Chapter 14 #2
Sounded perfect to me. We grabbed some coffee and strolled through the barn, which had about forty stalls.
I was happy to see the horses could all put their heads over the doors rather than being behind bars.
I understood the bars sometimes existed for the safety of both horses and people, but the horses always seemed happier when they could see over their doors.
“This place reminds me of where I used to ride,” Eric said.
“Me too.” I glanced at him. “How long did you ride?”
He shrugged. “Off and on as a kid and into my teens. It’s been a while, though. You?”
“Same. I started competing in junior high, but then I stopped riding altogether in college.” I paused beside the door of a huge palomino named Bill. As I petted his long face, I added, “I should really get back into it.”
“Yeah?” Eric glanced at me as he let Bill sniff—then lick—his hand. “What kind of competitions did you do, anyway?”
“Jumping, mostly.” I smiled as I scratched Bill’s neck. “My trainer made me do dressage, too.”
Eric cocked his head. “Made you? Why?”
I gave an exasperated sigh. “Because she insisted it was a really good way to make a rider tune into their horse, feel the way they’re moving—that kind of thing.”
He arched an eyebrow as he wiped his hand on his jeans. “And… was she right?”
I patted Bill on the neck. “Yeah. She was.” Wrinkling my nose, I added, “I just fucking hated dressage shows.”
“What? Were they really that bad?”
“Oh my God, yes.” I groaned as we continued through the barn. “Like I get the point of it and everything, but the tests—the patterns are just so tedious and boring. Give me a course with some jumps, damn it.”
Eric chuckled. “I was afraid to jump.”
“Really?”
He nodded, looking a little sheepish. “My aunt jumped—like, she did showjumping, with the huge fucking jumps. And the first time someone asked me if I wanted to try it, I remembered her with her arm in a cast and a big bruise on her face after a horse dumped her in midair.” Grimacing, he shook his head. “No, thank you.”
I laughed and shrugged. “Okay, I can understand that. And like, falling hurts no matter what, but when the shithead tosses you into a jump?” I shuddered. “That hurts.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Uh-huh. My mare never refused jumps, but then one day she did. I wasn’t expecting it, so I’m ready for her to take the jump, but the next thing I know—she stopped and I didn’t.”
“Ouch.” Eric made a face. “How bad did you get hurt?”
“I mean, I didn’t break anything, and I had a helmet on. But I landed just right to knock the wind out of me, so that was fun.”
“Oh. God. I hate that feeling.”
“Right? I’m just laying there on a pile of jump poles, can’t fucking breathe, and everything hurts. It was bullshit.”
Eric smirked. “And let me guess—your horse was staring down at you like, what are you doing down there, you weirdo?”
I burst out laughing. “Yes! Exactly! I’m fighting for my life, sure I’m gonna fucking die, and she’s all—what? Why are you on the ground?”
He was laughing, too. “That happened to me on a trail ride. My horse stumbled while I wasn’t paying attention, so I’m sitting there on the trail, and he’s staring at me like I’m the dumbass.”
“Well, in his defense, you did admit you weren’t paying attention.”
Eric rolled his eyes and I chuckled.
We continued through the barn, visiting with various horses and shooting the shit about our past experiences.
And all that did nothing to quell everything that’d had me furiously jerking off last night.
Eric was hot, but he was also sweet and funny.
We had horses in common; I could tell him the crazy stories about my riding days, and he got them in ways people who didn’t know horses never could.
He had stories of his own, and I loved how his eyes sparkled when he talked about mischievous horses, or that soft smile when he mentioned meeting a newborn foal for the first time.
At one point, Eric crouched, and that was when I realized a grizzled old barn cat had come wandering out of a feed room. She eyed us, but eventually she made a cautious approach. She let Eric scratch behind her ears, and I managed to pet her before a horse sneezed nearby and she vanished again.
I loved that he was a cat person. So much so that Chili had all but forgotten I existed.
The skittish barn cat came up to him? No surprise.
And the horses seemed to like him, too. Back in high school, my boyfriend had come to the barn one day, and my horse had pinned her ears at him.
When he’d tried to pet her, she’d pulled away and swished her tail, stomping her foot on the floor.
She loved everyone, but she’d hated him.
He’d come with me two more times after that, but then decided he was afraid of her and stayed away from the barn.
Turned out she was on to something, because he was a dickhead. The next guy? She’d adored him. Ditto with the girlfriend I had after him.
