Page 32 of The Brave and the Reckless (Bravetown #1)

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E SRA

I hadn’t been sure whether he’d show up at the stables. I wasn’t even going to come myself. What kind of masochist decided to spend her day off sitting uncomfortably on a wobbly saddle, riding next to the man who had insulted her for wanting to sleep with him? The stubborn kind.

Lucas had sent me an excited late-night message about the thousands of views our first video was racking up.

That had made the decision for me. I didn’t check the post or the comments to see if people were just hate-watching it.

It didn’t matter. I just knew that I couldn’t let another thing slip away from me.

I liked being Annie Lou. I liked doing the shows.

I liked meeting the kids and making their good days even better.

And even if it was only until October, I wanted to keep doing it.

If I had to jump on to a galloping horse to stay Annie Lou, I’d just have to learn how to.

Noah greeted me with a perfectly fine “good morning”, but I glared at him hard enough to shut him up.

He only spoke to introduce me to Crumble, a caramel-colored horse that was at least a foot shorter than Tornado, and to give me instructions on getting in the saddle.

He wordlessly handed me a pale beige cowboy hat made from thick straw, not even looking me in the eye.

Since he was already wearing a hat, I doubted this was some sort of commentary on our fight last night.

I chose to believe that he was just giving me the hat because the sun was already high in the sky, making the air flicker above the rooftops, and he didn’t want me to fall off the horse from sun stroke.

I thought he’d lead the horse around on a leash for a bit to give me a quick Horseback Riding for Dummies lesson. Instead, Noah swung himself into Tornado’s saddle and Crumble dutifully followed the other horse down a small path and away from the paddock.

I’d sat on Tornado often enough not to panic, but I was acutely aware of the drop to either side of the saddle, and the lack of harness around my waist.

“Where are we going?” I asked, when Noah opened a gate that led out of Bravetown’s perfectly enclosed microcosm and on to a signless dirt road. The kind of road an ambulance couldn’t get to if you were thrown off a horse.

“It’s a beginner’s trail,” Noah said. “We’re basically circling Wild Fields and coming back here.”

Okay, circling the town wasn’t going to kill me. That was fairly safe. “Shouldn’t we do some basics first? ”

“No,” Noah chuckled. Tornado fell into step beside Crumble, walking slower to make up for his longer legs. “You already know how to move with a horse. You just don’t trust yourself to stay in the saddle. So you’re going to stay in the saddle for a few hours.”

“A few hours?” I echoed, ignoring that he’d seen right through me.

“Don’t worry, I brought snacks.”

“Oh yeah, because my primary worry about staying on horseback for a few hours is whether or not I will starve to death.”

He reached behind himself into the saddle bag and pulled out a beautiful bright-orange bag of mini peanut butter cups. My traitorous stomach rumbled in response as if I hadn’t had breakfast. Noah chuckled and opened the bag for me, holding it out. My kryptonite.

I glanced down at where my fists clenched around the reins, and the chasm between our horses that I’d have to reach across to get my hands on the chocolate.

“God, you’re annoying,” I huffed and straightened out, eyes back on the road.

“They’re right here when you’re ready,” he said and packed them away again. At least he had the decency not to eat any in front of me.

We stayed quiet for a while, and I watched our surroundings change.

We left the stockade and Western buildings of Bravetown behind.

In their place, lush grassy plains stretched out to my right side, dark emerald hills rolling in the distance, while trees bordered the road on Noah’s side.

Had he given me the side with the view on purpose?

I was watching a small plane pass overhead when I realized that this place was quiet.

Not artificially so, like the sensory deprivation tank I’d tried once.

We were out in the open, but there were neither cars nor people.

Only buzzing insects, rustling leaves and two horses trotting along.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever been anywhere this perfectly, naturally quiet before.

It wasn’t until we had to file through another gate and my thighs tensed around the saddle that I noticed I hadn’t been squeezing my knees together to stay upright like I usually did on Tornado.

“Something feels strange about riding Crumble. Is it the saddle? Is it because she’s smaller?

