Page 17 of Pick Me

I immediately knew the guy sauntering across the dirt ring toward us was Josh, and even though Owen hadn’t agreed to my fake-dating

scheme, I was going to force the issue.

Owen was focused on lining Cedar up at the mounting block so he wasn’t prepared for my sudden shift to girlfriend mode. He

froze when I slipped my arm around his waist.

I went up on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Incoming.”

A constellation of expressions flashed across his face, and I half expected him to step away from me. Instead, he met my eyes

with a softness that was real enough to make me question if my acting skills could compare.

“Okay,” he murmured to me. “I guess we’re doing this.”

As much as I wanted to assess Josh as he walked closer, I couldn’t tear my eyes from Owen’s. My arm around his waist felt

familiar, normal even, despite the fact that we’d only touched once before. When I wrote about fake dating, I always highlighted

the awkwardness of the initial stages, the fumbling of two people forced to fast-track intimacy. Based on the way it felt

with Owen, I seriously needed to recalibrate my approach to the trope.

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and I melted a little. Damn , he was good.

“Well, hey, man,” Josh said. “Been a while.”

Cedar jostled as Josh came to a stop in front of us, hard enough to pull Owen away from me.

“Hey, yourself,” Owen answered, reaching his hand out to Josh. “Good to see you. This is, uh, my girlfriend, Brooke.”

I was on. I smiled prettily at Josh and nestled close against Owen, like I couldn’t bear to not be touching him. He draped

his arm around my shoulder. “Hi. I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Josh McLain. I’m an instructor here.” He puffed up his chest like he was insulted I didn’t know who he was.

There was no question that Josh was conventionally handsome. Tall, fair-haired, with a regal carriage that was probably due

to years of horseback posture scrutiny. But to me, he looked plastic. His eyebrows were unsettlingly light, making his face

look like it was halfway through a drag makeover.

“Ivy just told me you’re doing something with pickleball now?” Josh asked, sounding incredulous. He crossed his arms and eyed Owen. “Always jumping on the next trend, huh? Good for

you.”

I felt Owen stiffen. “Yeah, I wouldn’t call it a trend. I’m an investor at a club in Manhattan. First of its kind in the city.”

Investor? I had to force myself not to react, because it was news to me. I needed to stay in character no matter the plot twists. I

rubbed Owen’s back and gazed up at him adoringly.

“Huh,” Josh answered. “I’ll have to check it out.”

“Oh, you must ,” I purred, really pouring it on. “It’s stunning.”

Somehow I’d morphed into Katharine Hepburn. All that was missing was a “ dahling .”

“Soph and I are checking out venues in the city, so maybe we can tack on a visit?” Josh said.

My stomach dropped at the casual reveal. I knew exactly what he was implying, but I could tell Owen didn’t have a clue. I wished Cedar would pick up on the absolutely shitty vibes and take off running, so we could end the torture.

“Hold on, you probably haven’t heard the news,” Josh continued. The man looked downright triumphant.

I forced myself to smile pleasantly as the slow-motion car wreck played out in front of me. There was nothing I could do but

cling to Owen as he processed what was to come.

“News?” Owen tipped his head.

I held my breath and stared at him.

“I asked Sophie to marry me. We’re engaged.”

It only took a half second for Owen to collect himself.

“Oh, no way. Congrats,” he replied quickly. The hitch in his voice could easily be written off as surprise, but I knew that

it was deeper than that. I gave him a squeeze.

“Yeah, thanks. It’s all happening really fast. Too fast.” Josh laughed. “But you get it, I’m sure. You’re next, bro.”

I wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to push back. I giggled like Josh had actually said something funny and gazed at Owen.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. We’re having so much fun right now that we’re not even thinking that far ahead. We’re sort of

in this crazy, passionate haze. Just enjoying each other, you know? We’re lucky we made it out of the apartment today.” I

winked at him.

Josh frowned. “Oh.”

“Speaking of, we should get back to Cedar,” Owen said as he bobbed his head toward the incredibly patient horse.

“Right, of course,” Josh said as he backed away. “I’ll have Soph reach out the next time we’re in the city. She’s got your

number, right?”

Owen cleared his throat. “Not sure. We’ll figure it out. Take care.”

Josh touched two fingers to his forehead in a salute. “I’ll tell her you said hello.”

A parting shot. The three of us watched him walk away.

“You okay?” I asked quietly.

Owen let out a long sigh as he untangled himself from me. “Yup. It’s fine. Let’s do this.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I pushed.

“Nothing to say.”

He was wrong—there was plenty of subtext to dissect—but I knew I wouldn’t be able to pry anything else out of him. Thankfully, we had the rest of my lesson

to focus on.

After fitting me with a helmet, we went through an indoor introduction to basics like posture, steering, and stopping. By

the time Owen walked us out of the barn and into the sunshine, we were both fully focused on the mechanics of our lesson and

not the run-in with Josh.

I tried to memorize every bit of the sensation of riding, so I could re-create it on the page.

“Where are your eyes, Brooke?” Owen asked. “He’s veering a little.”

