Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Oh no. No, no, no.” I slowed my pace as Jenn led us toward the stables, the scent of hay and horse already making my nose twitch. “I don’t do animals.”
Yeti barked, as if to remind me she was there and could hear me.
“Except you, Yeti. You don’t smell. As much.”
As soon as I stepped into the stable, a massive brown head poked out over one of the stall doors, lips flapping as the horse nickered. I jumped back, bumping into Noah’s chest. After he steadied me, I quickly stepped away, trying to keep up with Jenn as she walked down the aisle.
“This big fellow here is Duke.” Jenn patted the brown horse’s neck. “He’s our gentle giant. Used to be a show horse in Denver until he got too old and his owner abandoned him.”
Duke’s liquid brown eyes fixed on me as he stretched his neck out, nostrils flaring.
“He’s just saying hello,” Jenn chuckled. “Here. Let him smell your hand.”
I shot Noah a panicked look, but he just crossed his arms, face still neutral. Taking a deep breath, I held my hand out. Duke’s whiskers tickled my palm.
“Over here we have Pepper.” Jenn moved to a dappled grey horse. “She’s got attitude, but knows these trails better than anyone. And this is Scout. He’s our newest addition. Former ranch horse who needed a quieter life.”
We stopped at a stall housing a copper-colored horse with a white stripe down its face. He had his head hung low, dozing in the afternoon sun.
“And this is Biscuit. He’s steady, patient, and smooth as butter on the trails.” Biscuit lifted his head, ears pricked forward with interest. Unlike Duke’s overwhelming size or Pepper’s sharp gaze, something about Biscuit’s gentle demeanor put me at ease.
“He won’t bite?” I asked.
“Biscuit? He’s more likely to fall asleep on the trail than cause any trouble,” said Jenn. “Been teaching kids to ride for years.”
Biscuit took a few steps forward, stretching his neck to sniff at my shoulder. His breath was warm against my neck, and I found myself reaching up to touch his soft nose before I could stop myself.
“I think he likes you,” said Jenn. “And he’s perfect for beginners.”
“I’m not a beginner. I’m a never-er. I’ve never been on a horse, and I don’t plan to start now.”
“Well, too bad for you, because you don’t really have a choice,” said Noah, his grumpiness dialed back up to a ten. “You weren’t the only one who got a call from Victoria, apparently.”
“What’s he talking about?”
The smile slipped from Jenn’s face. She walked over to a soft-sided cooler waiting on a hay bale. There was a LuxeLife logo embroidered on the side in fancy gold lettering. “Maya dropped this off this morning.”
“What are we supposed to do with that?” I asked.
Jenn patted the cooler bag. “There’s a very expensive-looking bottle of champagne in there. Seems you and Noah are expected to do a LuxeLife toast when you get to the top of the mountain.” She wrinkled her nose. “When Maya dropped it off, she made it clear it wasn’t optional.”
“A LuxeLife toast? To what exactly?”
“Their dedicated stewardship of the natural environment. Marcus emailed a script and everything.”
Across the stable, Noah scoffed. One look at his face was all it took to see how he felt about the arrangement.
“You actually agreed to this?” I asked.
Jenn answered for him. “Noah’s agreed to play nice until Victoria renews his contract. Our contract. Isn’t that right, Noah?”
Noah only grunted, then spun on his boots and marched out of the stable.
“You sure he’s going to be okay with this?” I asked Jenn.
“If you pull this off and save his family’s business, he will be. Let’s get you saddled up.”
Jenn led Biscuit out of his stall and into the grassy clearing in front of the stable. “First rule, you’ve got to be chill. Horses can sense fear.” She adjusted my stance as I stood next to Biscuit. “So take a deep breath and relax those shoulders.”
“You expect me to relax?” My shoulders crept back up toward my ears as soon as Biscuit shifted toward me.
“Second rule, always approach from the left side.” Jenn demonstrated, running her hand along Biscuit’s neck. “Let him see you coming. No sudden movements.”
Across the clearing, Noah led Duke to a grassy area, Yeti at their heels … or hooves, rather. Noah scratched the monster horse behind the ears, then flung the LuxeLife branded cooler bag over the back of the saddle.
“When you’re in the saddle, you need to use your legs to communicate,” continued Jenn. “Squeeze with both legs to go forward, pull back on the reins to stop.”
I nodded, my throat dry. Biscuit stood perfectly still, probably wondering why this nervous city girl was taking so long to learn the basics.
“The most important thing is to trust your horse,” Jenn continued. “Biscuit knows these trails better than any of us. He’ll take care of you if you let him.”
