Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
I held on to her hand as we drifted off to sleep, cherishing the time we had together.
CHAPTER 18
Tommy
The sun hung high in the sky and I couldn’t stop looking upward at it. I’d gotten so used to the normality of gray skies that when the sun did break through at times, it was hypnotizing.
“It’s grand, isn’t it?” Fiona said as she adjusted the bridle on her mare.
“Not as pretty as you,” I proclaimed, swinging into the saddle and settling atop a sturdy gray gelding named Murphy. He was a far cry from the energetic thoroughbreds we worked with at the training center—solid, patient, with a thick mane and the kind of calm disposition that made him a pleasure to ride. Glenhaven had a handful of retired horses that were mellow enough in their old age to take easygoing rides through fields and on trails.
Fiona blushed and I loved that I could make this beautiful, confident woman redden in the cheeks. I waited as she made a final adjustment to the stirrups.
“You sure you don’t need help, darlin’?” I teased, watching as she climbed on a mounting block and swung her leg over the horse’s back with practiced ease.
She shot me a look, green eyes glinting. “I’ve been ridin’ my whole life, Tommy Blackburn. I think I’ll manage.”
I grinned as she nudged her horse forward and we were silent as we rode single file along a worn dirt trail leading away from Glenhaven. She had packed a lunch and it was currently strapped to the side of her saddle in a burlap sack. Wildflowers were starting to bloom and the sun was warm upon our faces. The trees lining the path swayed gently in the summer breeze, their branches casting dappled shadows across the ground.
I had to chuckle thinking of our own saddlebred horses back in Kentucky. They tended to be a little high-strung and sometimes spooked easy. Dappled light on the ground could cause a horse to jump sideways in fright, but I always thought that’s what made riding them so interesting.
Birds trilled from the hedgerows, and in the distance, the faint rush of water caught my attention.
Fiona sat in the saddle like she was born to it, moving in rhythm with her horse’s easy stride, her body relaxed and at home in the moment. I still wasn’t used to the sight of her like this—free, happy, her hair loose and wild, the sun catching strands of red and turning them to fire, and I wondered how I fell so hard, so fast. I could’ve watched her like that for hours—completely at ease, lost in the peace of the ride—but then she turned, shooting me a grin over her shoulder.
“There,” she said, nodding toward a break in the trees with a meadow that dipped in the distance. “Ye hear that?”
I did. The sound of water tumbling over rocks was unmistakably louder. A soft, gurgling melody that blended with the rustle of leaves in the breeze.
“Fancy a race?” she asked with a gleam in her eye.
I looked down at old Murphy and didn’t know if he had it in him, but I wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity for Fiona to run and for me to pursue her.
“You’re on,” I said, but the words were barely out before she kicked her horse’s flanks and took off like a shot.
I urged Murphy to do the same, but Fiona must have known the old boy had nothing in him. As Fiona pulled away, my steed kept at a gentle canter as we followed her to the edge of a stream cutting through a meadow of wildflowers and low stone walls that were broken and crumbling in various spots. The water wasn’t deep—just a shallow, winding ribbon of silver weaving through the landscape—but it was clear, the bottom lined with smooth stones, some catching the light like bits of glass. The sun had miraculously stayed out the entire time and there wasn’t a gray cloud to be found. It’s like the day had been planned to perfection, only for us.
Fiona dismounted near the bank in one graceful movement before looping her reins loosely over a low-hanging branch. I followed, swinging down from the saddle and giving my horse a firm pat on the neck before leading him a few steps forward, letting him nose at the grass near the edge of the stream.
“Didn’t expect this,” I admitted, scanning the area. The way the water moved with shimmering ripples made the whole place feel untouched—like something out of a dream. “This is something else.”
Fiona smiled as she untied the burlap from her saddle. “Best spot in all of Glenhaven.”
I walked up beside her, watching the way the sunlight made her hair look damn near copper. She was right. This place was beautiful.
But nothing held a candle to her.