Summer Nights (Fool's Gold #8)

She didn’t know much about horses, but that didn’t seem like a good sign.

“Why don’t I stay close,” she offered. “That way he’ll be calm.”

“She’s not crazy, boss,” Elias said. “Look at him.”

She’s not crazy. Wow—maybe she could get that made into a bumper sticker for her car. Talk about a way to step up her game in the romance department. Men would be flocking.

Shane hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Be careful,” he told her. “Watch out for his hooves. He’s likely to kick.”

“How do you know that? Has he kicked you?”

“No, but—”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Has this horse done even one mean thing since you got him?”

“No, but—”

Annabelle exhaled. “Why do you think he’s a problem?”

“I don’t. He’s a great horse. Okay? Happy now?”

Shane moved in. Khatar stiffened slightly. Annabelle rubbed his neck.

“It’s okay, big guy. He’s not going to hurt you and I’m right here.”

Khatar relaxed and Shane slipped on the halter. She grabbed the rope hanging down.

“Now I have you in my power,” she joked. Khatar took a step toward her. She glanced at Shane. “I guess I can take him wherever you want him.”

The two men both looked stunned. Again. Shane pointed to the corral where Khatar had been kept before. She led the way, stroking his neck as they walked, his head right beside hers. When they reached the enclosure, she walked him in, closed the gate and then unfastened the rope.

“Home again,” she said with a smile.

Khatar sighed. Or maybe snorted. She couldn’t tell.

Shane secured the latch on the gate. “Annabelle, slowly move to the railings.”

She glanced at him. “Seriously, you don’t need to talk in that ‘let’s keep the crazy horse calm’ voice. He’s fine. Too bad I can’t ride him.”

“You can’t,” Shane told her. “Now please come out of the corral.”

She did as asked. Khatar followed her to the fence, then stared at her, looking lost and a little stricken.

“I think he’s lonely,” she said. “Can’t you pay attention to him more?”

Elias walked up. “Ma’am, that horse is a killer.”

“He’s not a killer,” Shane said quickly. “He’s difficult. Or has a reputation for being difficult.”

“You didn’t find out for yourself?” she asked. “You just assumed?” Annabelle looked at the forlorn expression on Khatar’s sad face. “Maybe you should do a little more checking.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Shane told her.

* * *

THE WORLD LOOKED DIFFERENT from the back of a horse, Annabelle thought thirty minutes later. She was perched on Mason, her friend Charlie’s large horse, hanging on to the saddle with both hands. Although she’d read a couple of books on riding, none of that information had prepared her for how far away she was from the ground.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she said desperately.

The horse stood perfectly still, which was a good thing. If he took even a single step, she was pretty sure she was going to start screaming.

“Just relax,” Shane told her. He held on to Mason’s bridle and patted the horse’s shoulder. “Get used to how it feels.”

It felt too high and way too scary, she thought frantically. A hundred or so yards away, Khatar ran back and forth, keeping close to the fence line as he called out to her.

“If you’re telling me to be careful, I’m so listening,” she murmured, knowing the horse couldn’t hear her. Riding while a horse danced? What had she been thinking? “Maybe I’ll try a car wash instead. That would raise money, right? I can wash cars.”

Shane flashed her a grin. “Come on, Annabelle. I was riding a horse before I could ride a bike. It’s not that bad.”

“I’m too small.” Her short legs were sticking out so much they were practically parallel to the ground. “Does he even know I’m on his back? What if he thinks I’m a bug and decides to shake me off?”

“Mason’s a good horse. You’ll be fine. Now take the reins.”

She shook her head. That would mean letting go, which was so not going to happen.

“Use your left hand,” he instructed. “You can still hang on with your right.”

“I don’t want to,” she whined, but then slowly, carefully, picked up the reins. The thick leather was worn and softer than she would have thought. She still kept a firm hold on the massive saddle, but felt slightly more horsewoman-like, perched there and actually holding reins.

“Now think about him moving forward and gently kick him.”

“What?”

“You want him to move, right?”

“Not really.”

She was up to sitting on a horse while the horse stood still. Everything else seemed a little too risky. She reminded herself this was for a good cause. But kicking?

“I don’t want to hurt him.” Or piss him off. At this point, as far as she was concerned, the horse was seriously in control of the situation.

“Then don’t,” Shane told her. “Like I said. Be gentle.”

She sucked in a breath and lightly touched her heels to his side.