Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Sage

Bash is waiting for me in the kitchen on the morning of his day off. Judging from his damp hair and flushed features, he's been awake for a while and has already gotten in a workout.

"Hey, darlin'." I stand on my toes and kiss his cheek while holding onto his arm for support. "I wondered why I woke up alone."

"Because I had things to do, darlin'." Bash tries to recreate my accent, and we both crack up, because it really doesn't work. "I made some calls. Are you ready for a surprise?"

I rock back on my heels. "Hmm. I feel like I need to be prepared for this surprise."

He laughs and wraps one arm around my waist to pull me close and kiss my temple. "That's not traditionally how surprises work."

"Sure, but surprises aren't…" I swallow the lump in my throat. Rationally, I know that Bash's ‘surprise' isn't going to be the revelation that he's been banging another girl from the rodeo circuit—it helps that he doesn't know anyone from the rodeo circuit—but I still find myself thinking of Trevor. How my attempt to surprise him led to my future getting yanked out from under me.

Bash is waiting for me to finish, so I blurt, "Surprises aren't really my thing. I'd feel more comfortable if you'd tell me what's going on."

He doesn't push back the way Trevor would have. He just nods. "Okay. If this makes you happy. Today, we're going horseback riding."

"We are?" I've missed my horses while I've been out here. I know Mom has everything handled at home, and she'd tell me if anything was wrong, but I suddenly ache with the desire to rub Sky's velvety nose and feed her peppermints from my palm. Homesickness surges through my system, and I wish… I want…

What? To go home? Because on one hand, I'm not ready for this to be over, but on the other, I miss Montana so badly that it makes my stomach cramp just to think of it. I understand what it's like to love more than one thing deeply.

I swallow my emotions and study Bash instead. "You're going to ride horses dressed like that?"

Bash looks down at his polo and slacks. "Yes?"

I cover my mouth to hide my smile. "Are you trying to make a good impression on the horse?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're a tad overdressed."

"Ah." I can see the flush creeping up Bash's neck to his cheeks. "I admit, I have never done this before. What should I wear instead?"

"Let me see what you've got." I head back to the stairs, wondering what Bash has in his closet that might be suitable.

I'm halfway up the steps when the doorbell rings. Bash goes to answer it while I complete my climb. I'm strangely nervous about this plan, not because I'm worried about getting back in the saddle, but because Bash has no idea what he's doing. I want to make this a good experience for him, and I want him to love riding as much as I do. What if he hates horses? As much as I'm falling for him, that would be a deal breaker. Horses aren't just a passion or a hobby, they've been my whole heart for my entire life and my family legacy for generations.

Not that it matters. This is only temporary; in fact, it's probably going to be easier to go our separate ways if I acknowledge that this could never work.

I'm standing in front of his closet, perusing my options, but the floor creaks behind me.

"I think I know what we're going to wear," he says.

"What?" I turn to find Bash holding a large pink box with the brand name The Pink Boot emblazoned in curlicues on the side. "Oh my gosh, did you order this?"

"No." Bash sets it on the bed. I tear into it with gusto and clap my hands when I see the contents: it's a whole new outfit for Bash, complete with boots.

"How…?" I lift out the boots and find a notecard atop the folded shirt. The note answers the question I have yet to ask. Apparently, this is a gift from Julie, although I'm sure the money came from Dante's account. I squeal and hold the shirt up to Bash's chest. "You've got to try this on."

Julie must have Bash's measurements because the clothes are a perfect fit. Seeing Bash naked is nothing to scoff at. Seeing Bash in form-fitting Wranglers and a yoked button-down is… oof. I want to ride something, all right.

"Okay, we're sharing this on a live," I announce. "You look amazing. The people need to see this."

"It's so stiff, though." Bash tries to do squats and fails miserably. "How does anyone ride a horse like this?"

I giggle at his antics. My earlier anxiety is a thing of the past. Today's shaping up to be a great day. "Normally, we wash them first. Unfortunately, we don't have time for that. You'll break them in. I'm going to go get changed, and we'll head out, okay?"

"What about the livestream?" Bash asks, trailing me back to the first floor.

