Then her stomach growls like it’s begging for what I’m offering, and like the caveman I am, I growl right back, releasing her.
“Eat,” I snap, pointing at her pocket. “You don’t like any of that, we’ll leave and I’ll take you to a diner. But you’re eating.”
She bobs her head and pulls the banana from her pocket in a daze.
I wait until she’s eating to gesture to the cinch. “It’s loose. You’d have slid right off the second your weight hit the stirrup.”
Georgia hums around the fruit, watching me tighten it, and I do everything I can not to fixate on the sight of her lips and mouth stuffed full of a phallic-shaped item.
Clearing my throat, I check, and double-check, the saddle, blanket, and girth, giving each strap a firm tug before moving to the horse's legs. Just as I look away, I hear the plastic open and I know she’s eating the almonds.
A smile tugs at my lips, but I hide it behind my lapel.
“She’s wearing boots?”
“Wiki said she overreaches sometimes.”
My eyes snap to hers, and she gives me a soft, knowing smile, meadow eyes bursting with hidden laughter. Squinting, I slowly push to my feet, knees cracking, thigh protesting like hell.
“What else did Wiki say?” I murmur, suspicion ghosting across my neck.
She taps a finger to her lips and makes this cute little sound I quickly memorize. Her free hand smooths down Pudding’s dappled coat with so much love and appreciation, the horse’s eyes fall closed.
“Well,” she breathes, moving in a circle. I notice how she’s careful not to get too close to Pudding’s hind legs, like she already knows she could get killed by a back hoof alone. “He said she seems a little cooped up. Restless, like she hasn’t been properly exercised in a few days.”
“No way Wiki knew a fucking thing about that.” I shake my head slowly, confused as fuck, but intrigued, too.So damn intrigued.
She smirks, lifting a delicate shoulder as she pockets the bag. “Maybe you’re underestimating him. He’s smart.”
“He’s young and dumb.” I scowl.
“He’s eighteen,” she says softly, stopping at Pudding’s head. Her fingers move, slow and deliberate, tracing beneath the mare’s eyes. “And he may not be the best, but he’s learning. He needs this job. Be kind to him.”
I wanna tell her to stop bossing me around, but I like it too much to open my mouth. Not only that, but I’m transfixed by the way Georgia keeps her gaze locked on Pudding’s, the horse staring right back, like they’re exchanging silent words—some kind of instant connection between them.
And suddenly, I’m jealous of a fuckin’ horse.
“You talked to Wiki for less than an hour. How’d you find out enough to vouch for him?”
“Wiki talked, and I listened.” Georgia shifts slightly, adjusting Pudding’s bridle like it’s second nature, then runs her thumb along the bit. Her brows dip. “This wasn’t seated properly. Was probably pinching.”
She fixes it in a single, smooth motion and Pudding immediately huffs out a long breath, eyes going half-lidded.
And just like that,I know.
She’s done this before. Not once. Not in some rich girl, summer camp way. This is instinct. Muscle memory.
“Where’d you learn that?” I ask, but it’s not casual. It’s gravel and curiosity and way too fucking intense.
“Must’ve picked it up from Wiki.”
She smirks, mounting Pudding in one perfect, quick motion, and my heart leaps just as my dick rises.
The horse toes at the straw, prancing sideways for a beat, but Georgia doesn’t even blink, just soothes her, cooing quietly. And then she’s at my side, bending down and brushing something from my shoulder.
“Bit a hay,” she murmurs, shooting me a wink. “Try to keep up, sunshine.”
A blink later, my hat is on her head and she's racing off into the goddamn metaphorical sunshine, leaving me in the dust.