“Right.” I swallowed hard. “Trust a thousand-pound animal I just met.”
“See how his ears are forward?” Jenn pointed. “That means he’s interested, paying attention. If they pin back flat, he’s annoyed or uncomfortable.”
“Is that why Noah always has his ears pinned back?” I asked, loud enough for Noah to hear me.
Jenn chuckled, but Noah ignored me. “See? His head’s relaxed, nostrils soft. Good signs.” Jenn ran her hand down Biscuit’s neck. “Horses are like people. They put up walls when they’re scared or threatened. The trick is showing them they don’t need those defenses.”
I caught the pointed look Jenn gave Noah. “Are we still talking about horses?”
“Just saying, fear’s a natural response to the unknown. But sometimes ...” She guided my hand to rest on Biscuit’s shoulder. “You have to trust that what’s on the other side of that wall is worth the risk.”
The horse’s coat felt warm and smooth under my palm. His steady breathing had a calming effect, and I found my own shoulders relaxing.
“He’s telling you he’s ready when you are.” Jenn stepped back. “No rush, no pressure. Just two beings learning to trust each other.”
I kept my hand on Biscuit’s shoulder, absorbing his quiet strength. For the first time since arriving at the stables, the knot of anxiety in my chest loosened.
“Ready to mount up?” Jenn patted the saddle.
I looked at the stirrup hanging at Biscuit’s side, then at the considerable distance to the ground. The last time I’d tried to get on something this tall, I’d face-planted into a climbing wall. “I suppose.”
“Foot here.” Jenn pointed to the stirrup. “Hand here.”
With Jenn guiding me, I grabbed the stirrup and pushed off the ground. Just as my foot left the ground, Biscuit shifted, throwing off my balance, and I slid back down.
“Maybe try jumping higher?” Jenn suggested.
“Right, because jumping is my specialty.” I tried again, getting my foot in the stirrup. My arms trembled as I pulled myself up.
“You’ve got it,” Jenn encouraged. “Just swing your leg over.”
I hung there, suspended halfway up, my right leg flailing uselessly. Biscuit chose that moment to take a step forward.
“No, no, no.” I clutched the saddle tighter.
“For crying out loud.” Noah’s footsteps crunched in the grass behind me. Two large hands planted themselves firmly on my bottom and shoved upward.
I yelped as I flopped across the saddle. Clinging to the horse’s neck, I wiggled my way into the saddle. Once I was set, Noah adjusted the stirrups and checked the straps. The familiar scent of him, pine and coffee, reminded me again of how close we’d been the previous night.
“There.”
“I’m not going to fall off, am I?”
“Better hope not.” Noah didn’t seem as concerned as I thought he should be. “Sorry, we don’t have any saddles with a seatbelt.”
As soon as Noah stepped back over to Duke, Biscuit decided he’d had enough of standing around and started trotting toward the trailhead.
“Whoa!” I bounced in the saddle, yanking on the reins. “Stop! Halt! Whatever the horse word for stop and turn around!” Biscuit angled toward a tree, forcing me to lean in the opposite direction to keep from being scraped off his back by its trunk.
“Pull back harder!” Jenn called after me.
“I’m trying!” Biscuit ignored my increasingly desperate commands. Remembering Jenn’s lessons, I pulled the reins to the right, trying to turn the horse around.
Biscuit turned right, all right, a hard right into the trees. I ducked just in time to avoid having my head taken off by a tree branch.
Noah whistled, and Biscuit stopped immediately. Noah’s second whistle must have activated the horse’s reverse setting because Biscuit shuffled backward into the clearing.
“Oh my God, he’s moonwalking. My horse is literally moonwalking.”
Noah pulled Duke up alongside us, looking very much at home in the saddle.
“Let’s just hurry up and get this over with.
Then you can go back to taking pictures of chocolate truffles or something.
Hyah!” He dug his heels into Duke’s side and they trotted off down a dirt path that disappeared into the forest. Yeti chased after them, tongue lolling out in a wolfish grin.
“Okay,” I told Biscuit, squeezing my legs like Jenn had taught me. “Follow them. Go. Hyah!”
Biscuit stood motionless.
“Biscuit, come on, move!”
The horse swished its tail and started walking ... sideways?
“What are you doing?” I grabbed the saddle horn as Biscuit drifted left, then right, like a drunk uncle at a wedding.
“Biscuit, go. Move! Hyah!”
The horse responded by pawing at the ground like it was auditioning for “Horses Got Talent.” Then he kept shifting his hooves, like he was dancing the salsa.
