracking on all of our phones. I watched you approach.”
I freeze, my whole body going white hot, then freezing cold.
“Hope?”
I stumble back.
Zane swears under his breath and holds up his hands. “Okay. Sorry, shit. I’ve said the wrong thing.”
I can’t move any further. My legs feel like lead. The world feels like it’s closing in around me, pressure squeezing me from all sides.
Beside me, there’s a soft whinny, then a velvety nose nudges my shoulder.
Nudge.
Nudge.
From a distance, I hear myself whisper to the horse that it should stop bumping me, but the horse isn’t a good listener.
And its nose is nice and firm, pushing through my panic.
Zane steps closer, keeping his hands up. “She won’t hurt you.”
Tears slide down my face, and I fucking hate that.
“I’m fine,” I manage to say.
He gives me a look, likeyeah sure you are, and gently turns me—barely touching me, somehow—so I’m looking at the velvety soft muzzle. “You’ll be more fine after a minute with Shadow. This is my mare, and she’s a very good horse.”
Shadow is a gorgeous grey colour, with a wide white blaze down her nose and eyes so dark they look bottomless.
"Hi," I whisper.
She stretches her neck out over the stall door and huffs a warm breath against my collarbone.
"That's it." Zane's voice is low. He hasn't moved any closer, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or Shadow. “It’s nice to make friends. Quiet friends you can just breathe with."
I put my hand up tentatively and Shadow, not tentatively at all, pushes her nose into my palm, her whiskers tickling my wrist.
"There you go," Zane murmurs.
