Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
From the time I was able to sit up straight, I was on a horse. I was on them with my father, uncle, cousins—if they were going on the horse, I wanted on with them too. There was something about getting on a wild horse and showing her how she could trust you. How you could tame her. Apparently, I had a gift, and that was it. From when I was ten, I think, they took me with them when they received the horses. I would help guide them into their new stable and pick a couple to train. I knew this was what I wanted to do. The bar sort of fell into my lap. My grandmother used to own it but then passed it to Amelia, but then she was thinking of selling it. So my sister, Aubrey, and I decided to buy it and expand. She takes care of the big one while I run the smaller one, which is where I met Zara.
I walk into the stall my horse is in, grabbing his reins. “How are we doing today?” I ask him as I walk with him out to the field.
“Don’t know what you did last night,” Charlie says, “but you are definitely walking lighter.” They all laugh, but my Uncle Casey just eyes me. There is no smile on his face but a look that says he’s watching me.
I put my foot in my stirrup before mounting my boy. “We have a long day, boys.” I look at them. “Time to work and not think about what I’ve been doing with my balls.”
“The question is,” my father ponders, coming beside me on his own horse, “who have you been doing?”
I look down at the reins in my hands. “You should know, Dad, a gentleman never tells.” I smirk, before giving my boy a little kick.
13
ZARA
I slide on the black pair of tights before grabbing the white bra and then the thick knitted turtleneck sweater that fits just a bit past the hem of my tights. I slide on a pair of white socks while the phone rings from beside me on the bed. Sofia’s name pops up with the picture of her and RC, their baby boy, who is named Reed Cooper, but we call him RC. “Hey,” I answer.
“Please, for the love of everything that is golden,” she starts, and I can’t help but laugh at some of her expressions, “tell me you did not, will not, sleep with Gabriel.”
I gasp out in shock. “What?”
“He called me not too long ago and wanted your number.” I close my eyes, and if he was here in front of me, I’d kick him in the shin. She whispers, “Zara.”
I close my eyes. “It’s nothing.”
She immediately groans, “Why? How? He just came to give you a key?”
I try not to laugh at her. “It sort of happened before that.”
“You’ve been there for a week.”
“It happened the first day I got here,” I mumble, hoping she isn’t going to catch it, but she does.
“Shut up.” I can hear her hand hitting some counter. “You are going to need to explain this a little bit more.”
“I got here, and Zoey was all ‘go live your best life,’” I mimic her, “‘go do things you wouldn’t do in New York.’” I roll my eyes. “YOLO at life.” I make up the last bit. “So I went to this bar and well…”
“He was behind the bar.”
“He was, and I was like, damn, he is fine,” I sing, “and then he refused to let me drive home because I was drinking, so he said he would drive me home.”
“And you were going to let a stranger drive you home?” Her tone is telling me that was dumb.
“It’s the South. Everyone knows everyone,” I play it off. “Anyway, you’ll be happy to know he never drove me home.” My voice goes down. “We had sex in the office, and then I sort of—” I think about how to say this. “Left when he was sleeping.”
“Holy shit.”
“Anyway.” I ignore her gasp. “I saw him at the Christmas fair, and he was with his son and…”
“Patricia.” She fills in her name for me, and the back of my neck heats.
“Yeah, and I thought he was married, so again, I got the fuck out of Dodge.” I take a deep inhale. “And then he showed up, and I was like ‘you’re a lying jerk’ and then he was like ‘you left me.’” She groans. “And he made me breakfast and left.”
“He made you breakfast and left.” She repeats the last part. “You are supposed to be there to find yourself again.”
“I came to get away from things.”
“Away from things, not under things,” she hisses.
“I wasn’t always under. I was on top a couple of times,” I snap, and she fake vomits.