Why does this feel so different?” I asked when Noah led us down a path surrounded by trees.

My bare shoulders welcomed the shade. I didn’t burn easily, but we’d been out in the sun for an hour or two, and my racerback top didn’t cover much skin.

“Crumble’s a Tennessee Walker,” he explained. “Her breed is known for having a smooth gait. You don’t get jostled around as much.”

“Oh, yeah, wow. Huh.” Crumble’s head bobbed up and down but from the shoulders back, she was perfectly balanced out. “Oh my god, this is actually nice.”

“You like riding now, princess?”

“I’ve liked riding for a long time, just not on horseback.” The words were out faster than I could recall why we’d been quiet the whole morning in the first place. “Don’t reply to that. I don’t want to fight.”

“Okay.”

I watched Noah for any sign of resurgent maliciousness, but he just tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes at the rustling leaves overhead.

If I hadn’t still been mad at him, I would have stared at the flexing muscles in his neck, the sharp contour of his jaw or the way the warm sunlight brought out a few flecks of green in his pale blue eyes.

But I was mad at him, so I bit my tongue and fixed my eyes to my horse’s twitching ears.

“Can Crumble do the show?” I asked. “I’d much rather be abducted like this.”

“No, she’s too small,” he replied, “and I’m not starting her in shows.”

“What does that mean?”

“Crumble is a great horse for beginners and people who have balance issues. It would be a disservice to make her learn tricks and routines for stunt shows.”

“Are you, like, the master of horses at the park or something?”

“No.” He laughed, and it was such a chesty and pure sound that I just now realized I’d never heard it before. “Tornado, Cookie and Crumble are my horses. I just get to keep them at the park.”

“Really?” I leaned down slightly and carefully slid a hand to Crumble’s neck to give her a light pat. “You’re so sweet, and you let that grumpy old man sit on you? I hope he’s treating you nice. Giving you all the carrots you could dream of.”

“The grumpy old man thinks we should take a break over there.”

Noah led us toward a small pocket off the side of the track where two benches had been set up.

He was off Tornado in an instant and tied him to the back of one of the benches.

He looked like he’d done this a hundred times before.

Maybe he had. Completely at home on horseback and in the countryside, somewhere between the trees.

Crumble whinnied under me and tapped her hoof against the ground.

“Okay, no need to be impatient,” I muttered.

We’d been over this. Swing one leg over the saddle, keep my weight on the leg still in the stirrup, pretend it’s a ladder.

This was fine. Crumble was smaller than Tornado.

Even if I dropped, it wouldn’t be far, and the ankle braces inside my boots would absorb the worst of it.

I inhaled, closed my eyes for a moment, then swung my weight back.

Somehow, I got both my feet planted securely without getting hurt. I’d done it. A light laugh burst from my chest.

I turned to find Noah just two feet away, hands outstretched as if he’d been ready to catch me.

“Good job. I think you’ve earned yourself some chocolate.”

Unfortunately, Noah’s idea of a snack was all healthy foods, aside from the peanut butter cups. He’d packed fruits and veggies, some crackers, trail mix and two bottles of water. He even had one of those soccer-mom lunch boxes that allowed him to put everything in different compartments.

I was nibbling on my fifth piece of chocolate and had just slid Crumble one of the carrot sticks when a low rumble overhead made her ears twitch.

“Was that thunder?” I glanced up at the green roof above us.

“Yeah,” Noah huffed. He clicked the lid back on to the box. I’d barely unfurled my legs from beneath me by the time he’d packed up. “I thought the birds were acting strange earlier, but the forecast said it wouldn’t roll in until tonight.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you speak bird language?”

Noah sighed and put Crumble’s reins back in my hands. “They get into a feeding frenzy before storms.”

“God, you’re like a real country boy. Did you get to play outside in the mud as a child?”

“Yeah, of course.” He pressed a hand against the small of my back to turn me toward the saddle. “Hop on, so we can get out of here.”

Another wave of thunder rolled across the sky, making both horses snort their disapproval. I swallowed. I didn’t want to be on a horse during a storm. What if it ran off scared? What if it slipped?