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A twisting ache pierced her heart. “No, I lost her when I was seventeen.”

Matthew didn’t respond for a moment. “There’s nothing worse than saying goodbye to a horse that passes away.”

Winnie nodded, though she couldn’t agree. There was something worse than that. What Dad did was much, much worse.

Winnie blinked, distracting herself from the past as she watched Matthew stroke Nightshade, rubbing his forelock and standing close to him. The bond between them was obvious. Matthew was gentle and affectionate, and his horse respected and trusted him in return.

She still found it hard to believe that this was Matthew she was standing by—the same Matthew she’d argued with a number of times, the same Matthew who’d teased her, the same Matthew she’d crushed with her unkindness.

Because right now, it was as if none of that had happened and they were speaking cordially, even friendly, like they had when they’d first met.

She could chalk it up to both of them being too exhausted to maintain their animosity that night. But it was more likely that the horses had something to do with it. They had a magic of their own.

“So, you know horses, then,” Matthew stated.

“Um, I did know horses,” she corrected.

Before she knew it, he reached into the bucket and tossed her a rubber curry comb, which she caught just in time against her chest.

“Once a horse girl, always a horse girl,” he said, then he tipped his head toward Nightshade. “Come on. You can help me out.”

Winnie stared down at the brush in her hands. She wasn’t sure about this. If feeling a horse’s breath on her fingers had launched her into the past, what would grooming one do to her?

“What?” Matthew asked, seeing her hesitate. “You’d rather pick the hooves?” He offered the pick to her, then eyed her up and down, his eyes lingering a moment on her legs. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to see that as much as the next person, but I do think a curry comb is better suited for you tonight.”

Her heart stuttered at his words.

He didn’t wait for a response, merely turned his back to Winnie and faced Nightshade’s back right hoof. He slid his hand down the back of the leg, and the horse lifted it instantly in response. Matthew braced himself, leaned forward, then began to pick out the hoof.

Winnie, however, focused on what faced her the most, namely, Matthew’s backside.

She blinked, realizing all too soon that she was kind of, sort of, most definitely admiring what she was staring at before she looked again at the comb in her hands.

At this point, with Matthew bending over like that and talking to her the way he was, she didn’t think she’d be focusing too much on the horse if she brushed Nightshade after all.

Silently, she stepped into the stall with Matthew, moving in front of the horse to cross to his other side.

Matthew didn’t respond. He simply reached down to Nightshade’s front hoof next. Winnie stole another glance at him before pressing the curry comb against the horse’s already pristine coat.

Flashes of brushing down Goldilocks flickered in her mind’s eye, but she set them aside as Matthew spoke again.

“I appreciate your help,” he said, grunting as he worked to clear out the hooves—though what little dirt was still there was beyond Winnie. “I’ve somewhere to be tonight, so I’m glad to have it.”

Winnie tipped her head to the side. “Oh? Got yourself a date or something?”

She frowned. What the devil had made her ask that? Now she sounded like she was more interested in him than she was.

Matthew straightened, looking at her over his horse’s neck, his features slightly red from exertion, though his eyes bright. “Maybe.”

Something akin to jealousy stewed in Winnie’s belly, though she told herself it was just hunger. “Well, good for you. It’s not easy finding time to date and work.”

Matthew smiled with a watchful gaze, but she didn’t acknowledge it. After a minute, he moved to the other side of Nightshade—the side she was on—and picked up the horse’s back leg. Matthew’s rearend once more faced her, though this time much closer than before.

She averted her body away from him, avoiding temptation altogether. He had to be doing this on purpose.

“I take it you find the balance difficult,” Matthew said, still cleaning out the hoof.

She fought the urge to look back at him. “I do okay,” she lied. She’d much rather talk about his dating life than her nonexistent one. “So is this a first date, then?” she asked, trying not to picture what type of girl Matthew was into. Probably a blonde.