Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
The clouds above us are thickening.
Could be a summer storm coming in. But hell, we’re almost to the barn.
It’s a large structure with broad wooden doors that are always open during the day. Inside are rows of clean box stalls, each home to one of our horses.
“Here we are.” I step inside. The smell of hay and horse wafts toward me. It’s a familiar scent that brings a sense of comfort. To a city girl like Tabitha, it’s probably pretty pungent.
Tabitha walks in behind me, her eyes wide. “It’s bigger inside than it looks from the outside.”
“Just perspective,” I say.
We walk through the barn, each of our steps echoing against the wooden floor. As we pass each stall, we pause so that Tabitha can meet the horses. She reaches out to stroke their noses.
“This is Thunder,” I say, pointing to a rain-cloud-colored stallion with a powerful frame and gentle eyes.
Tabitha runs her fingers through Thunder’s mane. “He’s magnificent,” she murmurs.
Thunder nuzzles his head into her palm. I recognize that look on her face—the same wonder I felt when Dad introduced me to my first horse all those years ago. It’s a sentiment that never really fades when you’re dealing with these beautiful creatures.
I show her each horse—Belle, Phantom, Greta, Penelope. “Penelope is Angie’s, and Greta is Sage’s.” We reach the last stall. “And this is Duchess,” I say, patting the chestnut mare’s flank. Duchess is an older horse, her coat rippling with patches of gray, but her eyes are still bright and alert.
“She’s beautiful,” Tabitha says softly, reaching out to stroke Duchess’s long face.
The horse nudges her, and Tabitha laughs. She’s comfortable with the horses. She’d probably be a good rider. Maybe, if things were different, I’d teach her. I taught Sage and Angie how to ride when they were just five years old.
“Would you like to feed them?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says, her eyes still on Duchess.
I lead her over to a bin filled with carrots and apples and show her how to hold them flat on her palm so the horses won’t accidentally nibble on her fingers.
We spend the rest of our time in the barn feeding and grooming the horses. There’s an ease about Tabitha that the horses seem to respond to. Not many people have that, especially city folks. But she hasn’t been afraid, not even of Thunder, our biggest stallion.
“You’re good with them,” I say, motioning toward the stalls.
Tabitha looks at me, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Really?”
I nod. “Not everyone can handle a horse.”
A blush creeps up her cheeks. “I like animals.”
“I can tell.” I hold her gaze for a moment longer than necessary before turning to leave the barn.
Outside, the wind has picked up, and the temperature has dropped.
A second later, rain pelts the roof of the barn.
Shit.
Now what?
We’ll be trapped here until the rain stops, at least.
The horses are used to it, though Belle gets a little antsy. I pet her nose to calm her. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”
“It’s really coming down,” Tabitha says. “Should we get back?”
I can’t help a chuckle. “Only if you want to get soaked. These rainstorms don’t typically last too long. We’re better off waiting here until it stops.”
She shrugs. “Okay.”
She looks beautiful, her blond hair glowing in the dim light from the barn lantern. She’s leaning against Duchess’s stall. Her light-brown eyes are wide as she watches the rain pound against the ground outside.
“Colorado rainstorms are wild and untamed,” I say, “but also short and sweet.”
She laughs softly. “You make it sound so poetic.”
I shrug. “Nothing poetic about the truth.”
A comfortable silence falls between us. The only sounds are the drumming of the rain on the roof and the occasional soft snorts and shuffles of the horses.
“There’s something peaceful about rain,” Tabitha muses as she watches the downpour.
I look at her profile, taking in the soft slope of her cheek, the flutter of her eyelids, and the gentle curve of her lips. I nearly kissed her in the kitchen. I would have if we hadn’t been interrupted.
“I agree,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s like nature’s way of cleansing itself.”
She turns to look at me, her eyes searching mine. For what, I’m not sure. But in that moment, I want to be what she’s looking for.
My hand itches to reach for her as I did in the kitchen.
I keep it at my side.
Still, she’s so close. So—
Crack!
A bolt of lightning and the resulting thunderclap makes the barn shake.
Belle whinnies in her stall, and the other horses, though still calm, perk their ears up. Zach, used to such summer storms, simply stays lying down.
“That was close, wasn’t it?” Tabitha says.
“Right above us, I’d say.” I look outside. “I didn’t think this would turn into a thunderstorm.”
Tabitha shivers and wraps her arms around herself. “Are we safe here?”