Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I thought about Hank all the time, but I sure as fuck wouldn’t text that to a guy. I wanted to see him again, if only to test this out and see if it was a fluke, a dream, a one-off, never-to-be-repeated anomaly. I had a feeling he was waiting for me to make the next move, and fuck, that didn’t come naturally. I sweated over what to say, typing and deleting messages till my fingers cramped.
This morning, I’d finally settled on, I’m in town this weekend. Can I see your horse?
The dark-chestnut horse whinnied as she meandered to the fence. She bent her head and leaned into Hank, grazing his shoulder as if in greeting. Hank flashed a wide, toothy grin, petting her neck affectionately.
“Hello, beautiful. I brought you presents, and I have someone I want you to meet. Be nice to him. He’s a little”—Hank’s Stetson tipped, sending a shadow across his handsome face as he whispered into the horse’s ear loud enough for me to hear—“skittish.”
True. I was very skittish. Bess was a regal-looking beast with a beautiful chestnut coat and a white patch between her eyes and nose, but damn, she was huge.
I bristled anyway. “I’m not. She’s just…big.”
Hank pretended to cover the horse’s ears. “I’m sorry, sugar. That’s no way to talk to a lady…or anyone. I know it. I’ll give him a piece of my mind. Don’t you worry.”
I barked a laugh. “I meant tall and enormous…all over.”
“Rotten to the core he is,” he drawled mournfully. “Let’s give him some slack, though. He hasn’t spent much time in the company of a real lady like yourself. Come closer and say hi, Denny.”
“Hey, Bess.” I inched forward and waved like an idiot.
“You don’t expect her to give you a high five, do you?”
I shot him an annoyed glance and copied him, running my hand along the horse’s side, skimming her mane with my fingertips. Bess allowed the attention with a sort of bored air for a minute or so, then dipped her neck, jostling my baseball cap off my head on the upswing. The sudden movement made me jolt, much to Hank’s amusement.
“Fuck you,” I huffed without heat, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “Sorry for the language, Bess. Your owner is a dick.”
Hank chuckled. “I promise you, she’s a gentle soul. She’s playful, too. Here. The best way to make friends is with food. Want to give her a carrot?”
“No, thanks. I need my hands to hold my stick. If she takes a bite out of me instead of the carrot, I’m toast.”
Hank grinned, pulling a carrot from his pocket and feeding it to the horse. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be this nervous.”
“I’m not nervous. I’m just…cautious.”
“Hmm.”
I studied the horse and owner for a moment, their heads bent as Hank stroked her muzzle and fed her treats, whispering sweet nothings. I didn’t have to know anything about animals to know they had a strong bond. Hank’s voice was calming, his hands sure and soothing. Honestly, I was a twinge jealous of Bess. I would have loved to have his hands all over me.
Christ, look at him. Hank could have stepped right off that billboard in his form-fitted jeans, leather jacket, and yes…that fucking hat. I tore my gaze away to avoid embarrassing myself in front of Bess and scanned the fields surrounding the Cunningham ranch and the majestic mountains in the distance.
Yellow wildflowers and daffodils popped through the patches of grass interspersed with traces of snow, dotting the vista in gold and green till it met the blue horizon. A few other horses were in the paddock adjacent to a big red barn, and beyond that was a copse of trees leading to a sprawling ranch house.
It was peaceful and serene, like Elmwood…minus the Rocky Mountain backdrop.
“Do you live here?” I asked.
“No, I have a condo nearby.” He tilted the brim of his hat and glanced toward the house. “It was a nice place to grow up, though. My brother and sister and me used to run wild, playing hide-and-seek, fishing with homemade rods, and riding horses down deserted country lanes with a posse of cousins and school friends. It’s weird that it’s so quiet now. Everyone is gone but my dad.”
“How’s he doing?”
Hank shrugged. “Same. He’s…mercurial. Cranky some days, weirdly pleasant other days.”
“Weirdly? Is he usually cranky?”
“Nowadays, yes. Not when I was a kid, though. He was a lumberjack superhero, a rock god, and a cool action star all wrapped in one. I idolized him. I thought he could do no wrong.” Hank’s lips tugged at the corner. “The real truth is that he’s kind of an ass, but it was a sweet illusion at a time we needed it most.”
“What do you mean?”
“My mom died when I was five, and Dad just…made things okay when they weren’t. He stepped up, spent time with each of us individually and together. My brother loved football.” Hank pointed at the field. “You’d see them out there tossing a ball around for hours. My sister was a theater kid. He helped her recite lines and of course, we went to all of her plays.”