An image of Noah dressed in an Armani suit flashes in my mind, and my body unexpectedly hums. Much like it did yesterday when he prevented me from doing a face-plant after I tripped on the paving stone.
And when he said “Careful, Princess” with his husky voice, well, let’s just say I can’t remember the last time my body responded that way.
Which just proves my body is more broken from the car accident than originally believed. It’s somehow short-circuited.
Yep, that must be it.
“Are you telling me that some cowboy is sniffing around you?” Troy asks, tone wary.
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “He’s a man, not a dog. And don’t worry, I’m positive I won’t see him again. I’m not his type.”
“What type is that?”
Broken. Imperfect. “The type who favors designer labels.” I glance down at Charlotte’s old jeans, boots, and rain jacket.
“You mean high-maintenance?” Troy says on a chuckle.
“Hey, I’m not high-maintenance. Now, Lucinda”—my stepmother—“is high-maintenance.”
“I won’t argue with you on the last part.”
Scoundrel neighs again.
“Sorry, I have to go,” I tell Troy. “The other horse is getting impatient to be fed.”
“Okay, but be careful.”
Why do I have a feeling he’s not just talking about the horses?
I end the call and cautiously open the door to Scoundrel’s stall. “All right, boy. You be nice to me, and I’ll give you an extra treat. How about that?”
He makes a noise and shakes his head. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
I step around his big pile of poop. “Charlotte must have really hated me to do this to me,” I mutter to myself. To Scoundrel, I say, “You only have to put up with me for a day or two. Three at the very most. And then you’ll have someone better to look after you. What do you say? Do we have a deal?”
I take a step closer to him.
He moves toward me.Oh, God. He’s going to kill me.
I take a step back…right into the pile of yucky, smelly horse poop.
“Ewww!” I remove my boot from it and frantically wipe the sole and heel against the straw, desperate to scrape away the disgusting mess. “Seriously, what did I do to deserve this? I’m a nice person. I donate time and money to charities. I even forgave my best friend after what she did. What do the karma gods have against me?”
I swear Scoundrel snickers.
“It’s easy for you to laugh. You’re not the one who’s currently trapped in a 1950s time warp. I notice your stall doesn’t have tacky wallpaper.”
I continue scraping the bottom of the boot against the straw. “That’s it. I’ll have to burn these boots after I’m finished here.”
Get a grip, a voice in the back of my head says. It’s the same voice that helped me during the early days after the accident, when I felt like giving up during physical therapy.
If you could survive that, it reminds me,you can survive stepping in horse shit. You’ve been through hell and survived. You’ve got this.
I let out a long huff. It’s right. This is nothing compared to what I’ve been through. It’s just horse poop. It’s not an alien that’s planning to annihilate me.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Scoundrel. “I’m better now. How about we get going with this? I’m sure you’re dying to hang out in the pasture.” I put the lead rope over his neck, then slip his halter onto his head and over his ears. “Good boy,” I coo.
Once I’m finished, I take him out of the stable to join Lady. A few minutes later, he’s tied to the metal bar and eating his breakfast.
