Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
She took a deep breath, then gestured around us. “This place may be different from the ranch back in Texas, but it’s full to the brim with the one thing I know we both love.” She stood and opened the barn. A long, wide center aisle was lined with stalls. Inside some of them were horses, but most were empty. “The majority of the horses housed here are either being trained in the arenas or turned out in the fields right now.” Then we stopped at a blue roan gelding with a jet-black mane and tail. His coloring reminded me of dusk.
Beautiful.
Aunt Jeanie stroked her hand down his handsome face. “This here is Rocky. He’s four and just recently broken in. We are gonna train him up to be a show jumper. His sire was a world champion, so we’re expecting great things from him too.”
He was stunning. Moving closer, I held out my hand, and he immediately nuzzled my palm. I was raised on a ranch, raised around horses, but my love for them, my draw, was always more. It was like my soul only calmed if they were near. Riding horses felt more natural to me than walking on my own two feet. It wasn’t a choice to be around them; it was a necessity.
“Rocky—show name ‘Rocky Mountain View’—only came to us last week from Colorado. He’s brand new to Silvercrest.” Aunt Jeanie must have seen my confusion. “That’s what this equestrian center is called.” I took off my hat and pressed my forehead to Rocky’s nose. I laughed as his warm breath puffed against my face as though he was saying hello.
Aunt Jeanie laughed too, then said, “I was thinking the pair of y’all could maybe find your feet here together.” I turned to my aunt in surprise, pulse racing. “He’s yours if you want him, Hallie-girl.” My body filled with warmth. Hallie-girl. My daddy always called me that.
“I’d like that,” I said, feeling the first bit of happiness in days. But that faded when I scanned what Aunt Jeanie was wearing. Then I thought of Jasper Knighton and the pristine black leather saddle he sat upon. “I . . . I don’t know how to ride like y’all,” I said, pointing to my scuffed and faded cowboy boots that had a small hole in the toe.
“Then we’ll just have to remedy that, won’t we?” Aunt Jeanie said. And I nodded, feeling a frisson of excitement shimmy through me. Lifting on my tiptoes, I wrapped my arms around Rocky’s neck, and like he knew I needed it, he tucked his head into the crook of my neck and shoulder, calming my nerves and soothing my sorrow.
As I held him, I pictured Jasper Knighton and his friend soaring over the fences in the arena. I wanted to know what that felt like, to ride like that. I wanted to learn to jump.
I wanted to learn to fly.
Chapter One
Hallie
Age 25
Surrey, England
Present day
“Holyyyyy shiiitttttt,” Sage said as she crushed me, clambering over my lap to look out the window at the most famous and exclusive equestrian training facility in the world.
I pushed on her chest to get her off me, but she was immovable, like a granite boulder. “Sage!” I protested. “I can’t breathe!”
Sage huffed in fake annoyance and sat back in her luxurious leather seat. “Hallie. You’re so dramatic. Who needs to breathe anyway?”
I raised my eyebrow at my best friend. “Er . . . just the entire human population.”
“Pfft,” she said, then batted her hand at me. “Semantics.”
I rolled my eyes at her, then glanced out the window of the town car that was driving us to Golden Oaks Equine Manor. Fields and fields of horse paddocks met us, only to have the center of the facility come into view. I’d grown up at Silvercrest Equestrian Center in Florida, which was arguably the best training center for show jumping in the entire US. But this . . . I took in barn after barn, miles of perfectly manicured gallops, exercise pens, a mass of both indoor and outdoor arenas, and ancient-looking English cottages that must have been accommodation for the manor’s staff, grooms, and riders. Acres and acres of sumptuous land stretched as far as the eye could see, dozens of horses turned out and filling every field.
Even in winter, this part of Surrey was truly an idyllic place, like something out of a Regency-era painting.
“It’s so beautiful,” Sage whispered as she rested her chin on my shoulder, drinking in the view too. I nodded, only to have to drop it when Sage’s awed voice changed to bitterness as she added, “It’s a shame that Mr. Douche Canoe lives here.”
“Sage,” I said, beyond exasperated, drawing out her name to emphasize it. “Can we please go one single day without hearing you bitch about your archnemesis?”