Chapter 31
JONAH
Winnie’s lesson goes really well, all things considered.
Candice leads her around the ring on Rosie’s back, and talks her through how to steer and signal with her legs.
They don’t go any faster than a walk, though I can tell that Rosie is itching to go a bit faster at times.
At the end, Winnie tries steering Rosie without any help, and when it goes well, Nathan and I both give her a thumb’s up from the side of the ring.
Winnie dismounts after her lessons, and bounds over to me, a glorious smile on her face.
“Did you see? I walked her all on my own!”
“I did, and you looked good doing it.” Her smile is infectious and before I know it, I’m grinning down at her. “You did great. Before you know it, we’ll be on a trail ride together.”
I wince internally at my mistake. Winnie and I might not be married long enough to go on trail rides together. She only needs to be with me until the lawsuit is concluded.
But Winnie just keeps smiling at me, like the idea of trail rides with me actually excites her. “That would be great! Which horse do you usually ride here?”
“Whichever Candice can spare. It’s been a while since I’ve ridden, because I’ve been so busy with work but now that, I, uh…”
“Now that you’ve got my money in the bank and no more medical bills, you can take some weekends off!” Winnie finishes my thoughts for me.
“We’ll go on one as soon as you’re ready and the weather is decent,” I confirm.
“I’ll start riding every day, then.”
“Tell that to your sore muscles tomorrow, babe,” Candice chimes in from behind us. “And you also need to get Rosie untacked and brushed.” She passes Winnie Rosie’s reins.
“Oh, I doubt I’ll be sore. We just walked.”
Candice and I look at one another, and both start laughing.
“When you’re limping to the bath later, I’ll try not to say I told you so,” I tell Winnie.
“Ass,” she mutters. “C’mon Rosie.” She marches off and out of the ring, the thoroughbred prancing next to her.
It makes me proud, seeing her like this.
Confident in herself. I know that it’s partially due to her work here at the barn.
Learning to handle a horse can do a lot for one’s self confidence and courage.
When I first apprenticed as a farrier, I wasn’t sure how to manage the horses that didn’t like me right away—the ones who needed a bit of extra time before they gave me their trust. But once I mastered how to bond with them and put them at ease, my perception of myself changed, too.
Horses trusted me, so I could trust me, too: my decisions, my heart, my own mind.
“Alright Jonah, give it to me straight,” Candice says, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Are you head over heels for her yet?”
“Who wouldn’t be?” I say. “She’s perfect.”
Candice makes a tsking noise. “That’s not an answer, and you know it. Yes, Winnie is gorgeous and kind and always has a smile on her face. But those are the things that made her Miss Alabama, they aren’t all that she is. I want to know how you feel about the other parts of her.”
“And I’m a smart enough man to know that anything I tell you will make it back to her immediately after. I want to tell Winnie how I feel in my own time, and not before.”
“So there’s something to tell, then?” Candice has a knowing smile on her face.
“We sang together the other night.” I throw her a bone because I don’t think she’ll stop prying until I do.
“And?” Candice asks.
“And, it was good. We had a good time.” I don’t say anything else, especially not about Winnie breaking down in tears at the end and sobbing in my arms. Some things are private.
“Good? You really are a man of few words, aren’t you?”
“No better than you.” Candice starts to protest but I continue and say, “Come on, how often before you and Nathan were officially together did you talk about your feelings for him?”
“You have a point,” she relents. “Just don’t break her heart.”
That would require her to feel the same way about me as I do for her. And I’m not sure Winnie wants anything serious beyond the expiration date of this marriage.
I nod anyway.
“Come on,” Candice says. “Nathan’s new horse Lily needs some hoof care, and Fuzz needs a checkup.”
We continue chatting about the horses as we walk from the training ring to Fuzz’s paddock. He’s healed enough that he seems happy to stand up and walk around, a marked change from when he first came in, and spent a lot of time lying down out of pain.
Candice fits a halter on him, and together we walk over to the stables.
We’re greeted by the sound of Winnie singing a country song.
