Page 86 of Better When Shared (Kristin Lance Anthologies #2)

Hamish

A crisp January breeze made me shiver as I stood with Makai a few hundred feet from our newly constructed stables, watching him eye the horse pastures with the same trepidation I’d once felt facing my first wave.

Six months into our new life together, Imogen and I were well and truly settled at Strawberry Creek Ranch, horses included.

Between immigration headaches and our international move, it had been a bumpy road to get to a stable place, but once we’d committed, the three of us had been all in, and we’d worked together to make it happen.

After spending most of our time there for months, we’d officially moved into Makai’s house in October. Not long after that, things had started to fall into place. Imogen’s bosses at the Bindery Group had set up a lease agreement on my estate, freeing up the funds we needed to truly settle in here, horses and all.

I still found moments like these surreal—me, the uptight homebody, now attempting to coax my adventure-loving partner toward an animal he’d somehow avoided his entire life. His jaw clenched, that telltale sign of nervousness he thought he hid so well, and I fought back a smile as I reached for his hand.

“All we’re going to do is walk past the horses, nothing more,”

I said, giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze.

Makai’s eyes narrowed, his head tilting.

“Why does that line sound familiar?”

I laughed, the sound carrying across the open space between the horse pastures and the adventure tour barn.

“That’s how you taught me to surf, remember? First, we just took a walk on the beach. Then you talked me into trying on a wetsuit.”

I bumped his shoulder with mine.

“By the end of the day, I was on a board.”

“Manipulative bastard,”

Makai muttered, but there was warmth in his voice and the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. He glanced toward the thoroughbreds grazing in the distance, then back at me.

“The difference is, the ocean never kicked me in the head or stomped on my foot.”

“Neither have any of our horses.”

I paused, watching a chestnut mare lift her head to observe us. “Yet.”

“Not helping.”

The sound of footsteps drew our attention, and we both turned to see Imogen approaching from the direction of the smaller paddock. She led a diminutive Welsh pony with a cream-colored coat and golden mane, its steps delicate and measured beside her confident stride. Butterscotch—named by the previous owners but so fitting we hadn’t bothered to change it—stood no taller than Imogen’s shoulder, making him the perfect starter horse for children’s lessons. Or, as I was hoping, for reluctant surf instructors with an inexplicable fear of equines.

I felt Makai stiffen beside me. His hand slipped from mine as he took a step backward, then another, retreating toward the Salish Sea Adventure Tours barn.

“I love you both very much,”

he said, his voice taking on a forced casual tone.

“but you guys can handle the horses. I’ll just be over here with the dirt bikes and rock climbing stuff.”

Imogen giggled, adjusting her grip on Butterscotch’s lead rope.

“Such bravery from the man who jumps off cliffs for fun.”

“Cliffs don’t have minds of their own.”

Makai took another step back.

“Or teeth.”

I closed the distance between us, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Baby steps,”

I said quietly, taking his hand again and tugging him gently forward.

“Just like you did with me. Remember how terrified I was the first time I stood up on that surfboard?”

“You were a natural.”

His eyes remained fixed on Butterscotch, who stood placidly beside Imogen, occasionally nickering softly.

“I was terrified,”

I corrected him.

“But I trusted you.”

That hit home. I watched the resistance drain from his shoulders, replaced by resignation.

“Fine. But just petting. No riding.”

“No riding,”

I agreed, leading him toward where Imogen waited with an amused expression.

“The famous Makai Yamamoto, defeated by a pony named Butterscotch,”

she teased as we approached.

“If only your adventure clients could see you now.”

“They never will,”

Makai said firmly.

“because I’ll deny everything.”

I positioned myself between Makai and Butterscotch, placing one hand on the pony’s neck while keeping my other hand on Makai’s lower back. With gentle pressure, I urged him closer.

“Butterscotch is the gentlest creature on the property,”

I explained, watching Makai’s face carefully.

“He’s been used for children’s riding lessons for years..”

