Rosaline joked, grinning at her aunt. All her pretty shoes were just sitting in her suitcase with nowhere to go. Poor shoes.
Dafne let out a long sigh—she really had that down now. Managed to convey all sorts of exasperation with it, too.
“Just kidding,” Rosaline said. “I’ll grab tennis shoes.”
“You’re size seven, right?” Dafne asked, then before waiting for an answer said, “I’ve got a pair of black boots in my closet. They’ll be good for riding.”
Rosaline wondered just how much riding Dafne had done. She’d ask later. Right now, she was going to try not to skip out of the office so Bryson didn’t think she was a total weirdo.
***
Bryson cinched the saddle on the horse and then turned to Rosaline. When he’d been in Kansas helping train the new manager there, he’d told himself he’d built her up in his mind. That she wasn’t really that pretty and that fun to be around. He’d only thought so because he was starved for company.
As soon as he’d stepped into the office today and seen her again, though, he’d known he’d been fooling himself. The sun shone off her hair—it was straight today—she was wearing that exotic-smelling perfume, and she looked damn cute in boots. Realizing he was staring, he cleared his throat. “You gotta make sure the saddle is on tight enough it won’t slip off, but not so tight it’ll hurt the horse.”
“Got it,” she said with one sharp nod.
“You’re welcome to take Ace”—he patted the black Friesian he’d saddled—“or Chester. The Bay.”
“The Bay?”
Bryson pointed to his reddish-brown horse and then pulled out a saddle to put on him. “Sonny over there, the Palomino, isn’t a riding horse. He, um…” Bryson dropped his gaze to the straw on the floor of the barn. “His leg is hurt. He needs to be walked once in a while, but not ridden.”
Bryson considered leaving his cane in the barn; he hated using it in front of Rosaline. After a moment of going back and forth, he slipped it into Chester’s saddle in case they decided to dismount and walk around. He could walk without it if he had to, but whenever he did, he had to reach for the pain pills at the end of the day, and he avoided taking those as much as possible.
He helped Rosaline onto Ace, showing her how to guide the horse with the reins, then pulled himself onto Chester. It was good for her to learn on her own how to guide the horse, but he wished she were behind him again, her arms wrapped around his waist. “We’ll go slow, and if you want to stop, just let me know.”
She looked a little shaky, her eyes even wider than usual. “Got it,” she said, gripping the reins tighter. “Anyway, I think I do.”
“Don’t worry. Ace is mellow. You’re in good hands.”
“But he doesn’t have hands.”
“You’re in good hooves, then.” Fighting a smile, he shook his head. The dizzying thoughts were back in his head again. The ones that said beware and go for it, all at the same time. He still wasn’t sure which instinct to follow, but looking at Rosaline, he couldn’t help leaning toward the go-for-it idea.
***
Bryson turned his horse to check on Rosaline. Her cheeks were wind-whipped, and the sun was almost down, the sky purple behind her. During their ride, they hadn’t had much chance to talk, but he’d enjoyed trotting next to her, listening to her laugh or give a nervous squeal as she figured out how to ride. I wish the barn wasn’t so close already.
Rosaline nudged Ace with her heels, steering the horse closer to him and Chester. “So what were you doing the last few days? I thought maybe I’d scared you away.”
A foreign sensation that felt suspiciously like happiness wound through him. “You missed me?”
“You know I’m starving for social interaction.”
Bryson pulled back on the reins, slowing Chester down. “I had to go to the office in Wichita and help hire a new manager. Trust me, I’d rather be here.” With
Dafne let out a long sigh—she really had that down now. Managed to convey all sorts of exasperation with it, too.
“Just kidding,” Rosaline said. “I’ll grab tennis shoes.”
“You’re size seven, right?” Dafne asked, then before waiting for an answer said, “I’ve got a pair of black boots in my closet. They’ll be good for riding.”
Rosaline wondered just how much riding Dafne had done. She’d ask later. Right now, she was going to try not to skip out of the office so Bryson didn’t think she was a total weirdo.
***
Bryson cinched the saddle on the horse and then turned to Rosaline. When he’d been in Kansas helping train the new manager there, he’d told himself he’d built her up in his mind. That she wasn’t really that pretty and that fun to be around. He’d only thought so because he was starved for company.
As soon as he’d stepped into the office today and seen her again, though, he’d known he’d been fooling himself. The sun shone off her hair—it was straight today—she was wearing that exotic-smelling perfume, and she looked damn cute in boots. Realizing he was staring, he cleared his throat. “You gotta make sure the saddle is on tight enough it won’t slip off, but not so tight it’ll hurt the horse.”
“Got it,” she said with one sharp nod.
“You’re welcome to take Ace”—he patted the black Friesian he’d saddled—“or Chester. The Bay.”
“The Bay?”
Bryson pointed to his reddish-brown horse and then pulled out a saddle to put on him. “Sonny over there, the Palomino, isn’t a riding horse. He, um…” Bryson dropped his gaze to the straw on the floor of the barn. “His leg is hurt. He needs to be walked once in a while, but not ridden.”
Bryson considered leaving his cane in the barn; he hated using it in front of Rosaline. After a moment of going back and forth, he slipped it into Chester’s saddle in case they decided to dismount and walk around. He could walk without it if he had to, but whenever he did, he had to reach for the pain pills at the end of the day, and he avoided taking those as much as possible.
He helped Rosaline onto Ace, showing her how to guide the horse with the reins, then pulled himself onto Chester. It was good for her to learn on her own how to guide the horse, but he wished she were behind him again, her arms wrapped around his waist. “We’ll go slow, and if you want to stop, just let me know.”
She looked a little shaky, her eyes even wider than usual. “Got it,” she said, gripping the reins tighter. “Anyway, I think I do.”
“Don’t worry. Ace is mellow. You’re in good hands.”
“But he doesn’t have hands.”
“You’re in good hooves, then.” Fighting a smile, he shook his head. The dizzying thoughts were back in his head again. The ones that said beware and go for it, all at the same time. He still wasn’t sure which instinct to follow, but looking at Rosaline, he couldn’t help leaning toward the go-for-it idea.
***
Bryson turned his horse to check on Rosaline. Her cheeks were wind-whipped, and the sun was almost down, the sky purple behind her. During their ride, they hadn’t had much chance to talk, but he’d enjoyed trotting next to her, listening to her laugh or give a nervous squeal as she figured out how to ride. I wish the barn wasn’t so close already.
Rosaline nudged Ace with her heels, steering the horse closer to him and Chester. “So what were you doing the last few days? I thought maybe I’d scared you away.”
A foreign sensation that felt suspiciously like happiness wound through him. “You missed me?”
“You know I’m starving for social interaction.”
Bryson pulled back on the reins, slowing Chester down. “I had to go to the office in Wichita and help hire a new manager. Trust me, I’d rather be here.” With
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