Page 15 of Pick Me

I stood outside my apartment on the sidewalk, scanning the morning rush as I waited for Owen to pick me up for horse school.

I had no idea what kind of car he drove so every passing vehicle was fair game. Was it going to be a sensible Honda? An electric

car? Something that belonged outside the city, like a pickup truck?

I moved under the meager shade of a tree that had seen far too much canine marking to actually flourish. Owen told me to wear

jeans and sneakers or boots, none of which were ideal for the late June heat. Thankfully we were meeting at eight so I wasn’t

sweating too much yet.

A delivery truck in a no-parking zone right in front of me pulled away and a black Wagoneer took its place. Owen waved at

me through the windshield.

I didn’t realize that he was hat-free until I was sitting next to him in the blessedly cool car. My heart did an unexpected

jig when he smiled at me.

“Good morning,” he said. “Ready to meet some new friends?”

“So ready! Honestly, I don’t think I’ve even touched a horse since I was like ten. Which I guess was obvious since you picked

up on it in Rogue .”

Owen slid into traffic. “Now, hold on, I never said that. I said you could enhance the story with more details. I loved the dynamic you created between Trent and his horse Wildfire. It felt very real to me. You’re good .”

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and I wondered if the heat in my cheeks was obvious.

“Well, thank you. That was just from watching a bunch of YouTube videos.”

“Impressive. I can only imagine what you’re going to do with hands-on knowledge. And then once we make the Kai thing happen?

You’re going to be unstoppable.”

We. Owen and I were a team in the forthcoming Kai connection. Kai-nection?

I’d assumed Owen’s sloppy sartorial choices were a lifestyle, but there wasn’t a single crumb or balled-up receipt inside

the car. And not only was he hatless, but he was also dressed like he actually cared how he looked, in jeans and a navy golf

shirt/button-down hybrid that made my black tank top, washed-out jeans, and sneakers feel junky in comparison.

“I’ve been thinking about your next steps on the court, and we need to start group play,” Owen said as he zipped through a

yellow light. “Private lessons are great for building your foundational skills, but pickleball is a team sport.”

It was a leveling up that I didn’t feel quite ready for yet. I liked practicing in the deserted club, with just the two of us and the occasional Marti cameo.

“Yes?” he asked. “Do you agree?”

“I mean, yeah? But with who? CPA members are great players, so who’s going to want to dumb down their game for me? Meredith

is obviously out. I could probably get Colton for a mercy round or two, but we need a fourth.”

“Fair point. You’re not ready to ask Kai quite yet. I’m sure I could rope someone in, but what if you try a public court too?”

I looked over at him with wide eyes. “You mean play with three complete strangers ?”

Owen took his eyes fully off the road to glance over and laugh at me. “Well, yeah. That’s a big part of the game. Unless you

come to the sport with friends, it’s how you build your community.”

“But... but...” I sputtered. “I still don’t understand all of the rules!”

“That’s the beauty of a public court; I can guarantee that someone else will. Just tell them you’re a novice. You’ll be fine.”

I stared out the window and imagined showing up to one of the courts dotting the city. Thanks to Owen, I was learning the

unwritten rules of playing at CPA, but I assumed that public courts had their own ecosystem and bylaws that were different

from the fancy club vibes. Not understanding them plus my sketchy knowledge of scorekeeping spelled disaster.

“If you want, I’ll go with you the first time.”

My heart warmed at yet another unexpected kindness from him. I glanced over to take in his profile as he navigated the traffic.

“Owen, that’s too much. You’re already doing a ton to help me; you don’t have to.”

“It’s no big deal,” he pshawed, still staring ahead. “Plus, it might be good for me to get out with regular players for a

change. CPA is sort of a heightened reality. The members are all high-level players in a rarified setting. It’s not a typical

pickleball experience.”

“So you’re saying that a public court will probably have more seniors and crappy players?” I paused to consider it. “I could probably take down a seventy-year-old.”

“Look at you, trash-talking.” He chuckled. “You’d be surprised; you think they’re at a disadvantage because of their age,

but what you’re forgetting is they have the time to focus on strategy . So you might have speed and agility going for you, but they’re playing chess. They’re gonna stand at the kitchen line and

swat down every ball you try to hammer home.”

“Like I need to be humbled more,” I complained.

“It’s all part of the process. Losing helps you grow as a player, trust me.”

The landscape transformed from a thousand lanes of traffic to six, then four, then two, until we ended up on twisty, narrow

back roads lined with lush green trees.

“How did you wind up in horse world?” I asked him, a little mortified that I hadn’t used the drive to uncover Owen’s backstory.

His jaw flexed and he gripped the wheel a little tighter. “I spent a couple of years chasing down all of the weird stuff I’d

always been curious about. Trying on different lifestyles. So I spent time training to be a rafting guide out in Colorado,

and I learned how to make cheese in Switzerland. I got my pilot’s license. Learned how to tango in Spain. And I’d always loved

horses so I spent time working at Evergreen Stables.”