I’d learned that everything I did while riding Cedar telegraphed intent, including something as subtle as where I looked . It was overwhelming to realize that minuscule, even accidental behaviors were enough to impact our ride.

Which was more of an incredibly slow saunter than a real ride.

“There’s so much to think about.” I looked down at him. “Is it crazy to say that learning to ride is like learning to play

pickleball?”

He considered it. “I guess there are parallels?”

“There are ,” I insisted. “Like being aware of what my entire body is doing at any given second and trying to be soft when I feel all tight and nervous.”

I checked my grip on the reins again.

“Well, I think you’re doing great,” he said. “You look like a pro up there.”

Warmth flooded through me. A compliment from Owen was earned .

“I have a phenomenal teacher to thank, then.”

I glanced at Owen quickly, because I didn’t want to go off course again, and I swear I saw a blush.

The barn was fading in the distance behind us as we walked along a well-worn path by the tree line.

“So do you like it?” he asked. “Riding?”

“It’s amazing .” I sighed. I gave Cedar a pat. “To be connected with this guy... it’s a little unreal.”

The “unreal” aspect would also serve me in Archer , which I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. I’d considered where an alicorn’s wings would come out of the body in relation

to a saddle and how a horn could potentially hinder putting on a halter.

The trees rustled as the wind picked up.

“It’s not supposed to rain, is it?” Owen asked as he peered at the sky.

“Not that I saw, but check out the clouds.” I pointed at the horizon.

Cedar added to the conversation with a loud snort and head flick.

“Hey, hey, you’re good, buddy,” Owen said softly to the horse.

Cedar snorted again and then sidestepped.

The wind blew harder, and I saw something flash in the trees in front of us at the exact moment that Cedar shifted his weight back to front.

“Whoa,” I said reflexively, leaning down to lower my center of gravity.

Another gust, and the sun reflected off what I could now see was a deflated Mylar balloon caught up in a tree. I was about

to mention it when Cedar juked away and the world downshifted into slow motion.

I slid off Cedar inch by inch as he bounced around, but it still didn’t give me enough time to grip tighter or right myself.

I knew what was going to happen next—ground, meet ass—but instead of falling down and potentially getting trampled, I wound

up in Owen’s arms.

“I’ve gotcha,” he said as he gripped me tightly.

The combination of the fall and the nearness of him left me shaking with adrenaline.

It was a quick save, which meant that Owen didn’t end up holding me cinematically, like he’d just rescued me from a burning

building. No, he had a firm grip on one arm near the armpit and the other under my knee so I was horizontal, like we were

unveiling our big finish in a jitterbug competition. He let go of my knee when I wasn’t expecting it, so I tripped a little

as I found my footing.

“You good?” Owen grabbed both of my forearms and held on, ducking down to look into my eyes. “You okay?”

I stared at him, nodding wordlessly as his gaze bounced around my face, his forehead furrowed with worry.

Even though I’d almost taken a hoof to the head, all I could think about was the way I felt with Owen’s hands gripping me

and his worried face just inches away.

I couldn’t catch my breath. It wasn’t just due to the fright.

“Well, damn, we weren’t expecting that!” Owen said as he pulled me against his body in a tight, comforting hug so quickly that the air whooshed from my lungs.

It was exactly what I needed. The tension in my shoulders eased as I melted into him. I was a little embarrassed at how much

I craved the grounding sensation of Owen holding me again. I rested my cheek against his chest as his hands skimmed my back.

Too bad Josh wasn’t around to witness it, because we were really selling it.

I couldn’t stop stroking his back. Owen was solid in the best possible way. It wasn’t a gym-bro, calorie-restricting physique

that was hard and unyielding. His arms were strong, no doubt from the hours and hours of pickleball every day, and his chest

felt like the perfect place to have a nap.

“I guess Cedar’s not balloon-proof,” I murmured.

I felt a rumble of laughter from Owen’s chest. “Prey animal mentality. That balloon could be a serial killer, you never know.”

I didn’t want to pull away from him even though the air was blisteringly hot. I caught a hint of Owen’s sun-warmed skin, combined

with what was probably a deodorant called Major Sage or Midnight Summer. Clean, bracing, with plenty of him mixed in.

Our hug was extending well beyond “I’m concerned for your welfare” and into “I like how your body feels pressed up to mine.”

One of us needed to pull away.

I couldn’t. The buzz blazing a trail through my body was powerful enough to make me adjust my grip a little tighter around

him, to reassure him that this was exactly where I wanted to be.

Cedar shifted and whinnied like he was our chaperone, which caused Owen to finally loosen his grip.

He leaned back to look at me. “Should we walk him to the barn, or do you want to ride?”

Owen still had his arms draped around my lower back. Somehow mine had ended up clasped behind his neck, middle school dance–style.

Holy shit , I was touch starved. Being pressed against him was enough to wake up a heat I hadn’t felt in months.

The corner of his mouth curved into a smile as he studied my face. “You’re getting back up there, aren’t you? I can tell just

by looking at you. That’s your determined expression.”

Instead of answering him, I ignored logic and just listened to what my body was telling me.

I went up on my toes and pressed my lips to his.