“You never know when they’ll turn bad,”

Makai muttered, but he allowed me to guide him within arm’s reach of the pony.

“Just hold your hand out, palm flat,”

I instructed, demonstrating with my own hand.

“Let him come to you.”

Makai hesitated, then slowly extended his hand, his fingers rigid with tension. Butterscotch, unperturbed by the human drama unfolding before him, stretched his neck forward to investigate, his velvety muzzle brushing against Makai’s palm.

The moment of contact made Makai gasp. His eyes widened, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face.

“He’s so... soft.”

“Softer than you expected?”

Imogen asked, her voice gentler now as she held Butterscotch’s halter steady.

Makai nodded, his fingers cautiously unfolding to stroke the pony’s nose.

“Like... velvet or something. I thought it would be rougher.”

Butterscotch, sensing a potential new friend (or more likely, a potential source of treats), bumped his head against Makai’s chest in a gesture of affection. Makai staggered back half a step, then tentatively reached up to touch the pony’s forelock.

“Easy there, buddy,”

he said, his voice losing some of its tension.

“We just met. No need to get handsy.”

I bit my lower lip to suppress a laugh, exchanging a glance with Imogen, who looked equally delighted by the thawing of Makai’s resistance. This was the man who had taught me to embrace risks, now treating a petting session with a pony like a major victory. It was endearing in ways I couldn’t fully articulate.

“His mane feels different,”

Makai observed, his fingers combing through the golden strands.

“Coarser than his nose.”

Makai stroked along Butterscotch’s neck, his movements becoming more confident with each passing minute. The pony stood patiently, occasionally shifting his weight or turning his head to check if treats might be forthcoming.

“You’re pretty cute,”

Makai told Butterscotch, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, as if admitting a secret.

“For a horse, I mean.”

“Pony,”

Imogen corrected.

“There’s a difference.”

“Whatever.”

Makai’s hand moved to scratch behind Butterscotch’s ear, earning an appreciative head toss.

“So... does he want to be ridden? Is that a thing ponies like?”

I cleared my throat, trying not to smile too broadly at this sudden shift from reluctance to interest.

“Butterscotch is way too small for you to ride,”

I said, pointing toward one of the thoroughbreds grazing in the adjacent pasture—a bay gelding named Wellington that had made the journey from Dorset with us.

“That one would be more your size.”

Makai followed my gesture, his eyes widening as he took in Wellington’s height.

“No fucking way.”

“Wellington’s a gentleman,”

Imogen insisted, though her eyes danced with amusement.

“Very well-mannered.”

“I don’t care if he has a PhD in good behavior,”

Makai shook his head vehemently.

“Not happening.”

Imogen laughed, her breath creating small clouds in the January air.

“I suppose at least we got you near a horse. Maybe by summer, you’ll be able to ride one.”

“Why do I need to ride horses when we have mountain bikes and dirt bikes?”

Makai asked, though his hand continued to stroke Butterscotch’s neck.

“Bikes don’t need feeding or shitting or whatever else these guys require.”

“Because,”

I said, stepping closer to wrap an arm around his waist.

“horses are part of our world, just like surfing and mountain biking are part of yours. It’s about sharing experiences.”

Makai’s expression softened, and he leaned into my touch.

“Fine. But I make no promises about the bigger ones.”

The moment felt perfect—the three of us standing together in the winter sunlight, our breaths mingling in the cool air, surrounded by the life we were building together. Four months ago, I couldn’t have imagined any of this—leaving London, converting our family estate into a hotel, starting a new life on this island with Imogen and Makai. Yet here we were, merging our worlds in ways that still surprised me daily.

“I love you both,”

Imogen said suddenly, as if reading my thoughts. She moved to stand on Makai’s other side, completing our circle.

“Even if one of you is a horse-phobic surf bum.”

“I prefer ‘selectively cautious adventure professional,’”

Makai corrected, but his free arm slipped around her waist, pulling her closer.

