Page 38 of Power

Again, not a question.This guy with his statements.

I let out a deep breath, watching a pair of sparrows dart across the field.

“I could tell you, but you’d probably think it’s silly. Especially with what other people are going through, not to mention what’s going on in the world right now.”

“Scarlett.” The way he said my name made me look at him again. His emerald eyes caught the sunlight, making them even more mesmerizing against his dark stubble and sharp jawline. “Nothing you could say would sound silly to me.”

That ache in my chest grew. Something I tried to swallow down.

“Horses are social creatures,” I explained, watching Buttercup’s ears prick forward at the sound of my voice. “The whole time we’ve been at this stable, Buttercup has had a best friend. Her friend moved last month to a stable not too far from here. It’s like the Rolls-Royce of horse stables. Bigger pastures, more staff so the horses get more attention, more time outdoors rather than being trapped in their stalls, better riding trails, better views, better care.”

“And you want to move Buttercup?” His voice was gentle, understanding.

This time, the pain swelling in my throat had nothing to do with thoughts of Jace and everything to do with guilt.

“I want to give her more than I can.” Just like my mom. “That other stable is really expensive. More than I can afford.” Yet another reason I’d so badly wanted that promotion: it would have given me the means to pay for that other place. “But every time I’m here, I feel like I’m letting her down. I can feel her sadness, missing her friend, you know?” My fingers traced the blaze down her face. “Like, I can imagine how it would feel to have your best friend taken away and not understand why or where they went. And as if that’s not bad enough, now, without her bestie by her side, there’s another horse that’s kind of bullying her.”

It struck me how parallel our existences were right now. Everyday, Buttercup would wake up and worry about that bully horse, worry whether she would get bitten or kicked or chased from her favorite patch of pasture. And come Monday morning, I’d be worried about the same thing with Grabby Hands. He infected my space just like the bully horse infected Buttercup’s. The only difference was that in my life, I had the ability to do something about it. I could go to HR, find some kind of recourse, but Buttercup … she was just an innocent victim, vulnerable to my ability to protect her.

I didn’t realize my eyes were watering until a tear escaped, trailing down my cheek. Jace stepped forward, his thumb gentle as he wiped it away.

“She has you,” he cooed. “The amount of love you have for her is something she can feel. Hell, even I can feel it, and I’ve never had a horse. Had a hamster but …” He grinned, breaking the tension. “That thing escaped its cage. We eventually found him with an Oreo in his mouth, but my mom never let me have a pet again.”

Despite myself, I smiled.

“Someday, Buttercup,” I whispered, pressing my forehead against hers. “Someday, I’ll earn enough to move you to the better stable and reunite you with your best friend.”

It was hard to let go of the emotion of that conversation, but I didn’t come here to feel sad. I’d come here to give Buttercup attention and love, to give her the fresh air and exercise.

“So,” I said, “I thought we could go for a ride?”

Jace’s face fell. His attention snapped to Buttercup, then back at me, all traces of Brooding Sex Lord gone, replaced with horror.

“Both of us?”

“Of course.” I bit back a laugh. “It wouldn’t be much fun, leaving you here with the manure pile while I take her for her weekend trail ride.”

“I’m fine waiting.” He took a deliberate step backward. “I’ll just …” He glanced around desperately. “I’ll commune with nature. Count hay bales. Contemplate the meaning of life.”

I cocked my head, trying not to smirk. “You ride a motorcycle at eighty miles an hour, but you’re afraid to get on a horse?”

“I’m not afraid,” he claimed. “I just haven’t done it before. Plus, Icontrolthe motorcycle. This”—he gestured at Buttercup, who chose that exact moment to snort loudly—“giant animal has a mind of its own. It could chuck us off, stomp on our face, and be back at the barn before we even bled out. Probably stopping for an apple on the way.”

Smirking, I was already moving, gathering the equipment we’d need.

“I’m not getting on a thousand-pound animal with a possible attitude problem.”

Buttercup huffed, as if she understood the insult.

“Buttercup is a perfect lady. She’s thirteen hundred pounds of pure sweetness.”

“That’s … not helping your case.”

“And for the record, you’ll be riding Turtle.” I motioned to the beauty in the stall next to us.

Jace eyed the horse up and down, as if to assess its trustworthiness.

I tossed him a set of riding gloves. “You’ll be fine. It’ll be nice to get some fresh air. Besides …” I arched a brow and deliberately let my gaze drift down his body. “I know a beautiful pasture where we could stop. Very private. No one around for miles.”