"Oh, we'll stream, all right. But I want to capture the look on your face the first time you climb onto a horse."

* * *

The stable is beautiful, perfectly maintained, with pristine grounds and contented residents. I film Bash's reaction to the space, catching his nerves on camera.

"Riding horses in the fresh air," I sigh. "We're going to my version of church."

"Does this church serve alcohol?" Bash dances away from a chicken that has taken an interest in his boots.

"No, but it serves humility by the bucketload."

He pouts. "Just promise me you won't laugh."

"I make no such promises. I will, however, pinky-swear not to mock you or set you up for failure."

Bash accepts this compromise with a nod. "Fair enough."

"You know," Bash muses, "you could board your horse here."

"Why would I—?" I begin before my brain catches up with me. The unspoken words settle between us: if I stay. It's mighty tempting. This beautiful stable in the desert could make a fantastic home for Sky… if I fail to save her real home.

Nope. Uh-uh. Not happening. Failure is not an option.

I'm still reeling from this reality check when the barn manager comes over to greet us. I sign off the live and shake her hand warmly.

"Nice to meet you," she says. Her long brown hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, and I can smell hay on her even before she reaches me. Lordy, I missed that smell. "I'm Catie. I hear you're a horse girl."

"Sure am. My family has a ranch in Montana." And don't you forget it, girl , I remind myself.

"And you…" Catie turns to Bash and can't quite hide her skepticism at his attire. Plenty of people see new clothes and fancy brands and immediately assume that whoever's wearing them is somebody important. In the world of horses, though, posh guys in new brand-name clothes advertise themselves as greenhorns. Horse people can be uppity and exclusive—given how much people spend on their equine partners, you have to have cash on hand to invest in even a single animal—but I'm glad to see that Catie's not like that.

"You're new," she finishes after a long pause.

Bash nods. "Very new and very nervous."

Catie relaxes fractionally. At least Bash is starting out humble rather than trying to prove something. "We'll put you on a couple of our beginner-friendly trail-riding horses. They know the area."

I cringe inwardly. Some places break in their trail-riding horses in a way that breaks their spirits, or else gets them so used to the terrain that they move through it on autopilot. The former disgusts me. The latter is better, but it takes all the fun out of a ride.

Catie catches my expression. "Don't worry, you'll have a good time. I'll put you on Daisy, since you know what you're doing. He'll be on Thunder, who is…"

"A husband-horse?" I offer.

Catie smirks.

"Husband-horse?" Bash asks, looking between us. "Is he the husband, or am I the husband?"

Catie saves me the trouble of explaining. "A lot of our female trail riders come in with some experience, but their husbands…" She lifts one hand and tilts it from side to side. "Not so much. Thunder's one of the horses we feel comfortable putting them on."

"A beginner horse," I clarify.

Bash nods again. "Yes, this is what I want. Horse training wheels, please."

"Well, come on, then, and we'll introduce you." Catie waves for him to follow, and Bash trots along in her wake like an oversized puppy. I take the chance to snap a photo of his ass in those tight jeans and text it to Flossie. She texts back with a string of peach emojis.

Daisy turns out to be a fat, no-nonsense pony. One look at her clever eyes and swiveling ears, and I can tell she's going to test me. Thunder, by contrast, is a stocky black-and-white gelding who barely moves when Bash approaches. Whipping out my phone, I set up a TikTok live. Thunder doesn't sidestep when Bash makes his first ill-fated attempt to climb into the saddle.

Or his second.

Or his third.

Eventually, Catie brings Thunder over to a mounting block, and Bash finally flings himself into the saddle. It is not a graceful movement. Only then do I mount Daisy, despite her attempts to shy away from me.

By the time he settles in, I start to wonder if horses have gone extinct in Canada because you would think he'd never even seen one.

Bash applauds. "You made it look so easy!"

"Hold onto the reins," Catie scolds.

"Oh, right." Bash takes them and holds them but doesn't do anything else. He sits on Thunder's back with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. This might be the first and only time I've thought he wasn't hot as hell just by looking at him.

Catie shakes her head at him. "Sage, if you take the lead, Thunder will follow you. Maybe you can give Bash a few pointers on how to correct his posture?"