“Maybe Diego should take you kayaking.”
Jenn marched over. “Come on, Biscuit, stop messing around. You know the routine.”
Eventually, we caught up.
Noah pointed to my phone, which I was using to create a “HorseCam” video. “Keep that thing in your saddlebag. This trail gets bumpy. One good jostle and you can kiss your phone goodbye.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Grumpy Cowboy Face.” I slipped my phone into the leather pouch.
“I thought it was Grumpy Mountain Face.”
“Well, you’re on a horse now, so …” He really did look like he belonged on the set of Yellowstone.
His lips softened, and once again, I wondered exactly how soft those lips might feel on my own. We rode in silence for a moment. I decided to go for it. “We need to talk about last night.”
“What’s there to talk about?”
“No,” I said. “Let’s not do this.”
“Do what?”
“That. That right there. Pretend like you don’t know what’s going on.”
“But I don’t know what’s going on.”
I pressed my lips together, biting back the words that almost came out of my mouth. I had to take a deep breath to rally my patience. “Something happened between us last night. And we’re not going to just pretend it didn’t happen.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“I told you we’re not playing that game.”
“What game?”
“The whole … enemies to friends, friends to enemies trope. This isn’t one of your Bigfoot mountain virgin romance novels.”
“Pretty sure she wasn’t a virgin.”
I refused to let him distract me. “I’m not going to sit here in this saddle on this horse for the rest of the day and let you go back to being the grumpy mountain man just because two otherwise intelligent, mature adults aren’t capable of having an honest conversation. It’s a cliché. And we’re not doing it.”
The stubborn mountain man stayed stubbornly silent, staring out at the distant mountains, as if he was trying to figure out a way to teleport himself over there, as far away as possible from me. Finally, he turned back to look me in the eye. “Fine. You want to talk about last night?”
“Yes, yes, I do.”
“Honest talk?”
“Please.”
“Fine. Here’s the truth. I like you. I think you like me. We were having a good time.”
In other circumstances, my brain would have screeched to a hard stop when Noah said, “I like you.” My heart beat faster. The breath in my lungs came in short, shallow bursts. He liked me. He really liked me! Even better, he admitted it!
“In another world, yes, maybe there could be something between us,” Noah admitted. Duke snorted again, as if to put an exclamation on Noah’s point. “But in our world, the real world, you’re the LuxeLife hired gun and I’m the one being blackmailed to help you.”
“I don’t know that I’d call it blackmail …”
“We’re being honest, remember?”
I gave him a nod, even though my eyes fell to Biscuit’s mane.
“That’s what this is. You and I never would have started any of this if Victoria hadn’t forced it and we both know it. We were stuck together. You pursuing your dream job and me trying to save the only life I’ve ever known.”
“Noah …”
“You wanted me to talk? Then let me talk. Please.” His tone was not unkind.
More desperate. More pleading. “Come on, Sam, you know the score. This is a business arrangement. That’s all this is.
And that’s all it should be.” His eyes drifted off to the mountains.
“Maybe we just forgot that for a minute. That’s all. ”
I swallowed down the emotion bubbling up from my throat. The raw emotion in his voice caught me completely off guard.
“Even if it wasn’t just business, when this thing is over, win or lose, the big-city girl is going back to the big city. And the grumpy mountain dude, or whatever it was you called me, is going to stay put where he belongs. Goodbye. The end.”
When Noah spoke, it was more like he was talking to himself than talking to me. He stared off at the mountains, and when he finally turned back, his eyes weren’t angry. If anything, they were sad.
“That honest enough for you?” I barely heard him over the clomping of the hooves.
“Actually, that was … maybe a little too honest.” At first, the bluntness of his response left me dumbfounded. But what was even more dumbfounding was … he was exactly right.
“I meant what I said, Sam. I do like you. I hope one day we can be friends. But that’s about as much as we’re gonna get out of this little Colorado adventure.”
“Okay,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. What else could I say? “So, what do we do now?”
Noah thought about it for a moment. “I think the best thing we can do right now is get through Victoria’s little …
” He waved at Yeti, then gestured at Biscuit.
“Victoria’s little dog and pony show and then we go our separate ways.
You can go take pictures of yourself with cucumbers on your face at the resort, and I can go back to trying to save the jobs of me and my friends. No hard feelings, okay?”
“Okay.” I nodded. And it was okay. There were no hard feelings, at least on my part, because I didn’t have any feeling left at all.
“Hee-yah,” Noah nudged Duke’s flanks with his legs and the big horse surged forward, Biscuit falling in line behind him.