Page 9

“You want to get some exercise?”

She blinks, and I take that as a yes. Taking down her lead rope, I open her door and slide in carefully. She’s halter trained and pretty good at being led around, but she’s not perfect, so I move carefully in her stall. Gently, I let her sniff my hand before I run it down her neck, letting her get used to me before clipping the lead on. She’s feeling agreeable this morning, because she follows me out of the barn and into the back paddock without protest. I let her go and stand back while she trots in a circle.

Maybe I haven’t started breaking her because I love how free she is. I’ll never be that free, not with this ranch hanging over my head. It’s a confusing thing to grapple with; I love this land so much. I don’t want to leave, but I would do anything for a break, a chance to stretch my wings.

“Hey.”

I whip around, and Rosie skids to a halt. Coen stands behind me, one lean arm resting on the fence. He’s in the same clothes as last night: a creased black t-shirt and dark jeans. Last night, I was looking everywhere but at him. Today, I give myself the luxury of giving him a thorough once-over. He’s lean and well-muscled—very nice arms and lean hands, I assume from playing guitar. His face rests in sober lines, a nice mouth surrounded by a neatly trimmed beard. I like the strong, narrow arch of his nose, a bump in the middle. It’s the softness of his dark eyes that really makes me stop and stare, though.

I swallow. I’m staring for too long. He gives me a slow smile, and I have to blink a couple times to keep myself from getting caught up in it.

“Hi, sorry, you startled me,” I say, clearing my throat. “You sleep alright?”

He nods, eyes on Rosie. “Yeah, it’s real quiet out here.”

“Yes, it is.”

He doesn’t move. I’m not sure why he does this, sitting in silence.

“Uh…that’s your horse?” He gestures at Rosie.

I nod. “She’s not broken, though. I keep meaning to work with her, but with Dad retired, I don’t have the time anymore. Mostly we take out the older horses, Gabe and Samson.”

He moves to the gate. “You mind if I come in?”

“No, that’s fine.”

My heart picks up. I don’t know why. He comes in, and, suddenly, he’s right beside me, tall and handsome. He watches as Rosie moseys for a minute, then gives a combustive kick and starts trotting in circles again. She always gets zoomies in the morning.

“She seems like a good horse,” he says finally.

I nod, giving him a polite smile.

“Can I?” He gestures toward the lead in my hand.

My brows rise. “You know how to work with horses?”

He laughs, a short sound. “Yeah, it’s been a while, but I can work with horses.”

I pass the lead to him, and he coils it in one hand, making his way sideways around the paddock. He doesn’t go directly to her, nor does he make eye contact. Instead, he saunters like he has all the time in the world. Rosie goes still, waiting. When he doesn’t go to her, she gets impatient and starts walking hesitantly over to him. He finally turns to her and stays where he is. She throws her head, like she’s trying to get him to come closer. When he doesn’t, she gives up and sidles over to sniff his shoulder.

He puts his hand on her neck and pets her in a gentle stroke. I like how careful he is with everything.

I smile. “She wants to like you, I think.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling.

Rosie sniffs his shoulder, and he puts his hand on her nose. They stay like that for a while, him petting her. Then, she pulls away abruptly and skids to the other side of the paddock. He shakes his head, coming back over.

“She’s feisty,” he says. “But I don’t think it’d be hard to train her. You want me to help?”

I’m taken aback. “You’re not how I thought you’d be,” I blurt out without meaning to.

“Why? Did you think I was going to roll up here like Elvis or something?”

Yes, but now that sounds silly. I shade my eyes.

“Maybe.”