We’ve talked about my complicated career situation once or twice in the last two weeks. At first, it shocked me that heseemed interested. But his questions kept coming the more I told him.
“Then they hit you up for the update,” he states, remembering what I told him.
I sigh and lift a hand to push my long ponytail over my shoulder. “Yep. It’s unconventional, and most investors push the creators out before the deal is even done. We made some really special things for the app, though. I take it as a compliment that they wanted to bring us back to the project when the time came to make more content.”
“It’s definitely a compliment. But that’s only going to last through the summer, right? What’s next?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “I’ve thought about teaching again. Gardening classes right out of my greenhouse, maybe. I love educating, especially kids, as long as it’s not in a traditional, stuffy classroom in the middle of a city. I’m probably missing out on some great opportunities, but I want a slower life than that. Out in the open.”
“Two potatoes and a bottle of milk, as long as you’re happy doing what you’re doing, right?”
“That’s right,” I say, smiling toward the pale blue sky with closed eyes.
My bravery is finally increasing, and I let Bob have full control. It’s a funny name for a horse, but Tripp was right—he’s easygoing. So far.
“No matter what I do, I don’t think I’ll need to worry about surviving on milk and potatoes,” I admit shyly. Disclosing the fact that my bank account balance includes three commas isn’t exactly natural to bring up. But I’m still proud of it, and I don’t want to make Tripp think I’m on the struggle bus while panicking over my next job. “Money isn’t important to me, just so you know. But I worked my ass off making that app knowing the potential impact it could have. It paid off. Literally.”
“Damn.” Tripp nods with an impressed look. “Congratulations. You must be smart with your money because I think your car and I are the same age.”
“Yes, I am smart with my money,” I admit with a laugh. “Why trap myself with a new car payment when mine runs just fine?”
He smiles. “I’m with you. But if you change your mind on making good financial decisions, I could really use another rich friend to take over bankrolling my parties.”
God, I’ve been giggling every ninety seconds around this guy. Every time I feel the urge to do it again, I wonder if there’s any end to the number of ways he can make me laugh.
“Sugar mama is not in my job description, so I will not be funding your shenanigans. I’ll come to one of your parties, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure.” I shrug, trying to play it off. In reality, I was already planning to snag an invitation from Savannah when she mentioned something about the one happening here soon. Now that we’re in April, the warmer weather has me itching to sit around a bonfire. “We’re supposed to be friends, remember? Friends go to each other’s parties.”
Tripp’s facial expression changes slightly. Maybe he doesn’t want me there.
“If you come, then you have to lock your keys in my safe. I don’t let my friends drink and drive.”
Sure. And maybe we could play a drinking game, too. Take a shot each time one of us mentions the wordfriendslike we’re trying to remind ourselves of that fact. We’d black out by eleven.
“I can do that,” I agree. “The loft has beds, doesn’t it?”
He nods, pulling a stick of gum from his front pocket and unwrapping it. Regal remains easy in her stride as Tripp loops the reins around the horn of the saddle, pops the gum in his mouth, and stuffs the wrapper back in his pocket.
“I’m going to get this gate.”
I pull on the reins and Bob slows to a full stop. When Tripp flips the chain and pushes the gate to swing away from him, he turns and leans his back against the fence post with crossed arms. He makes a quick kissing sound and Regal steps through on her own, stopping on the other side to wait for his next command. Without prompting, Bob follows her.
There’s a divot in the ground right in our path—nothing more than a patch of sunken earth. I wasn’t at all prepared for him to leap over it like it was a hole full of snakes. Maybe he always does this and it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Still, I didn’t see the sudden movement coming.
One second, I’m in the saddle. The next, my balance is gone. My arms flail instinctively, too late to grab the horn, and too slow to stop the tilt of my body as the world tilts right along with it.
I yelp—loud and embarrassing—and then I’m falling.
Strong arms catch me midair, grounding me in a sudden, firm grip that sends a jolt straight through my ribs. My face ends up buried somewhere near Tripp’s collarbone, and the scent of his sun-drenched cotton shirt floods my senses before I even fully process what happened.
I want to die. Or laugh. Maybe both.
“Points for style,” Tripp says, voice amused but steady. “You trying to fly or just keep me on my toes?”
My cheeks are on fire, but I force a breath and lift my chin to frown at him. He’s still holding me like it’s no big deal while I’m mortified. And weirdly . . . comforted.