We turn the corner down one of the aisles, and find her giving Rosie a brush.
The horse seems completely at ease and clearly loves the combination of the curry comb massage and Winnie’s lovely voice.
She doesn’t notice us, and neither Candice nor I interrupt her private moment with Rosie.
“That’s basically her horse now,” I say quietly to Candice.
“Agreed. I haven’t put her up on the website for adoption and I don’t plan to. She’s Winnie’s."
Fuzz snorts, and I say, “Don’t worry buddy, you’re ours too. For as long as you need to be.”
“Nathan and I have big plans for this place.” Candice clips Fuzz’s halter to a line attached to the wall, and gives him a scratch. “How does Star Mountain Horse Rescue and Sanctuary sound to you, Fuzz? You could stay here forever.”
“Is he still helping you out with all of that?” I start looking at Fuzz’s hoofs one by one. He bends his head down at lips at the back of my shirt as I do, pushing it up and down. Turns out Fuzz is just a big goof ball.
“He is. He’s competing in fewer rodeos and stock shows, but he’s still doing endorsement deals and he just landed a really good one. Some of that money will go to the rescue and will allow us to keep some horses here permanently, with no need to adopt them.”
“Good. I’m glad you found a man who loves the mission of this place as much as you do.”
I pick up Fuzz’s last hoof. Like the others, it’s looking pretty good. The canker seems to have cleared up, and the supports I built for him have held up well.
“I’ll need to replace the foam padding in the supports in a few weeks, but other than that, he looks good.” I scratch Fuzz on the neck, and his big fuzzy ears twitch my way. “You hear that? You’re nearly all better, Fuzzy.”
Candice pulls out a handful of carrot rounds and feeds them to him one by one, the happy sound of his chomping filling the air. Honestly, there isn’t much better in life than spoiling a rescued horse.
Winnie and I go over to my parents’ house that evening for movie night.
We watch My Fair Lady, and Winnie sighs and coos over every one of Eliza Doolittle’s outfits.
My parents are getting more comfortable with our relationship, and they seem to be warming up to Winnie, too.
My mom asks her questions about her sewing, and even agrees to teach Winnie how to knit.
In the car on the way home, Winnie talks my ear off about all of the sweaters she’s going to knit, and all of the yarn she’s going to buy.
“Don’t you have enough sweaters?” I mutter. At the moment, she’s wearing a baby blue one that looks soft and cozy.
“Jonah Smith, you know better than to question how much clothing I have. It’d be like if I told you that you have too many guitars.”
“I have three guitars, Win, it’s not really the same thing.” I turn into our driveway and park the Jeep. We hop out and walk through the freshly fallen snow, and into the house.
“Besides, I don’t really care how much you have, but it doesn’t even all fit into my house, does it?” I continue.
“I probably do need to get rid of some things,” she admits.
“There are a few donation banks for clothing at the hospital,” I offer. I set my coat down and walk into the living room to get started on a fire. “You could bring some things there.”
“Ugh, I know. But getting rid of anything scares me. And a lot of my clothing is basically evening gowns or costumes. I’m not sure it would be worth donating.”
“Costumes?” I ask.
“Yeah, like things I wore for pageants. I even made a few myself.”
“I’d like to see those.” I know how much Winnie loves fashion and I want her to know that I care about that part of her—even if my own wardrobe is almost entirely jeans and sweaters.
“Sooooo, you’re basically asking for a fashion show?” She’s visibly perked up, and a cheerful gleam has entered her eyes. “Because there is nothing I love more than a fashion show.”
“Sure, whatever you want sweetheart. I’ll be your captive audience.” The term of endearment rolls off my tongue easily. Perhaps too easily, but Winnie doesn’t seem to mind.
Winnie disappears into the bedroom, and I grab my guitar, determined to give her fashion show some decent music.
After a few minutes she prances out of the room in a long black gown, covered in shining sequins.
She’s wearing heels too, and walks with the same elegance and poise that she always does.