Skylar chose that moment to appear, coming from the direction of the Salish Sea Adventure Tours barn, cell phone in hand. She skidded to a stop at the sight of Butterscotch, her face lighting up with unexpected delight.

“Oh my god, my favorite little buddy!”

she exclaimed, immediately moving to pet the pony with none of Makai’s hesitation. Butterscotch knickered and butted her with his head, and she giggled, scratching all along his neck.

“Hello, you adorable little guy!”

“Since when are you into horses?”

Makai asked, raising an eyebrow at his business partner.

“Everyone’s into horses, jackass. They’re cute as hell.”

She reached into her back pocket and whipped out a carrot, and Butterscotch looked for all the world like he’d found his true love as he munched chunks of it out of her hand.

“You brought a carrot?”

Makai asked, looking alarmed.

“Like you were just carrying one just in case?”

“We live on a horse property now, Makai,”

Skylar said.

“Hamish told me the other day which horses were allowed treats. Now I’m always prepared! They will become my minions!”

Makai swallowed hard.

“I mean, it’s not fully a horse property.”

He glanced towards me, and I shrugged.

“The things you do for the people you love, right?”

Skylar asked.

The crunch of tires on gravel turned all our heads toward the driveway, where a familiar Prius was pulling up. Hui’s meticulously maintained vehicle came to a precise stop, and the elderly woman emerged with surprising agility, her red-framed glasses catching the winter sunlight. She waved enthusiastically before turning back to the car.

“Come, come!”

she called, gesturing impatiently.

“No time to be shy!”

Two young men emerged hesitantly from the backseat, both looking slightly dazed, as if they’d been transported to an alien landscape. Both looked terrified and a bit like they didn’t get much sun.

Hui bustled forward, ushering the terrified guys to follow her.

“I got talking to Skylar’s gamer best friends on the internet. They told me they never met her in person. So I brought them!”

Makai bumped me with his shoulder, meeting my eyes.

“Holy shit, Hui is a pranking genius.”

Hui continued.

“They only play games and text. Not healthy! Young people need face-to-face connection! How else would you build love!”

The blood drained from Skylar’s face so rapidly I thought she might faint. Her mouth opened and closed silently, her wide eyes fixed on the approaching trio.

“What—how did you—”

she sputtered, her usual composure completely shattered.

“Oh, it was no big deal. You left your computer open, so I introduced myself,”

Hui explained proudly.

“And I told them they should come out and see you. It’s a good surprise, yes? They are both in love with you, so they will woo you, and you’ll pick one.”

“What?”

Skylar choked.

Makai began to laugh, the sound starting as a suppressed chuckle before evolving into full-bodied guffaws that bent him double. Skylar shot him a look that could have melted steel.

“Your sexting buddies?”

Makai wheezed between laughs.

“Hui started talking to your sexting buddies?”

“Shut up,”

Skylar hissed.

Imogen widened her eyes at me, then nodded towards the stable.

“Maybe we’d better take Butterscotch into his stall and give Skylar a moment to talk to her grandmother alone. Time for phase two?”

She winked at me, then turned, leading Butterscotch back inside. I grabbed Makai’s hand, and tried to drag him after her.

“But I want to stay and watch the drama unfold!”

he protested.

“Come on, it’s time for phase two of your lesson in horseback riding,”

I said, coaxing him forward. His eyes widened.

“What’s phase two?”

”The stables.”

He shook his hands, eyes widening in panicked.

“The horse house? No fucking way.”

“The horses are all safety ensconced in stalls.”

I leaned a little closer so Hui wouldn’t hear, nodding towards the barn.

“And Imogen is naked in there. Gives you a little incentive to try going in.”

Makai only hesitated for a moment, then rushed forward, completely distracted by the thought of our girl nude and ready to play.

“I hadn’t considered fucking in the stables,”

he said thoughtfully.

There was no hesitation as he followed me inside, where Imogen was waiting, completely nude and artfully draped against a stall door, grinning at us.

“Fuck, I love that woman,”

Makai whispered.

“Me too,”

I agreed, feeling happier than I had in a long time.