Page 14

Bolt ate while Adam brushed his coat.

“Are you not taking your vitamins, boy?” Adam inspected some rough patches and flaky skin. Bolt’s coat had always been sleek and shiny. He pulled a pick and coarse brush from the satchel. “You gonna let me clean your hooves? You know it always feels better afterward —”

The stable doors rolled open.

Adam held his breath, then realized he was allowed there. Heck, he was earlier than the other hands. That should please Clara Mae.

“You’re early today,” Rusty said.

“Yeah,” answered a female voice that was softer — and warmer — than Lala’s. “I missed yesterday.”

“You okay?” Rusty asked.

No answer.

Adam crept to the edge of the stall. It didn’t sound like Lala. Still, he wasn’t ready to run into her again — or anyone she might’ve talked to. He couldn’t peek over the door without letting Rusty and the owner know he was there, so he pressed his ear between the wood pillar and stall door.

“Not trying to pry,” Rusty said gently. “I just wanna make sure he didn’t hurt you.”

Didn’t hurt you ? Had a horse hurt the owner, the reason the girl didn’t come yesterday? Adam realized that the young woman couldn’t be Lala because she’d been at the ranch yesterday.

“I’m okay…” The girl sighed softly. “Thanks to you.”

“That punk’s lucky I —”

“I’m okay, Rusty. Really.”

“Alright, let me know if you want to ride.”

“Thanks. I’m just visiting today.”

“Okay.”

Shuffling. A tap to the wood. Adam could picture the scene.

Rusty was nervous. First shuffling in place, then tapping his boot to the wood stall — like he was knocking dirt off the sole.

The shuffling faded as he must have left the barn.

Was Rusty interested in this girl — woman? Maybe she only sounded young.

Other than birds chirping and horses moving inside their stalls, the barn was quiet again.

Had she left, too?

Soft whispering interrupted the bird chatter, but Adam couldn’t make out any words.

He pressed his ear between the stall gate and beam, anxious to catch a clue about the owner, but a hard thump on his back knocked him into the rough wooden boards.

“Hey!” he barked, spinning to face Bolt. “What the heck are you thinking, knocking me — ?”

He remembered a second too late that he was supposed to be invisible. He clamped a hand over his mouth, then shook his head. What an idiot !

Bolt nuzzled him, but he pushed him back with a pointed finger.

In response, his defiant horse whinnied.

“ You !” he mouthed.

“Hello?” The soft crinkling of wood chips warned of the girl’s approach.

Adam squeezed his fingers around the tools and dropped into a squat next to Bolt’s right back leg.

“Is that… you… Brett ?” The girl sounded nervous.

Adam recalled Lala skittering out of the barn after Brett made eye contact with her.

“ Hel… lo ?”

A tap on the stall door had Bolt looking over the gate, but Adam kept his head lowered.

“Oh, hey!” The girl raised her voice. “Are you the new guy?”

Adam nodded but kept his head down.

She didn’t move from behind the stall door, so Adam continued working.

A couple of minutes passed, and she finally walked off, sighing in the process.

Adam stood and stretched, then crept toward the gate.

Why am I hiding ? Oh, right , because she might know Lala, that’s why .

“Hey, Stableboy!”

Adam froze. Maybe she was talking to a horse.

“Hey, Stableboy!” she repeated, louder, firmer. “You there in Prince’s stall, I’m talking to you. How ’bout you come help me saddle up my horse?”

Bolt followed Adam to the door, flicking his ears at the mention of his name.

Adam nudged him aside, unlatched the stall gate, and stepped into the aisle.

And there she was.

Claire.

Standing just outside Buttercup’s stall, one hand on her hip, sunlight threading through her strawberry-blond hair like spun gold. Her face — so familiar it ached — looked older, but still held that spark, that quiet confidence that had always undone him.

His heart pounded against his ribs like it was trying to break free.

The last time he’d seen her, they were kids at a bonfire party at The Pitts.

She laughed at a stupid joke he’d told, then cheered when he hopped into the back of Thomas’s truck and danced like a fool.

She’d been so sweet, always talking to him about how well he’d trained Buttercup.

Now she looked like a dream — grown-up, glowing, and still completely out of his league.

Her parents were the richest folks in town — he was the stableboy.

He felt clammy all over. Breathless.

She tilted her head, studying him. “You okay? You look… flushed.” She stepped back, a nervous laugh escaping. “I was only teasing with the Stableboy thing. It’s… um… from a book. Well, kind of — not the exact words.”

A cold wave swept over him.

She didn’t recognize him.

Two years hadn’t just changed her — they’d erased him.

Good , he told himself. That’s safer. For both of them — and Peter.

Still, it hurt like hell.

He forced a nod and a half-smile. “Yeah. I’ve read it.”

Claire’s lips curved up in response, her smile lighting up the barn like a sunrise. “Cool! I’m Claire.” She motioned to the stall. “And this is Buttercup. What’s your name? I’m guessing you’d rather I not call you Stableboy.”

“It works,” he said. But then his head rebelled against his heart.

He had to protect Peter — and her, too, really.

So he added, “Thom… as.” The two-syllable word, one he’d said a million times broke apart in his mouth.

Even his head struggled to lie, though the one he’d been telling these past two days was for the right reason.

Her golden eyes narrowed, just slightly. “ Thom… as . Okay…” She gave a little smirk, like she didn’t quite buy it. “Think you could help me saddle Buttercup, Thom… as ?”

He dipped his chin, pulse roaring in his ears. And because some part of him screamed to hold on to the past, he whispered, “As you wish.”