From then on, I’d sworn up and down I’d introduce any potential partner to my horse. More recently, my cats.
The cats had liked Selena well enough. Eric? They loved him. And so did every horse we met in this barn.
We reached the last stall, which turned out to be home to a mare named Annabelle and her baby, Frank, who was probably almost ready to be weaned. He was still small but could get his head partway over the door.
“Look at you,” Eric cooed as he petted the colt’s neck. “God, they’re so soft when they’re babies, aren’t they?”
I smiled and ran my fingers through Frank’s fluffy coat. “They really are.”
And do you have any idea how adorable it is to watch you melt over a horse? Especially a baby?
Oh my God, I am so fucked.
Closer to 10:30, we made our way back to the barn entrance where some other people had gathered. The previous ride had returned, and Leah and her barn hands were putting those horses away.
“All right,” Carole said to our group. “Let’s match everyone with horses. Where are my experienced riders?”
Eric and I exchanged looks but said nothing.
It was a universal truth among horse people that if you were renting a horse, it was wise to downplay how much experience you actually had.
The people who ran businesses like this had seen and heard it all, and they always—always—had at least one horse in the herd who could be relied upon to humble the cockiest of riders.
Eric and I knew what we were doing, but we had also signed up for an enjoyable trail ride.
We weren’t here to show off or make sure everyone knew how advanced we were.
So, neither of us volunteered that we had any experience riding horses beyond “I’ve ridden before and I know how to stop and steer. ”
One of the other people in the group, a woman named Jackie, announced, “I’m competing in fourth-level dressage and I’ve been to Regionals in Hunter/Jumper. I know what I’m doing.”
Carole kept her expression mostly placid, but the mischievous sparkle in her eyes almost made me laugh out loud. Ooh, Jackie was in for it today, wasn’t she?
Carole turned to the barn hands. “Bring out Lucky, Star, Bubba, and Kirby.”
The boys nodded, but I couldn’t help noticing that when she said “Kirby,” they both raised their eyebrows, then smirked.
Something told me Kirby was the creature who would be bringing Jackie down a peg today.
Minutes later, Eric glanced past me, then did a double take, and his eyes went huge. “Ooh, shit.” He gestured in that direction. “How much you want to bet that’s going to be Jackie’s horse?”
I turned, and I couldn’t hold back the laugh this time.
One of the hands was coming back with two horses.
A tall bay plodded along to his left. At his right?
A chestnut with its ears pinned and tail swishing.
It had to be a mare. Had to be. Among horses, there was no bitchier creature than a chestnut mare, and this one gave off “chestnut mare” energy like few I’d ever seen.
I clapped a hand over my mouth. Eric did his best to stifle a laugh, but he was failing miserably.
As the guy walked past, I caught a glimpse of the name plate on the mare’s halter:
Kirby.
Oh, yeah. This was going to be an interesting ride.
Carole brought out two other horses, and we waited while she and the hands got them all saddled. When they were ready, we were each given a helmet and a horse, then directed to the arena to ride for a few minutes and get used to our respective horses.
I was assigned to Star, a tall black mare with—as her name suggested—a tiny white star on her forehead. She was pretty mellow, though she clearly did not like Kirby, which seemed to be mutual. Duly noted.
Star had a long stride and a fast walk. Her trot was a bit choppy, but fortunately, I’d learned to ride English, so I knew how to post—standing up and sitting down in time with her gait for a smoother ride.
Her canter was smoother than her trot, and not too fast, either; more of a rocking lope that was seriously comfortable to ride.
I doubted we’d be doing much if any cantering on the trail, but it was still fun.
Felt nice to be literally back in the saddle, too.
It's long past time—I need to get a horse.
As I slowed Star to a walk, Carole eyed me from where she sat on Hank, a giant thoroughbred. “I thought you said you didn’t have much experience.”
“Well, I mean…” I shrugged. “I’ve never shown fourth-level dressage.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Smart man. Smart man.”
I just chuckled.
She nodded toward the other end of the arena, where Eric had Lucky in a slow, easy canter. “Your boyfriend kept the same card close, didn’t he?”
“My—” I cleared my throat. “Oh, he’s not—I mean, we’re not…”
“Oh!” She snapped her head toward me, her face full of horror. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume! You guys just…” The horror deepened. She probably thought she’d just told a straight guy he seemed gay.
“We’re not together, but we’re not straight either,” I clarified.