"I've got this," I promise.

After signing off my live video, we spend a few minutes in the barn while I show Bash how to shift his weight and give basic commands. When I'm confident that Thunder is as docile as promised, and that Bash has a basic understanding of what he's supposed to do, I direct them both to the trail Catie pointed out, leading toward the red rocks.

Daisy makes a few attempts to establish control, including darting to one side of the trail or the other to graze on tasty fresh growth. Once she realizes that I know what I'm doing, however, she lets out a sigh and lets me set the pace.

Bash is still rolling from side to side with Thunder's steps.

"Relax your body," I urge. "Feel the horse's movements. Be at one with the equine. It's just like having sex, Bash, and we both know you don't have any issues there."

"I'm feeling something, all right. Mostly fear." Bash grips the reins for dear life, for all the good it will do him.

"You don't need to be afraid. Just relax. Work with him. He's an animal, not a machine. He'll respond to your body language. Trust him."

He tries, but I'm not sure it's working.

The trail follows the fences for a while until we reach an open patch of land. It's a beautiful day, not too hot, and the desert sky is a vast and cloudless expanse of blue. Without thinking, I urge Daisy faster, as I often do when riding with Flossie.

I don't realize my mistake until I hear Bash scream. " Sacrebleu! Au secours! "

I look over my shoulder and discover that Thunder, who has been perfectly composed so far, is very excited about galloping. Daisy is enjoying her gallop, but Thunder has longer legs, and he soon overtakes us. I can tell from his body language that the horse isn't afraid and that he's delighted at this little taste of freedom. His stride is steady and even.

His rider, on the other hand, is panicking.

"Bash, hang on!" I try to guide Daisy closer to Thunder and dig my heels into her sides, but as her pace increases, so does Thunder's. He's far enough ahead of me now that I can't catch the reins. Thunder makes no attempt to throw Bash but given the way the poor man is being jostled around, his lack of balance might bring him down all on his own. He's like a tree swaying in a windstorm.

Remembering what Catie said in the barn, I try another tactic, and rein Daisy in.

She fights me a little at first, but as before, when I don't let up, she slows. By the time she comes to a stop, Thunder is already slowing to a canter and then a walk. He circles back toward us, head and tail lifted proudly, as if to say, ‘That was fun. Did you see how well I did?'

Bash is still clinging to his neck, with his legs clamped tight around Thunder's middle. The way his heels are digging into the horse's sides makes me glad that Thunder is more interested in what Daisy is doing than in Bash's mixed signals.

"Sorry." I reach out to catch Thunder's reins at last, and both horses come to a standstill, their sides heaving with the exertion of the run. "I wasn't thinking, that was entirely my fault…"

Bash slowly sits upright in the saddle. Sweat is pouring down his forehead, and his eyes bulge. "I saw my whole life flash before my eyes. It was mostly hockey and poutine. Then TicTacs started pouring down like orange rain."

I let out a snort of laughter. "Sounds like you're okay now, though?"

"I survived." Bash pats Thunder's neck. "I think… I think that was fun, but I was too scared to realize it at the time."

"Really?" I grin and release Thunder's reins.

"Really. Maybe we could try again, but… not so fast?"

"Okay," I say. "If you're sure. But shout if you change your mind, or we go too fast."

Bash nods, and I urge the horses to a walk, then to a canter. Bash is much more relaxed this time, and while he isn't perfectly in sync with Thunder's movements, I can see that they're working together now, rather than against each other.

When we turn back to the stables, Bash is sunburned and grinning. "I see why you like this so much."

"So, what's the verdict? Ready to trade your hockey stick for a lasso?"

Bash shakes his head. "No. But I would do it again."

I bite the inside of my cheek and turn away. Things are getting too serious too fast. I'm afraid that if I stay long enough for us to go on another ride together, we'll be in too deep.

"Thank you so much for making this happen," I tell Bash. "It means a lot to me that you'd try something that scares you just because you know how happy it makes me."

Bash runs one hand along Thunder's sturdy neck. "Anytime. Life's more thrilling with you. Even when it's terrifying."