Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
What I did love was my Sundays. Slade and I still spent all our time together. This was our day.
Another positive was that Slade appeared damned fine in his Stetson. It fit his style and had been made only for him. The hat was pulled down low, snuggly fitting, making his dark hair and complexion alluring. The same with the horse he rode.
His beard hung off his jaw, gathered together in a long braid. The way he tied and tugged the pieces in place allowed his plump lips to show.
“Help me.” Slade’s plea told me all I needed to know.
I tried my best to hide my grin as I picked up the pace, catching up with my beautiful pair, and grabbed one rein. “Sit back and lean into it. You’re playin’ tug o’ war with him. He will win that battle. He doesn’t get what you want. So you have to change your tactic.”
Slade acted as if that was the first time he’d ever heard those words and did exactly what I’d taught him. Pepper instantly slowed.
“Follow your trainin’,” I started in lecture format. “Consistency and…”
“Repetition creates balance,” Slade finished for me. His tone revealed his aggravation. “But you can apparently get inside horses’ heads…I can’t. It’s fucking annoying.”
The grin I hid burst free. “Guess you can’t be good at everything,” I murmured, finally bringing both animals to a stop. I handed over the reins, proud that Slade was able to keep Pepper reasonably still on his own. Since we were close enough to the cluster of trees Slade liked to pass the afternoon under, I dismounted Whiskey and secured his reins. He wouldn’t go far. “I’ll hold on to Pepper. Hang on as you dismount.”
In a show of defiance, Slade stood with one foot in the stirrup, the other kicking over the saddle. Luckily, it all worked out when he landed on his feet.
Maybe a month ago, when Slade realized how much he enjoyed being isolated under the shade of these trees, he’d had two Adirondack chairs brought out. I took Whiskey to the small tank, a man-made pond, for a drink while I grabbed the saddlebag, tossing it over my shoulder. Our lunch was inside. Sandwiches and water bottles, a gourmet feast for the next couple of hours.
Slade stood close to Pepper as he dipped his head, taking extra steps past where Slade led, getting his hooves wet as he drank from the water, meaning the beast was showing who was boss.
Man, the stallion was doing it on his terms. Slade’s phone vibrated, drawing our attention. I didn’t understand how he managed any part of life with as much interruption as he experienced both day and night. General rule, the only person he answered for while with me was his assistant, Tommy. I hadn’t met him or been formally introduced yet, but we’d exchanged laughter together over Slade’s intense focus on everything he did.
Slade answered, and I took Pepper’s reins, securing the horse before taking my designated seat. Of course, Slade had assigned us seats. Mine sat under a halo of tree covering, less sun for my partially fair complexion, per him. As I dug through the bags for our food, his cell phone was placed in my direct line of vision. It took a few seconds for me to understand what I was seeing. A picture of Slade on Pepper’s back. Not from today, but from one of our first riding lessons.
My brow wrinkled as I lifted my head to see about my same expression staring back at me.
“Who took that?” I asked.
“You didn’t?” Slade asked by way of answer. “I’m not mad about it if it’s you.”
“I’m not a picture person. You take the pictures,” I answered with all honesty.
“Right. I just had to ask,” he said and lifted the phone back to his ear, walking a few paces away.
My understanding of our entire operation was that NDAs, non-disclosure agreements, were signed by any person who stepped foot on the property. That only excluded deliveries due to Slade not being a part of that side of our business.
Alarm bells rang.
After all this time, of course he and I were open while on our property. Hell, Slade was only here twice a month for forty-eight hours total. If I got lucky, he might stay a day longer. That had only happened twice.
The water bottle in my hand dropped to the saddlebag at my feet as I stood. My body grudgingly moved a few steps closer to Slade. All the years of hiding rushed forward in a tsunami-size wave. Instead of rushing to him, the love of my life, I tucked my hands in my front pocket and stared as Slade paced several steps one way then the other.
The phone call ended by way of a rammed finger against the screen. Slade didn’t immediately stop the pace or turn toward me. I waited.