19. Claire
19
CLAIRE
T echnically, I’m not breaking the rules.
I’m just reading.
I take my book out to the stables and I find a flat bench to sit on. The sounds of ranch hands and horses are a nice white noise as I turn the pages. It’s a beautiful day, and the sunlight warms my bare calves under my dress.
It’s a cute, buttercream dress with tiny flowers stitched in, that I’m wearing for no one but myself.
There’s a thump beside me, and then a hissing sound. I glance to my left. My water bottle is gone.
Another thump and hiss on my other side. Now, my purse has vanished.
There’s a thwip! And before I know it, I’m caught. I glance down. There’s a rope wrapped around my middle, trapping my arms to my sides.
I push my grin into a frown. I twist around. Ransom’s on the other end of the rope, sitting across on the way. My water bottle and purse are at his feet.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” I tell him.
“I am.”
I wiggle out from the rope. I walk over to where he’s sitting and join him. “Looks like you’re just sitting.”
“I’m observing. There’s a difference.”
I force myself to keep my eyes on the horse in front of us. It’s too tempting to stare at him. That messy mane of rust-colored hair. Those strong arms. Those deep, brown eyes that seem to reach inside me every time they meet my own.
“What are you observing?” I ask him.
He sighs. “A stud that won’t stud.”
The horse flicks his ear, as though he knows we’re talking about him.
“Have you tried X-rated horse films?”
“That ain’t the problem.”
“What’s the problem?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ransom’s mouth thin. “He’s not happy. Look at him. He’s a king in a cage.” Suddenly, Ransom gets to his feet. There’s a saddle hanging on the wall and he takes it off. He goes into the pen and starts lacing the horse up.
I stand. “What are you doing?”
“You ever see them train racing horses?” Ransom says. “They run them. Constantly. Every day. Since Chaucer’s been here, he’s barely left the stable. They said he was done. He isn’t. Far as he knows, he’s still a race horse in his prime. Ready to go. We’re going to get his mojo back.” Ransom glances over at me. “You coming?”
Anxiety slides down my back, sharp, like a blade. “I can’t.”
But then he grins. That same sly, crooked smile that makes an otherwise intelligent girl like me jump off bridges. “Sure you can.”
I bite my lip. “Fuck it.”
Ransom grins. He gets Chaucer’s saddle on, then walks him out of the stable. He holds out his hand to me. “Ladies first.”
I’m not in horse-riding clothes. A dress was the wrong move. I hike my dress up and grip the saddle. Ransom’s strong arms find my back and my rear as he hoists me up. I settle into the saddle and Ransom hops on, swinging his legs behind me.
Chaucer is bigger than Calypso. Strong. I can feel the strength of this powerful animal between my thighs.
It’s a rush.
Ransom’s arms reach around me to take hold of the reins. It feels strange to give up the reins. Good-strange. Like I might not let anyone else…but I feel safe with Ransom leading the way.
“We’re gonna go fast,” Ransom says. His body is flat on my back. When he speaks into my ear, his breath tickles my skin. “You okay with that?”
I nudge my elbow into his stomach. “I can handle it.”
He lets out a breathy chuckle in my ear. And then—“ Ha! ”
Chaucer takes off. A couple ranch hands by the door have to scramble out of the way as we burst from the barn.
We race through the property. Chaucer zips around the barns. I tense as we approach the fence bordering the ranch and Ransom’s arm tightens around my middle, keeping me safe as Chaucer leaps, clearing it.
Now, there’s nothing but tall grass for miles. Hooves pound the dirt, my legs clamp around this beast, and I hear the heavy, animal breaths underneath me.
My heart is kicking in my chest.
I’ve never been this fast on a horse before .
I can’t help it. A tickle starts in the core of my belly and then climbs my chest. Someone’s laughing and it takes a second to realize— it’s me .
The wind whips through my hair, hooves pound the ground, and I can’t stop laughing.