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There. Not the confident, completely-in-control Scarlett I pep-talked myself into being, but it will do.
He eyes my bandaged hand. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” Nope.
“Because you don’t seem so sure.”
I straighten my shoulders anyway. “I’ll be okay.” It’s better than option one.
“Your call.”
When he turns, the fluttering takes a quick break and is interrupted by a flurry of dread.
Ugh.
There is another option—I could just refuse the ride all together so I’m not leaving here with a broken ass and a broken hand.
You’re in control, remember? You have a say.
But as I watch him saunter into the stable and roll up his sleeves, I also remember there’s a place he wants to show me. And that’s why I’m here—to find whatever I can for the article. To get an inside look.
So, despite my unease with horses, I get my ‘stubborn ass’ in gear and follow him inside.
When I pass the threshold, the familiar aroma of hay and horse-poop punch me square in the jaw. I scrunch my nose and pick up the pace. Jake is already at the other end. He’s stroking the nose of a black horse, so flawless and shiny it almost doesn’t look real, and someone hurries past him with a saddle to get it ready. Jake then points to the stall behind him and says something about getting that horse ready, as well. Butterscotch, I think he says.
My eyes immediately search for the animal inside, but it’s not until I’m closer to Jake that I see it.
And she’s beautiful.
Blonde coat. Dark brown mane. Her chocolate eyes are bright and alert. I think she knows what’s coming because she blows through her nostrils and excitedly dips her head, her mane fluttering against her neck.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, ole boy?” Jake says to his horse, almost a whisper. Like they’re the only two in the barn. A private conversation between long lost friends.
A lengthy minute later, he acknowledges me, but his attention stays on the horse. “That one’s yours,” he says, motioning over his shoulder.
I step in her direction, watching her as she watches me. Up close, she’s a lot taller than I first thought. Then again, I’m fairly short.
My stomach clenches.
That’s a long way to fall.
Better start making good with her now.
Tentatively, slowly, I make my way in her direction and hold my breath every step of the way. Before the tips of my booties meet the stall door, I stop and lift my hand to stroke along her neck.
Exhale.
She softly jerks her head away.
I jerk back too.
We continue to stare at each other, wary and watchful. And I try again. This time, she allows my fingertips to brush over her mane. Down her silky neck. Back up to her mane, and the muscles along my shoulders release by the time I start stoking the bridge of her nose. She’s allowing me into her space, which is an incredibly good sign.
“Hi there, pretty girl,” I say, and I manage a smile.
She blows through her nose in response, but not aggressively. Almost…friendly. “Hi,” I say again, my lips pulling wider.
“Butterscotch,” Jake confirms reverently behind me.
“Butterscotch,” I repeat, and withdraw my hand. Shove it into my back pocket. Maybe this won’t be as scary as I thought. Then again, I haven’t mounted her yet.
The stable hand breezes into her stall with another saddle to get her ready.
I swallow hard.
When I turn to face Jake, he’s already headed toward his saddled horse.
I turn back to mine.
Well…here goes nothing, Butterscotch. Please don’t break me.
