Noah sighed and put Crumble’s reins back in my hands. “They get into a feeding frenzy before storms.”
“God, you’re like a real country boy. Did you get to play outside in the mud as a child?”
“Yeah, of course.” He pressed a hand against the small of my back to turn me toward the saddle. “Hop on, so we can get out of here.”
Another wave of thunder rolled across the sky, making both horses snort their disapproval. I swallowed. I didn’t want to be on a horse during a storm. What if it ran off scared? What if it slipped?
“Sorry, but we have to go,” Noah said. His hands slid around my waist, fingers digging in much deeper than usual now that I wore just a thin cotton top. My legs automatically kicked high the second they left the ground, but there was no skirt to maneuver. I still landed in the saddle just as rehearsed.
“Don’t make me ride through the storm. Please.”
“Trying not to.” Noah saddled up and leaned over to take Crumble’s reins from me. Great sign if I wasn’t even allowed to steer my own horse. Something passed over Noah’s features and he turned his head from side to side, regarding the trail. “All right. I know a place. It’s closer than the park, but we might still get wet.”
“I prefer wet over struck by lightning.”
We made it out from the tree cover within minutes. The blue skies and sunlight had been replaced by low-hanging clouds in bruising shades of gray. Noah sped the horses alittle, and Crumble wasn’t walking quite as smoothly anymore, forcing me to clench my thighs around the saddle and white-knuckle the pommel to stay balanced. By the time the first raindrops fell, we’d reached the corner of a three-rail fence that promised some form of civilization nearby.
Thunder rumbled again and Crumble whinnied, practically shaking her head “no”. Noah reached over to pat the side of her neck and cooed soothing words at her. His white T-shirt stretched taut over his arms while he kept my horse calm without taking his eyes off the road ahead. I bet he didn’t even have to think about it.
I’d known, logically, that he was a small-town boy who was good with horses, but within Bravetown’s perimeter, it hardly mattered. We were all in costume, doing our jobs. At the very most, we were roommates who knew each other’s eating habits. We had our little idiosyncrasies, but were all part of the same thing.
Out here, Noah was the amalgamation of years and years of a life completely different to mine.
He grew up outside, with animals and with nature, whereas my mother had taken me to the park every now and again to see a bit of greenery. When it rained out here, it affected his life, it became something he knew how to work around. At home, rain was something I watched through the window and dodged with an umbrella as I sprinted from our front door to a cab.
I’d thought life outside the city would bore me to death, but I could have watched Noah ride ahead of me all day, just to see all the little ways he interacted with the world.
This man had no idea how surreal he was.
The raindrops turned to thin white threads, washing the colors from the world. My hair and my clothes stuck to my skin. I’d just opened my mouth to ask if we’d be there soon when I spotted the pale blue buildings between the trees, at the center of the fence lines. Three buildings. With each step forward, more of the property came into view. A long driveway with paddocks on either side led to a tall, picture-book farmhouse with a wraparound porch and dark blue shutters on the windows. The other two buildings seemed to be a barn and horse stables. More of Tennessee’s jade hills rolled out behind the farm. If it hadn’t been for the weather, you could have used this as a computer wallpaper.
The entry sign above the driveway read Forever Young Ranch, with a horseshoe replacing the U.
It only clicked when Noah led us down the driveway and my eyes caught his last name on the dented mailbox.
“Is this your parents’ place?” I had to shout over the rushing rain.
“It used to be,” he replied. “It’s mine now. It’s a bit run-down, but it’s dry.”
The implication of his words wasn’t lost on me. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine. It’s been years.” He looked back over his shoulder and shot me an easy smile to reassure me, only for his gaze to drop along with the corners of his mouth. “Let’s get you out of this rain.”
NOAH
“Thank you,” Esra sighed as I handed her one of my old shirts. She stood in the small bathroom, wrapped in a large towel, her tan skin glowing from sunlight and cool rain, her hair curling more than usual.
“Do you need anything else?”
“Something to drink that isn’t water maybe.”
“I can make you some tea. There’s peppermint, green tea, or Earl Grey, I think.”
She smirked. “Okay, yeah. I’ve never had a boy offer to make me tea before.”
“Right. You meant a drink. Sorry. I might have some lukewarm beer left over, but I don’t really…”
“No, tea sounds nice.”
