Chapter 37
WINNIE
“Heels down, toes up,” Candice calls out to me. “Yes, like that. Your seat looks great now.”
I’m walking Rosie around the ring all by myself, and she’s being an absolute dear, and has been calm the entire time. She plods around the ring slowly, as if she can tell that I’m not ready to go any faster yet.
“Can you take a photo of me?” I ask. “I want to show Jonah.”
Candice gives me a thumbs up and takes out her phone. She snaps a few as I turn Rosie to face her. We make another lap around the ring, and I focus on keeping my legs and feet in the position Candice told me to.
“One day, I’ll be good enough for us to really run,” I whisper, patting Rosie on the neck. “You and I will finally get to be free.”
After the lesson is over, I dismount using the block. As I swing my leg over, I feel a bit dizzy, and it takes me a moment to get the maneuver right. I must be tired or something, and I do my best to shake the feeling off.
Candice and I walk Rosie back to the barn to rub her down.
She didn’t work up a sweat in our slow-poke lesson, but grooming makes her happy.
And it’s a nice chance to get to chat with Candice.
I’ve been bursting with wanting to tell her about Jonah all day.
Now that I’m confident we’re actually together, I want to scream it to the entire world.
Candice hands me a curry comb, and we each tackle a side. Rosie buries her face in her hay, munching as we brush her brown coat.
I’m trying to figure out how to naturally bring Jonah up when Candice says, “Why don’t you tell me what has you smiling so hard today.”
I shake my head. Nothing gets by Candice.
“Jonah and I are together.” I grin as I say it.
“And we had sex! A lot of it!” That part comes out so loud that Rosie swings her head over to look at me.
“Sorry, Rosie. You wouldn’t understand. You don’t really seem to like the male horses here very much.
” It’s true. Rosie doesn’t like Ballantine nearly as much as she likes Maggie and Brown Sugar.
“Oh my God,” Candice says. “I knew it! I knew you and Jonah wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off one another once you moved into his house!”
“But we didn’t even really like one another at all when we got married.” I rub the curry brush right over Rosie’s favorite spot to be scratched.
“Yeah, but you can easily not like someone and still want to fuck their brains out. I mean look at me and Nathan.” Candice winks at me over Rosie’s back.
“True. You did really, really used to hate him. Until you really, really wanted to screw him.”
“What can I say? He’s irresistible once he puts on his chaps and the rest of his little rodeo outfit.”
Candice and I dissolve into a fit of laughter.
“Tell me how it happened,” she says. “I want all the juicy details.”
Candice was the first person I told about my first kiss when I was fourteen, in a letter I sent to her.
She wrote back in purple gel pen, asking me what it was like.
So I don’t mind sharing the details with her—it makes me feel like I’m a giggling, happy teenage girl.
I never really got to be one, not once I got good at pageants.
“Well, for starters, Jonah is pretty big…”
She makes a disgusted face and then we both laugh.
“Honestly, though,” I say, pausing my grooming.
“It’s been really good. All of it. Yes, the sex is phenomenal and he takes his time making things good for me.
But it’s more than that. We have…” I fumble around for the right words.
“We have something that I never thought I’d get to experience.
And now I get to, and it’s partly because of this place, and the home and safe haven you all have given me. ”
“Aw, Win, you’re going to make me cry.” Candice wipes at her eyes.
I swallow the emotion in my throat, and resume my grooming. By the time we’re done, my arms feel tired, and I’m hot all over. I need to sit down.
“Oof,” I say, sinking onto the stool near Rosie’s stall. “That lesson really seems to have taken it out of me.”
Candice drops into a crouch at my feet and looks up at me, concern in her eyes. “Are you sure it’s just that? You are looking a bit pale.” She feels my forehead with the back of her hand. “God, Win, you’re burning up.”
“Am I? I feel okay.” But even as I say the words, I feel my body slump to the side. Only the stall door keeps me from falling all the way over.
“I’m calling Jonah to come get you.” Candice’s phone is already in her hand.
“No, I’m fine. I swear. Jonah is working a lot today and he doesn’t have time. Just give me a minute and then I’ll be good to go.”
Candice ignores me completely. “Hey, Jonah. Yeah, Fuzz is fine. It’s Winnie. She’s really sick with a fever or something…I’d drive her home myself but I figured you’d want to know…okay, see you soon.”
She hangs up and looks at me. “He’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
By the time Jonah arrives at the rescue, I’m basically delirious. My fever is high, and Beau has already checked it twice. He gives Jonah a pack of flu meds and tells him to call a doctor if my fever doesn’t come down.
“Come on,” Jonah says, leaning down and lifting one of my arms up. “I’ll carry you to the car.”
“I can walk.” I try to get out of my chair. The room spins and I smack right back down into the seat and frown.
“Sure you can. You can show me later.” Jonah gently picks me up and I wrap my arms around his neck.
“You’re so strong,” I whisper against his skin as he carries me out to his car. “Like a horse. One of those really strong ones that pulls the beer truck and has the fancy hooves. You’re like ten of those.”
Jonah chuckles. “A Clydesdale? I’ll take it.”
“You’re nicer to me than anyone else ever has been, too.”
Somehow, we’re already at the truck, and Jonah deposits me into a seat. I hear the snap of the seatbelt buckle, and then feel a warm kiss against my forehead. My head lolls against the window.
I close my eyes for a bit on the drive home, and when I open them, I’m being carried into the house. Jonah lays me down on the bed, and tugs my boots off.
