For that one they had sat in the bleachers and watched August and a client. The man had been a complete son of a bitch, shouting corrections from the corner of the arena, yet his student never seemed to lose her cool, reacting with adjustments so subtle Bailey couldn’t even pick them out.
Logan could. He’d been enthralled, the entire time whispering a running commentary about the skill of the rider and the athleticism of the horse. She had realized that although Logan claimed horses had been his mother’s passion, they were his as well.
Which was another reason she was in the barn today. She meant to get over her fear of them. She wanted to be able to share this with Logan.
Bailey kept to the middle of the aisle between stalls, an uneasy flutter in the pit of her stomach. They were beautiful. And terrifying. She remembered being young and galloping across a field bareback, wind in her hair and against her cheeks, feeling completely alive and totally free.
And she remembered climbing onto the stallion that had thrown her, feeling his power and knowing real terror, maybe for the first time in her life. In that moment she had realized that the twelve-hundred-pound animal she perched upon was in control, not she.
And he had been in control ever since, Bailey thought ruefully. That, she promised herself, was about to change.
“Bailey?”
She whirled around, nearly colliding with August.
He reached out a hand to steady her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“That’s all right.” She took a step away from him. “My fault, I was lost in thought. Excuse me.”
“Wait. I wanted to talk to you. To apologize for my behavior that night at dinner.”
“It’s forgotten.”
“It’s not. Not by me.” He caught her hand again, his grip almost tender. “I was rude, my behavior shallow and … unforgivable. I know that. But I’m asking anyway. Will you forgive me?”
She studied him. He could be playing her, but so what if he was? “Forgiven and forgotten, August.”
“Really?”
She slid her hand from his. “Really.”
“No wonder Logan fell in love with you.” He matched her steps. “Have you come to visit Tea Biscuit?”
“How did you know?”
“A hunch. And tipped off by what looks like a carrot sticking out of your pocket.”
She involuntarily brought a hand to that pocket, then laughed. Sure enough, the top of the carrot poked out.
He glanced at her from the corners of his eyes. “I saw you in the stands the other day, watching. What did you think?”
“Of what?”
“Me, of course. It’s always about me. Ask anyone.”
She laughed again. At their first meeting she had thought him skilled at the art of laughter at others’ expense. She saw now that the skill extended to himself as well.
“Do you want the truth?” she asked.
“Of course.”
They reached Tea Biscuit’s stall and the pretty mare came to greet them. Bailey dug one of the carrots out of her pocket. “I thought you were a total bastard. In fact, it occurred to me that I’d rather take a bullet than a riding lesson from you.”
He laughed. “I knew we were going to be friends.”
Friends? With this man? Bailey couldn’t imagine that happening. Ever. The mare nudged her with her nose, then nickered.
“She knows you have them,” he said. “She can smell them.” He took the carrot from her and broke it into pieces. “Cup your hands, like this.”
She imitated him, and he dropped the pieces in them. “Just like that,” he said softly. “Offer them to her.”
Bailey tried, but her hands shook so badly he had to support them with his. When he did, the horse took the treats, her muzzle as soft as velvet against her palms.
“See,” he murmured, “she’s so gentle. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Bailey laughed. She had done this as a child, fearlessly. It’d felt as natural as feeding herself. Those days were gone, but these may be better, she decided. There was something magical about reconnecting with something so elemental. She would never take it for granted again.
She fed the rest of the treats to Tea Biscuit, this time without his help. “Look, no shaking.”
“I see that. Now, touch her.”
“Touch her?”
“Stroke her neck.”
Bailey nodded and reached out her hand. The mare moved sideways, out of reach.
“She doesn’t like me.”
“She takes her cues from you,” he said. “She picks up on your fear and responds to it. Pet her with confidence. With affection.”
Bailey tried again. This time Tea Biscuit submitted. “She’s so warm. And soft.”
She looked over her shoulder at him, to find his gaze on her. Something in his dark eyes had her wanting to put distance between them. Unlike the mare, she couldn’t just jerk away.
She dropped her hand. “Thank you for the lesson, but I need to go.”
He stopped her, a hand on her arm. “I meant it, Bailey. I want us to be friends. True and I were.”
“Pardon me?”
“Friends.” He lowered his voice. “I loved her.”
His words shocked her. She stopped cold.
He smiled sadly. “You misunderstand. She was a beautiful person. Everyone who knew her loved her.”
Insecurity shot through her. A pang of jealousy. “Oh.”
“I’m sure Logan told you.”
“Of course.” She wondered if he could see she was lying. That she could fit what Logan had told her about True in a thimble. “We share everything.”
“Except what he doesn’t want you to know.”
She stiffened.
“Wait! I’m sorry. I’m awful, it’s why I have so few friends. It’s why True’s friendship meant so much to me.” He searched her gaze. “You’re like her, aren’t you? Not just your looks. Your heart as well.”
“I look like her?”
“Similar. You didn’t know that?”
“No one said.”
“I hope that doesn’t upset you?”
“Of course not.”
But it did. It bothered her very much.
“Let me help you overcome your fear of riding.”
“I don’t know. I was thinking Logan would want—”
“You could surprise him. For his birthday, you could ride together.”
“The end of April,” she said. “Do you think that’s possible?”
“Absolutely.”
It would be a wonderful surprise. A gift for her husband, a man who had everything.
He saw agreement in her expression and broke into a smile. “What a strange friendship we will have.”