Page 14 of Whispered Promises

I heave it up onto the barrow, next to the other bale, with a grunt. Max made it look a lot easier. Somehow, I don’t think he’ll want to come here every week and haul bales for me.

A girl can dream.

Turning back towards him, I let out a startled yelp and clutch my chest as he leaps from the top, landing into an effortlessly smooth crouch. The cocky maniac doesn’t even stumble.

He straightens and strides over to me, whilst I’m still battling my accelerated heartrate, and boops me on the nose, a confident smile plastered on his face.

“Aww, were you worried about me, cute stuff?”

I roll my eyes and bat his hand away, then spin, grab the handles of the barrow, and march out of the storeroom.

“I was just worried about the paperwork I’d have to fill in if you decided to hurt your stupid self,” I yell over my shoulder.

A bellow of laughter comes from behind me, and he jogs to catch up. “Lies. You were worried, but that’s okay. I can keep a secret.”

I shake my head, exasperated. Though I can’t help the little flicker of warmth in my belly over how much I enjoy our easy banter.

“Come on, Tarzan. We have some hungry ponies to feed, then you can swing from the trees and beat your chest.”

Arriving at the gate, I let us in, pushing the barrow through and walking down to the hay feeder.

“Uhh, Rosy…is this safe? I think the pony wants to trample or eat me. I can’t tell, but I vote neither.”

Glancing back over my shoulder, laughter erupts from my chest at the sight of Max sandwiched between Mabel and Gilly as they march after me. Both mares have their ears back, eye-balling each other, wanting to be the first to get to the food. Jerry, on the other hand, is charging in front of me, leading the way for us.

“Girls, give the poor man some room,” I scold them lightly. “They just want the food,” I say, trying not to laugh at Max.

“Psh, I think it’s me they’re fighting over. There’s plenty of me to share. No need to fight it out. And definitely not with me stuck in the middle.” He jogs forward, catching up, and sticks close to me as we approach the square feeder.

Dropping the barrow down, I pull a penknife from my pocket, cut the string around the hay bale, then grab the sections and put them up into the feeder. “If you can just grab some, and do what I’m doing?”

Max copies me, and we continue until the barrow is empty.

“Perfect, thank…” My words trail off as I glance up and erupt into laughter.

“What? What did I do? Have I got something on me?” Looking down, he hastily brushes the pieces of hay from his clothes.

“It’s…your…hair.” I try to suck the breath back into my lungs in between the laughter, gesturing around my own head as tears leak from the corner of my eyes.

“Here?” He misses most of the pieces lodged in his hair before finding a single straw and plucking it out. “Did I get it?” Shaking my head, I wipe the tears away with the sleeve of my jumper. “Can you help me?”

My laughter drops off, leaving behind muscles that ache from disuse. I need to laugh more.

He crouches slightly, and I step in close and start plucking out all the many pieces wedged into his hair. Honey-brown hair that’s so very soft.

Swallowing thickly, I give myself a pep talk on restraining my thoughts about a new friend. I grab the last visible piece and take a step back to check. “There, all done. I have no idea how you got so covered…”

My words trail off when I notice his eyes are locked on my lips.

“Dinner out or takeaway in?” he blurts, shoving me back into reality.

Clearing my throat, I step back and spin around to pick up the handles on the barrow.

“Definitely takeaway, less noise and people,” I quip back without hesitation, a smile settling on my face. We’ve been throwing out random ‘this or that’ questions all day after he suggested the game as a way to get to know each other.

“Sliders or flip-flops?”

His nose crinkles as he walks beside me, opening up the gate for me to exit through first. “Neither. Barefoot is much more comfortable. But if I had to choose, then sliders. No-one's keeping my toes apart.”