It was a Pandora’s box of information that didn’t compute. Was it all an effort to find a career path? Because pickleball

coach and cheesemonger were at opposite ends of the work spectrum, if they even existed on the same chart at all. And what

was the tango thing about?

“Rafting?” I sputtered. “And you can fly a plane? What kind of cheese did you make?”

“All kinds.” He laughed. “But the specialty was obviously Swiss cheese.”

I tried picturing him in the various roles. Rafting guide? Sure, that made total sense. I’d feel safe with Owen fitting a

life vest on me and then helping me navigate rapids. Pilot? Totally on brand, because he had an eye for detail that meant

the souls on his flights would always reach their destination. But the cheese, dance, and horse stuff were all beyond me.

“Okay, I guess my biggest question is why ?” I asked. “Is there some sort of through line that I’m missing?”

A shrug. “I was lucky enough to spend time letting my curiosity lead me.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I tried to come up with a polite way to ask about the intersection of curiosity and

finances.

“But, like... how?” I managed.

“Easy,” he replied with a tiny shrug. “You do your research, book a ticket, and go.”

I had a feeling that he knew exactly what I was asking, and the gentle brush-off was his way of telling me that it was none

of my business. I had plenty of time to unravel the mysteries of Owen Miller, so I opted for a side step rather than pushing.

“How did you wind up at this barn?”

The verdant green around us opened up to long stretches of fields dotted with horses and cows alike. We were definitely getting

closer to the farm.

A quick frown, then his profile settled into his usual neutral expression.

“I’ve always thought the cowboy lifestyle was cool, so I looked into farms that were sort of close to the city to try riding.

I picked Evergreen because they had the best website, not realizing that they’re an English riding barn, not Western. ”

“Ooh, ooh, I actually know the difference between them!” I waved my hand as I interrupted. “English is formal and Western

is more relaxed.”

“Exactly.” He nodded. “I probably should’ve switched to a different barn when I realized that Western was a better fit for

me, but...”

Owen trailed off, and I stared at him while he seemed to collect his thoughts.

“The horse girl?” I asked softly, convinced that I was really overstepping.

“The horse girl,” Owen agreed. “She boarded at Evergreen. And Ivy, the owner, had lost a couple of employees and needed help,

so I wound up working there for a while.”

I couldn’t resist pushing a little more, since he hadn’t shut me out quite yet. “I’m guessing you and the horse girl didn’t

ride off into the sunset together?”

“Nope, not even close.” Owen huffed out a hollow laugh.

“When did it all happen?”

“We finally stopped talking a year ago,” he replied.

His use of the word “finally” suggested that it was a long, messy breakup. I wanted to know all the details about the woman

who’d clearly picked the wrong man. Everyone agreed that Owen was amazing, so why couldn’t she see it too?

“Have you been back since... everything?”

He shook his head. “This is my first trip.”

My heart pinched at the realization that he was making the journey for me.

But then again, maybe he had an ulterior motive?

Was I just his conduit for some ex sleuthing?

Not that I blamed him. I’d done my time spying on Leo online, and once, in a moment of desperation, I’d staked out the coffee shop I’d seen him post about.

“Is there a chance she might...?” I trailed off when I saw his jaw clench.

Owen cleared his throat. “No, Sophie only goes to the barn on the weekends. But we might have a Josh sighting. He’s an instructor

so he’s there plenty.”

“Josh?” I stared at his profile, waiting for him to continue, and he finally glanced over at me.

“She had the two of us fighting over her for a long time, and then she made her choice. It obviously wasn’t me.”

“ Ouch ,” I said in a low voice. “A love triangle is one of the least liked tropes in Romancelandia. I’m sorry you had to go through

that.”

“Lesson learned,” he replied. “Anyway, today isn’t about me. This is about helping... What’s your cowboy’s name in this

book?”

“Austin.”

He bobbed his head. “Once we get done with this, Austin will be able to teach his lady the finer points of grooming and tacking

up. It’s not romantic per se, but I’m sure you can make it all bated breath and fluttery feelings. Maybe he’ll put his hand

on top of hers to show her how to use the currycomb?”

I watched Owen’s eyes flick to my hand, and for a second, I thought he was going to demonstrate.

Which wouldn’t have been the worst thing. I knew how comforting it felt to have his warm hand wrapped around mine.

“Anyway, I hope it’ll be worth it,” he added.

“It’s going to be fantastic . I know our focus is on husbandry stuff, but... will I be able to ride a horse?” I squeaked out.

“Hell, yeah, of course you will.” He laughed. “I made sure that a lesson pony would be available while we’re there.”

Owen slowed down and turned onto a long dirt driveway.

“Let’s find you some inspiration,” he said.

The horses watching us roll by all but promised that it was going to happen.