She spins in front of me, the skirt flaring out around her feet, and lets out a laugh as I start strumming dramatically.
After another moment, she heads back into the room and changes, coming out in a completely different look. This one consists of a cropped workout shirt that has a jeweled American flag on it and a matching tennis skirt. She’s paired it with sneakers and her hair is in two short pig tails.
“Were you on a tennis team?” I say, still strumming, this time an upbeat tune.
“Nope,” she says, spinning around. I catch a glimpse of her purple panties under her skirt as she does, and my throat goes dry. “Some pageants have fitness wear now, instead of swim suits. Not that this outfit is much less revealing than a bikini.”
She bounds back to her room and when she returns, she’s wearing something I know she must have designed herself. Because it’s so very, very Winnie. It’s got layers of swishy, almost see-through fabric and a pink, gem-encrusted bodice.
“You made that yourself?” I ask, pausing my playing to take her in.
Winnie stops in front of me, eyes wide with surprise. “How’d you know?”
“The pink? The layers? The rhinestones? It’s one hundred percent you,” I tell her.
A tinge of pink washes across her cheeks and she smiles. “I had no idea you paid so much attention to what I like to wear.”
I try to swallow past the emotion in my throat but I can’t shake it, and when I speak, I know my voice is thick with it. “I pay attention to everything about you.”
She reaches out and cups my cheek in her palm. “Thank you. For noticing me. Not many people actually do, and it means a lot that you noticed this dress.”
Someone who didn’t know her very well would think she was lying or being falsely modest. Millions of people have noticed her in her life, because of her time in the pageant world and on social media. But it seems like hardly anyone sees who she really is.
I set my guitar aside, and pull her towards me, my hands sinking through the layers of fabric and finding her hips. In a moment, she’s in my lap, her knees on either side of me on the couch. She trails her hands over my face again and sucks in a breath when our eyes meet.
“Jonah…” Her voice caresses my name—like it’s something precious to her.
I reach a hand up and push it through the short, silken strands of her hair, and bring her face towards mine. “I’m going to kiss you now, Winnie Grant.”
“And I’m going to kiss you back, Jonah Smith.” A smile dances across her face.
Our lips meet, and melt together. Winnie teases her tongue on the seam of my lips, and then slips inside. I let her explore me with her mouth and her hands, and she kisses me fully and runs her hands up and down my body, then slips them under my shirt and finds my bare skin.
“Touch me back,” she whispers.
I ruck her dress up around her hips, taking care not to rip it, and then run my hands along the top of her thighs.
I catch a glimpse of those purple panties again and move her skirts higher so I can see them better.
She writhes in my lap, dragging herself along the top of my thigh and I relish the sight of it.
“Are you wet for me yet, Win? Is your cunt soaked waiting for me to touch you?” I growl. I meet her eyes and she just nods, a blush high on her cheeks. “I like making you blush. It’s so pretty.” I run a knuckle along her cheek.
“I love hearing dirty talk but I never know what to say back.”
“If you don’t want to say anything you don’t have to.” I want Winnie to be as comfortable as possible with me. “But if you decide you want to be bold, you could tell me how much you want it. How badly you need me, and where.”
Winnie sucks in a breath. And then she grabs my wrist with her free hand and guides me to her center. “Here,” she breathes. “I need you right here.”
I slip a finger under the edge of the lace and brush through her folds. I spread her wetness around and then pump inside. “You’re dripping for me, sweetheart, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Yes, Jonah I’m soaked for you.” Winnie says the words quietly and her face is even redder than before.
I press my thumb to her clit and she whimpers, but I ease out of her panties. “You’re being such a good girl.” I run my hands along her back, looking for a zipper. “How do I get this thing off you? I don’t want to ruin it, not when you worked so hard on it.”
“Side zip,” she says, pointing under her arm. She carefully unzips the top of the dress and I lift it over her. She maneuvers herself out of her panties and settles back on my lap. My cock thickens in my pants and I’m impossibly hard now.
I ease a finger back inside Winnie, and she gasps as I pump in and out of her.