“Just throw your leg over. Come on.”
Hannah looked delightful. Her long curls were tied back and she wore a wooly red sweater. A burst of color shone on her cheeks. I wanted to bundle her up.
I stalked into the paddock.
They ignored me until I snagged the horse’s bridle and looked it in the face. It was a mare with a subtle crimp of the mane and tail, completely white and too thin.
“Hey Matt,” said Nate, casual as you please. “Tell Hannah to get on this saddle.”
I glanced at Hannah. She smiled shyly at me.
“I bought her,” she said. “Can you believe it?”
I gave her a flat look. “No, I can’t believe it.”
The tack, at least, was very fine—used, but of good quality. The horse had been groomed recently. I smoothed a hand down her leg and she lifted it, making me smile. Clean hooves.
Then I folded my arms and cleared my throat.
I looked at Hannah.
“You don’t know shit about horses,” I said.
She and Nate stared at me. Was I speaking in tongues? They glanced at each other, then Nate started to laugh and Hannah grinned.
“Well, you don’t have to be an asshole about it,” she said.
A smile twisted my lips. Oh, you’re funny, little bird. I studied her, assessing, smiling. The red sweater … the lippy attitude. I liked this girl. Fuck, I loved her.
I jerked my head at Nate in a gesture that said get off. He slid down from the saddle and handed me the reins.
“She’s a … a Saddlebred,” Hannah said. “She’s seven.”
I stroked the horse’s neck.
“Her name is Written in Verse,” Nate said.
“They always are weird,” I said. “Horse names.”
“True,” he said. “You remember Overtime Magic?”
I laughed spontaneously. Overtime Magic had belonged to Aunt Ella. She was an ornery old quarter horse, nothing magic about her and no overtime in her.
“And Razzle-my-Tazzle,” I said.
“Yeah. Seth got a kick out of that one.”
A hot, uncomfortable feeling simmered up my throat, so I gripped the horse’s mane at her withers and swung onto the saddle. My sneakers felt clumsy in the stirrups. She danced sideways and I shortened the reins. Nate gave her cinch a little tug.
“That’s right, he did,” I said, focusing on the horse below me. I was always a good rider, but I was out of practice. Slowly, I found my equilibrium, weight in my heels, my body relaxed.
Written in Verse hugged the fence.
I leaned down and kissed her neck.
“You’re a pretty lady,” I murmured, “but a little too skinny for my liking. We’ll feed you well, don’t worry.”
Hannah shimmied along the fence and laid a hand on my thigh.
“You look good on that horse,” she whispered.
I glanced at her and felt the pull of her. Her hand on my leg …
God, if Nate wasn’t standing there.
“You look fine on that”—my mouth twitched—“on that fence.”
The corners of her eyes crinkled. She seemed about to laugh, then about to cry. My God, if everyone would quit crying at me.
I tightened my legs against Written in Verse and she walked on, and I took her around the paddock at a trot. That young horse wanted to run. I knew the feeling.
“I’m going to take her out,” I said, nodding toward the meadow.
Nate frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a good—”
“Go ahead,” Hannah said. She beamed at me and I smiled at her. I remembered these compulsive smiles we used to share, like starstruck idiots.
I urged the white mare out of the paddock and took her up to a gallop. That speed always comes with a thrill of fear. Written in Verse ran smooth and fast. I couldn’t hear anything above her hooves and the rushing wind, which was just the way I wanted it.
When I returned to the paddock, the sun was halfway behind the mountains. Nate sat waiting on the fence. I dismounted and he caught the reins.
“Just because I’m talking,” I said, “doesn’t mean I want to talk about everything.”
“I don’t need you to.” He slid off the fence and I looked sidelong at him.
“Do you need to talk?”