Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“Relax,” Jensen says, though he wasn’t even looking at me. “Horses can smell fear.”
I’m starting to think you can smell fear too, I think.
“That’s bears,” I tell him.
“Them too.” He slides the barn door open. “But we’re not riding bears.”
The barn is already busy, Cole and Hank leading horses out the other end, Eli mucking stalls. He barely glances our way as Jensen guides me to a stall where a stocky chestnut horse regards me with liquid black eyes. I stare right back at the horse, taking in a deep breath through my nose, the sweet smell of hay filling it.
“This is Duke,” Jensen says. “He’s steady. Reliable. Good with beginners.”
Duke’s ears flick back. I try not to take it personally.
“First lesson,” Jensen says. “You need to know how to tack up your horse. When we’re out there in the mountains, I might not always be able to help you. Before that though, you have to introduce yourself to your horse. He has to get to know you and you have to know him. No secrets.”
He slides open the stall door and gestures for me to step inside.
I take another fortifying sip of coffee before I enter and he takes it from my hand, placing it on the cement floor outside the stall. Then he steps behind me, close enough that I can feel his body heat in the cool morning air. “Step one,” he says, his breath warm against my ear as he reaches down and grabs my hand. Instinctively I want to rip it away, but his grip is strong, his palms lightly calloused. He raises my hand toward Duke’s muzzle. “Let him smell you.”
Duke exhales hot hair from his nostrils and Jensen’s hand drops away, leaving mine feeling bare.
“There,” he says, still standing right behind me.
Duke lowers his head so his lips brush against my hand, floppy and velvety-soft. I can’t help but giggle. He flaps them over my knuckles, then nuzzles me.
“Alright, now he’s looking for a treat,” Jensen says with a chuckle. “I’ll tell you what.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls something out, then slips it into my palm, cool and round. “He’ll appreciate that. Just turn your hand over and hold out your palm completely flat.”
I do as he says, revealing a white-and-red peppermint candy. “Really?” I ask him.
He gives me a fleeting smile. “It’s his favorite.”
Already Duke’s lips are flapping over my palm and Jensen reminds me again to stay still and keep my palm open. The horse gobbles it up, teeth gently razing over my skin, then starts crunching loudly on the candy, raising his nose in the air comically.
“There. Now he’s your best friend. You just wait a minute and bond and I’ll get the tack.”
Jensen slips out of the stall, leaving me with Duke. For a moment I panic, even though it’s silly. All my trauma came from falling off, not from a horse doing anything to me on the ground. Still, I have to take some calming breaths until I feel myself relax.
Tentatively I place my hand on Duke’s shoulder, making his coat twitch briefly. He continues to happily munch away and I feel myself being calmed by him somehow.
Then Jensen returns with a bridle, small blanket, and saddle, and suddenly I’m nervous all over again. I just can’t tell if I’m anxious around Jensen because I feel attraction to him or because I’m scared of him. Not sure which I prefer.
“Nice to see you’ve made friends,” he comments. “Now, generally a horse would be wearing a halter and we’d have him tied up in the cross ties, saddle going on first, but he’s not going anywhere, so we’ll start with the bridle here.”
He places the saddle on the ground, leaning against the stall wall, then takes the bridle up to Duke’s face. His hands move with practiced efficiency, explaining each strap and buckle. The horse stays perfectly still for him, like they share some silent understanding that this is all for my benefit.
“Your turn,” Jensen says, slipping the bridle off and handing it to me before he takes a step back.
I take the bridle, trying to mirror his movements. Duke tosses his head, making me jump aside.
“Steady,” Jensen murmurs, though whether he’s talking to me or the horse, I’m not sure. His hand closes over mine, guiding it to Duke’s muzzle. “Start with the bit. Like this. Firm but gentle. You have to be confident. Show him who is boss. Show him he’s safe with you.”
His calloused fingers are warm against my skin, and I’m suddenly very aware of how close he’s standing. He smells like leather and coffee and something wild, like sage crushed underfoot.
“Now with the bit,” he says, voice low. “You have to…”
“I’ve got it,” I say quickly, stepping away from his heat. Duke gives me a look that seems to say he’s not convinced.