“I can imagine.” She walks further into the center of the room, head tilted back, staring up at the sky.
I press the button again, and the ceiling slides back into place. “There’re also switches on either side of the bed,” I tell her. “So you can activate it without having to get up.”
She turns to me with a playful smile. “I take it you’ve stayed in this cabin before?”
“Once or twice,” I admit with a shrug. “Usually when I need some time to think.” I skip the fact that I’ve never shared this cabin with anyone else. Feels like too much, too soon. If she’s not worried about it, neither am I.
“Cool,” she says, her voice soft.
“Well. We’ve got the rest of the day ahead of us.” I check my watch. “If you want to tour the property and see the horses before dinner, we should probably head out. Unless you’re tired and want to take a nap?”
Her eyes light up. “No! I’m not tired at all. Just let me freshen up a bit.”
While Sasha disappears into the bathroom, I take a moment to collect myself. Sharing this cabin with her—a place thatmeans so much to me—makes me nervous. I’ve spent months pining (Ryder’s words, not mine) over her, and finally having her all to myself feels a little overwhelming.
But seeing her face as the ceiling opened up? Totally worth it.
A few minutes later, she emerges from the bathroom. “Ready when you are.”
Opening the door, I gesture with a wide sweep of my hand. “After you, sweet cheeks.”
Even though thepaths are well maintained and kept pretty smooth, the golf cart still bounces a little. It’s making Sasha’s breasts jiggle, and I have to force myself look away before my dick thickens.
The path curves as we make our way across the property, and I point out the various cabins nestled among the trees. “Those are for the guests.” I gesture at a cluster of cabins in a clearing. “Each one is named after a different type of tree. Pine, Oak, Cedar... you get the idea.”
As we bump along, I can’t help but sneak sidelong glances. Hair shining like fire in the sun, Sasha’s full lips tilt in a half-smile as we bounce along.
“Those are the family cabins.” I slow the golf cart so she can get a better look. “That’s where the kids and their families stay when they come for therapy sessions.”
“How many people can stay here at a time?” she asks, gripping the side of the cart as we hit a particularly rough patch. I make a mental note to get that fixed.
“About thirty, give or take? The cabins can house two tofour people each, and there are ten of them, plus the staff quarters,” I say, turning a corner. “We’ve got a small cafeteria over there,” I point to a wide, square, single-story building with picnic tables sitting out front. “Nothing fancy, but the food’s good. Meg helps oversee some of the meals.”
“It’s so peaceful here,” she says, eyes shining as she looks around. “I can see why you love it.”
As we crest a small hill, the main barn comes into full view. It’s a massive red structure with white trim. I’ve spent countless hours under its metal roof. The weathered boards have withstood decades of harsh winters and scorching summers. The double doors are wide open at the top, revealing the shadowy interior where hay bales are stored.
I park the golf cart near the entrance. The stable is a long, low-slung building with individual stalls lining both sides of a wide, center aisle each one housing one of our therapy horses.
“Come on.” Resting my hand at the small of her back, I guide her forward. “I want you to meet some friends of mine.”
She doesn’t flinch when I touch her, and I give myself a mental fist bump.
“This is where we hold most of our therapy sessions,” I explain as we walk inside. “On this side of the barn, there are indoor riding areas, tack rooms, and offices for the counselors.”
Sunlight streams through the windows, casting golden beams across the hay-strewn floor. Sweet hay, leather, and the earthy musk of horses hit my nose right off the bat. It’s a combination of scents that always centers me, grounding me in the present, bringing me peace.
As we walk down the aisle, curious equine faces poke out of their stalls. I introduce them one by one, watching Sasha’s face transform with each new introduction. Her eyes light up, her smile wide as she approaches each horse with gentle confidence.
“This is Maverick.” I stop at a stall housing a dapple-gray gelding. “He’s one of our gentlest.”
Sasha approaches the stall, and Maverick immediately stretches his neck out in greeting. With no hesitation, she reaches up and lets him sniff her palm before gently stroking his velvety nose.
“Hey there, handsome,” she coos as the horse’s eyes half-close in pleasure. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?”
Well, shit. Never in my life did I ever think I’d be jealous of a horse.
Mentally shaking my head at the irrationality of it all, I stand back, mesmerized by the way she’s interacting with Maverick. Just the thought of the natural way she connected with him makes my chest tighten.
