Chapter 6 #2
Dylan laughed then, low and rumbling. “I’ve got no problem with Ethan.
We were kids. We’d been told we weren’t allowed to like each other.
That’s all it was.” They walked across the grass in the direction of the dilapidated horse barn.
“Brodie on the other hand—” Dylan cocked his head “—that’s a different story. ”
“That’s football?” Willow finished for him.
His mouth stretched into a grin. “That’s football,” he repeated.
When he looked at her then, it seemed like they were both thinking back to those days when they’d been enforced enemies, and she wished she’d never mentioned football.
She felt her body get hot at the mention, at the look in Dylan’s eyes, at the smile on his lips.
Then he looked away, the moment gone as quick as it happened, and turning the corner of the building, he said, “Here we are,” gesturing to the half door where Thunder waited, head out of the stall looking up at the sky.
Willow was still surprised to see her so pliant.
“She likes watching the birds,” Dylan said.
“Really?” Willow liked that.
She watched Dylan go up to Thunder, voice low and steady as he talked to her.
“She takes a little warming up,” he said in the same calm tone but obviously to Willow.
As he coaxed the horse out to the paddock, Willow, who’d brought her own mints this time, held her hand out with one as she approached.
She felt Dylan watching as Thunder took it from her.
“You like the birds, do you?” She tried to talk with the same soft authority as Dylan. “What’s the trick?” she asked.
Dylan shrugged a shoulder. “Patience.”
“Noah’s patient and he couldn’t get near her.”
Dylan smirked, heading inside to get the saddle. “There’s a whole lot of things I could reply to that.”
Willow knew she’d handed him the opportunity to gloat at her brother’s expense, “There’s no need!”
“It’s about making her feel good about herself.
” Dylan came back out, still smiling. “Thunder’s a fast horse—she’s quick and she’s clever.
She’s sensitive, which is good, but it makes her vulnerable.
” Willow watched him with Thunder, how his demeanor didn’t change when he was with her, how she became his sole focus, talking to her as he put the saddle on.
It was only when he stepped back that he directed his attention to Willow again.
“I don’t know who had her before Noah, but I’d guess her problems are more to do with whoever that was than anything in her disposition.
You can’t force a horse to be who you want it to be. ”
If she was honest, Willow couldn’t believe this was the same person who used to crow cockily on the football field or sit, one arm slung over the back of his chair, backtalking the teachers.
Dylan beckoned her over to come and help. Thunder sniffed Willow’s hair, making her laugh. Dylan stood with his arms crossed, smiling. “I think she can tolerate you.”
Willow raised a brow but didn’t reply, kept on whispering compliments to the horse.
After a little while, she moved around to adjust the stirrups, checking all the while that Thunder was okay with what she was doing.
She tried to work out the best way to take the strain off her knee, but couldn’t help thinking of Dylan saying, “I didn’t think you’d come,” when she’d arrived.
It meant—and she was aware that she was overanalyzing—that Dylan had given thought to whether she was going to come back or not.
He hadn’t just dismissed the casual invite to ride and got on with his day.
The idea made an unexpected warmth spread through her body.
When it actually came time to get on, Willow found herself suddenly hesitant. Afraid, perhaps. Thunder seemed to sense it and took a step back. Dylan held her steady, kept her calm. “Something wrong?” he asked Willow.
“No, it’s fine,” she replied, trying to pull herself together.
This was what she wanted. The freedom, the exhilaration.
“It’s just, erm—” How did she explain it.
“It’s been a while, I’ve been in the city, that’s all.
” She knew in that moment that she should say she was injured; knew that she should step away and say that it wasn’t a good idea—she wasn’t the rider that Dylan thought she was any longer—but she couldn’t do it, the words wouldn’t come.
There was a stubbornness in her that couldn’t admit weakness in front of anyone, let alone Dylan Hawkins, of all people.
She’d look stupid for allowing him to think she was capable, for going to the trouble of getting Thunder ready for her.
Then Thunder herself nosed forward and seemed to give Willow’s hand a nudge of encouragement.
Her giant black eyes glass-like, so Willow could see her own reflection, see her hat and her shirt, her hair braided over her shoulder.
She paused, looking for a moment at the horse, felt a lump in her throat at the encouragement.
It almost made her laugh. “Okay, Thunder, I’m getting on.
” She shook off her nerves and, with a hoist from Dylan, climbed into the saddle.
Just being there was like a sigh of relief. She felt every muscle relax like she was where she belonged.
Dylan looked slightly perplexed. “Are you going to be okay on your own?”
Willow found herself grinning, leaning forward, scratching Thunder’s neck. “I’ll be absolutely fine!” And with a click of her tongue, hands on the reins like she’d been riding as recently as yesterday, she headed out into the wildflowers.