“Arms up, Winnie.” I do what he says, and let him peel my fleece and undershirt off. He replaces my clothes with a pair of his own soft pajamas. “Your pajamas are all silk and far too nice to get vomit on,” he explains.
I stick my tongue out at him, and try to say that I’m not going to vomit. But a shiver wracks my body. Jonah helps me get beneath the covers, but I still feel cold everywhere, and I start shaking again.
“Here.” Jonah grabs another blanket and then gets into bed beside me. “I’ll keep you warm.”
“But you…you sick,” I croak out, trying to express that I don’t want to give him my illness.
“I’ll be fine,” he says, wrapping an arm over me. Heat blooms around me as he tugs me close to his chest. “Don’t worry. Just sleep.”
Sleep sounds nice. Sleep sounds perfect. Almost as perfect as the man next to me. I like him even more than I like sleep.
“Shhh,” Jonah says, stroking my arm. “Sleep.”
I snuggle deeper into the blankets and do just that.
When I wake up, the room is dark and I’m alone. And I don’t feel cold anymore. Instead, I’m burning up. Sweat is running down my back under Jonah’s pajama top, and I toss the covers off angrily. I’m gross, and sick, and I need a shower.
I kick my feet over the side of the bed and try to get up. My head immediately starts pounding. Fuck. I’m sicker than I thought. I try to reach my water on the bedside table and end up knocking it over.
“Fuck!” Thankfully, there wasn’t much in there and it mostly spilled on the carpet.
“Winnie?” Jonah calls out. “Are you alright?” he opens the bedroom door, and light from the hallway floods in.
“Yeah. I just need a shower. I’m disgusting.”
“You’re not well enough to shower.” Jonah crosses his arms and frowns.
“I’m fine!”
“You can barely stand. I’ll help you bathe.”
He crosses the room to me and lifts me out of the bed. I like being carried by Jonah. A lot. But damn it, I want him to carry me in a sexy way. Not because I’m too sick to walk on my own. I huff and let out a small growl.
“What’s wrong, Win?” He eases the door of the bathroom open and deposits me on the toilet.
“I don’t want you to see me like this! You’re my husband!”
“Exactly, sweetheart.” He brushes a damp lock of hair behind my ear. “If I can’t see you like this, then who can?”
I want to tell him that I was trained to always look my very best, especially in front of men.
I want to say that Miss Alabama would never be so sick that her husband needed to bathe her.
And if she was, she’d send him out of the house and figure out how to do it herself.
By the time he got back, she’d be all better, a big smile stretching across her face.
But I can’t organize my thoughts enough to say the words the right way, so I just sit there and pout.
Jonah cracks a smile at me. “I washed your hair the other day, and that wasn’t so bad.” He starts filling the tub, and pours in some of my bubble bath.
I start shivering on the toilet, the heat that claimed me minutes ago now gone. “But,” I say through chattering teeth, “that was a sexy shower. This is different.”
Jonah tips his head back and laughs, the sound swirling through the bathroom. I’d drink it if I could. I’d bottle it and sell it for a thousand dollars a bottle. A real one of a kind, top shelf, aged for ten years kind of laugh.
“That’s nice of you, Winnie. But I don’t think there’d be much market for my laugh. Now, for your smile, on the other hand. That would sell out.”
I frown at Jonah, because how the hell is he reading my mind?
“Damn, you really are sick,” he mutters. “Come here and I’ll help you in.”
I take Jonah’s hand, and his strong arms guide me down into the tub. I let out a moan as I sink into the hot water. He leans me back and dunks my hair in the water, and then he starts washing it.
I watch him the entire time. His forearms flexing as he pours the shampoo out into his hands.
The gentle, firm way he scrubs my head. The concentration on his face as he helps me wash the suds out.
He is so careful, so thoughtful, so intentional.
He does things with purpose, with honor.
Maybe that’s corny, but as he combs the conditioner through my hair, all I can think is that this is a man who would never hurt me, never leave me, never break my heart.
The thought strikes me with such clarity that even my fever-addled brain grasps it.
He’s a better man than I ever thought I’d have. Back when I was a kid, I used to wish for someone just like him. Someone who would care about me—openly, tenderly, truthfully. With no ulterior motives.
And now I have him. The feelings bubble up inside me, and I start to sob, my chest heaving, my arms shaking.
“Winnie, Winnie, what’s wrong? Tell me.” Jonah cups my face in my hand, and strokes a thumb down my cheek.
“I love you,” I say, using my wet hands to wipe blindly at my face. I just end up getting water in my eyes, and flicking some on Jonah’s shirt.
Jonah’s eyes go soft, but he just says, “You’re sick.”
“No.” I haul myself into a standing position and point a finger at him. I probably look like an angry, drowned rat, but whatever. “Well, yes. I am very sick and I will need to take another three to four hour nap after this bath just to recover. But that doesn’t change the fact that I love you.”
Jonah grabs a towel off of the rack and wraps it around my shoulders. I step out of the tub and into his arms, and search his face for answers. Does he feel the same? It seems impossible that he doesn’t.
“I love you too, Winnie. And even if it’s just the fever talking, I still mean it.”
“It’s not the fever. I’m basically all better.” I scrunch up my nose at him.
“Come on sicky, let’s get you back to bed.”
Jonah swings me into his arms again and brings me back to the bedroom, where he dresses me in another set of his pajamas. He makes me drink some water, eat some soup, and take another pain killer. And then I drift back to sleep.