should step away from Trip before someone saw whatever this was passing between them, yet she couldnât force her body to move.
Tripâs tongue swept over his bottom lip and her eyes immediately drew down, wondering if they felt as full as she remembered. Wondering how they would feel now. She shuddered and turned back to the horse, who walked around like he wasnât sure about anything at all. Emery could relate.
She took another few steps toward him, watching for his reaction, waiting until he calmed, then took another few steps, and then she stood right beside him, listening to his breathing.
Emery closed her eyes and gingerly reached out her hand . . .
Â
Tripâs insides coiled up like a rattler, every fiber in him screaming for him to step between the colt and Emery. He didnât know this horse, couldnât predict his responses. Heâd almost kicked in Clarkâs face, for Christâs sake, and now, here was Emery, five foot nothing, tiny and meek, her bodyâs weight resting on that black cane of hers. He still couldnât make sense of her using it when she very clearly didnât need it. But need was a very subjective thing.
Time slowed down as he watched her extend her hand to the horse, her palm out flat, reassuring. He held his breath, telling himself to stay put, despite everything in him screaming that he should intercept. But then her hand was flush against the colt, holding there, not moving, just rising and falling with the horseâs breaths. It was the most beautiful thing heâd ever seen, and for the first time in his life, he questioned his own ability. No one had touched that horse without him flinching. Until now. It was like Craving Wind remembered Emery, cared for her. This was different than the standard rider-horse relationship. Trip just couldnât decide if different was a good thing or a very dangerous one.
He gave Emery another five minutes alone with the horse, watching as her mouth moved in hushed whispers, appreciating how quickly theyâd reconnectedâtheir bond undeniable. Damn, how did he allow himself to get in this situation? Emery was injured. Even if he hired her, he couldnât put her with this colt, who by all accounts was expected to become a champion. He needed an experienced rider to get him there, and Emery hadnât been in a race in years. Clearly, Trip was losing his mind. He shook his head and released a breath, forcing the trainer in him to return.
âI have other horses to show you,â Trip said as he approached her.
âI donât want another horse.â
âWell, I refuse to let you ride this one.â
She dropped her hand from Craving Wind, and the look on her face nearly broke his will. Like she was losing her best friend, like she was losing herself. âI told you, you donât have to pay me. Just let me ride.â She lowered her eyes, and he knew she was trying to rein in her emotions. âI can do this.â Her watery gaze returned to his.
He swallowed hard, wishing heâd never invited her here in the first place, but at the same time, he didnât want her to leave. The feelings that had settled over him since she arrived couldnât be ignored. He enjoyed being around her, enjoyed listening to her voice and watching her with Craving Wind. Still . . . âI can get you back on a mount. Just not this mount.â
Emery spun to face him. âWhy?â
There were a thousand answers to that question, all of them more important than the last, but maybe the truest answer of all was that he didnât trust her. A part of him wanted to, but that part was also the one urging him to forget that eight years had passed and pull her into his arms. He couldnât depend on that side of himself right now, which only left the sensible side, and anyone with good sense would laugh at the idea of putting Emery on Craving Wind. He would prove to be a champion. Trip could
Tripâs tongue swept over his bottom lip and her eyes immediately drew down, wondering if they felt as full as she remembered. Wondering how they would feel now. She shuddered and turned back to the horse, who walked around like he wasnât sure about anything at all. Emery could relate.
She took another few steps toward him, watching for his reaction, waiting until he calmed, then took another few steps, and then she stood right beside him, listening to his breathing.
Emery closed her eyes and gingerly reached out her hand . . .
Â
Tripâs insides coiled up like a rattler, every fiber in him screaming for him to step between the colt and Emery. He didnât know this horse, couldnât predict his responses. Heâd almost kicked in Clarkâs face, for Christâs sake, and now, here was Emery, five foot nothing, tiny and meek, her bodyâs weight resting on that black cane of hers. He still couldnât make sense of her using it when she very clearly didnât need it. But need was a very subjective thing.
Time slowed down as he watched her extend her hand to the horse, her palm out flat, reassuring. He held his breath, telling himself to stay put, despite everything in him screaming that he should intercept. But then her hand was flush against the colt, holding there, not moving, just rising and falling with the horseâs breaths. It was the most beautiful thing heâd ever seen, and for the first time in his life, he questioned his own ability. No one had touched that horse without him flinching. Until now. It was like Craving Wind remembered Emery, cared for her. This was different than the standard rider-horse relationship. Trip just couldnât decide if different was a good thing or a very dangerous one.
He gave Emery another five minutes alone with the horse, watching as her mouth moved in hushed whispers, appreciating how quickly theyâd reconnectedâtheir bond undeniable. Damn, how did he allow himself to get in this situation? Emery was injured. Even if he hired her, he couldnât put her with this colt, who by all accounts was expected to become a champion. He needed an experienced rider to get him there, and Emery hadnât been in a race in years. Clearly, Trip was losing his mind. He shook his head and released a breath, forcing the trainer in him to return.
âI have other horses to show you,â Trip said as he approached her.
âI donât want another horse.â
âWell, I refuse to let you ride this one.â
She dropped her hand from Craving Wind, and the look on her face nearly broke his will. Like she was losing her best friend, like she was losing herself. âI told you, you donât have to pay me. Just let me ride.â She lowered her eyes, and he knew she was trying to rein in her emotions. âI can do this.â Her watery gaze returned to his.
He swallowed hard, wishing heâd never invited her here in the first place, but at the same time, he didnât want her to leave. The feelings that had settled over him since she arrived couldnât be ignored. He enjoyed being around her, enjoyed listening to her voice and watching her with Craving Wind. Still . . . âI can get you back on a mount. Just not this mount.â
Emery spun to face him. âWhy?â
There were a thousand answers to that question, all of them more important than the last, but maybe the truest answer of all was that he didnât trust her. A part of him wanted to, but that part was also the one urging him to forget that eight years had passed and pull her into his arms. He couldnât depend on that side of himself right now, which only left the sensible side, and anyone with good sense would laugh at the idea of putting Emery on Craving Wind. He would prove to be a champion. Trip could
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