Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 13
Trey
“Okay, everyone,” I call out, my voice carrying across the arena. “Let’s pick up a canter.” I critically watch the group of five riders command their horses to enter into the loping gait, noticing a mistake off the bat. “Carrie… you’re on the wrong lead. Try again.”
The sun beats down, but the weather is too pretty to coop them up in the indoor arena. This is an adult group lesson and my last of the day. They ride in a large circle around me, their faces a mix of concentration and enjoyment.
After they make two full circles, I call out, “Okay… down to a trot.” Carrie’s on the wrong lead again. “Sit one, Carrie.”
She takes an extra bounce in her seat, putting her back on the correct lead. “Great job. Now look down… memorize what it looks like.”
Her head bows for a second, studying her horse’s shoulder and then back up again with uncertainty. “You’ll get it,” I assure her as she trots by. “Takes practice.”
Carrie nods, her face scrunched up with concentration.
The sound of an approaching car on gravel gets my attention and I turn to see a silver sedan pulling into the small lot between the lesson barn and arena. My pulse skitters as I recognize Holland’s rental.
“Everyone drop your stirrups,” I say, my eyes cutting back and forth between the riders and the beautiful blond. Fuck she looks good… wearing a pair of riding jods, a new pair of boots she must have picked up at Freedman’s and a helmet in her hand.
That’s a sign of permanence in my opinion. For a woman who was intent on heading back to Zurich, she just dropped some money to be able to do a little casual riding.
I grin as she waves at me, heading to the arena fence. Luckily, the lesson is almost over so I instruct the riders to pick up their stirrups and two-point. I cross a break in traffic and meet Holland at the fence.
Her easy smile speaks to the way things have changed in a few short days. Yesterday, she accepted my invitation to take a quick Sunday morning trip to the Cincinnati Zoo where we spent a few amazing hours, walking around hand in hand. It was like we were young lovers all over again, sneaking off to a place where we’d have anonymity. Conversation flowed and there was tenuous talk of future plans. That evening, she came over and had Sunday dinner with our family before Abby headed back to Pittsburgh and it felt like old times.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, a grin spreading across my face.
She holds out her arms, showcasing her attire. “I thought I’d ride, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay,” I reply, trying to keep my tone casual as she comes right to the fence and leans an arm on it. “Need a lesson?”
Her smile turns mischievous, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, “Only if you’re giving it.”
My heart skips a beat and it’s a marvel how deeply this creature affects me, but I maintain my composure. “Go get Sampson ready. He’s in stall eight. I’ll be in shortly.”
Holland winks and heads off to the barn. I watch her go, my eyes pinned to her ass.
“Got your eye on someone special?” one of my riders asks as he trots by.
“Mind your own business,” I mutter, but I can’t help but smile.
I finish the lesson by calling everyone into a line-up. I hand out final tips before they dismount and lead their horses back to the barn. I follow along, heading toward Sampson’s stall, which is on the back side.
As I come around the corner, I hear Wade and Holland talking. Wade’s voice is light and playful, and Holland’s laughter rings out in response. I slow my steps, curiosity getting the better of me.
“So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” Wade teases, leaning against the stall door as Holland adjusts the saddle on her horse.
She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “What, this old place? Just slumming it, you know.”
Wade grins. “No girl as pretty as you could be slumming it.”
Holland laughs again, shaking her head. “You’re quite the charmer, Wade Blackburn.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” he says in a deepened voice, eyebrows waggling.
“I call bullshit,” Holland says, and I make myself known.
“That’s because Wade’s the king of bullshit,” I quip, giving him a light punch on the arm.
“How’d your lesson go?” he asks, both of us stepping back as Holland leads a fully tacked Sampson from his stall.
“No one fell off,” I deadpan.
“That’s a win.” Wade laughs, then nods to Holland. “You going to give this one some pointers?”
“Well, you know,” I say, shooting Holland a wink. “She’s probably a little rusty.”
“I mean… those shiny new boots she has on,” Wade plays along, glancing down at her feet. “Total novice.”