Shannon was in sync with her, anticipating every move as they moved in perfect harmony.
The midday sun hung low in the grey sky, the crisp winter air threatening to turn harsher as thick clouds rolled in.
Shannon was sticky under her feather-filled jacket, her muscles still buzzing from the intense hour-long session.
Harry sat on his usual wooden bench by the gates, his Irish Wolfhound, Jackson, sprawled at his feet. A simple man, Harry preferred spending his money on the animals rather than himself.
His weathered peaked cap and hunter-green jacket showed their age, but it suited him, adding to his easygoing vibe. Where Harry went, Jackson followed.
“Okay, darlin’, give her a long rein and let her cool off. She went well after yesterday.” He lit up a cigarette.
Shannon leaned forward, loosening the girth strap a notch as Trixie slowed to a steady walk. She patted the horse’s strong, sinewy neck, brushing her jet-black mane to the right.
“That’ll do for today. No lessons tomorrow. Just take her out on the bridal paths,” Harry added as she rode past him. “You made me proud yesterday, Shan. I knew you’d win.”
“Trixie did us both proud, Harry.” Shannon nodded toward him, grateful for his constant encouragement.
“You both went well,” he said, scratching under his cap. “You’ve worked hard. It’s a dream to work with you.”
“Aww, Harry, are you getting sentimental on me?” Shannon teased with a playful smirk, the easy banter putting a smile on her face.
A mechanical rumble shattered the Sunday afternoon peace, echoing across the rolling green hills. Harry’s head snapped up, twisting toward the bumpy driveway leading to the main yard.
Shannon’s heart skipped a beat as a sleek, lightning-blue Mustang appeared. The car’s design was immaculate, powerful, and smooth, reminding her of a shark stalking the ocean.
It growled along the curved path, moving to the gravel car park out of view behind the barn. The engine cut out, and for a moment, everything went still.
“Who the hell is that?” Harry asked. “You expectin’ someone, Shan?”
“I-I didn't think he’d show…”
Crunching footsteps grew louder until he appeared.
Jamie.
He strode towards the paddock, his denim jeans tight to his muscular legs, each step self-assured. A khaki fitted t-shirt peeked from beneath a black leather jacket that added an undeniable edge to his appearance.
He moved towards Harry, yet his eyes locked on her like he was on a mission.
Shannon’s pulse went wild as she watched from the centre of the paddock, her breath catching when he held out his hand to Harry.
The way he walked, the way he commanded the space, was enough to make her entire body tingle.
“Hey, nice to meet you. I’m here to see Shannon. Hope I’m not interrupting?” His voice was low, smooth, and unapologetically confident as he flicked his eyes up to meet hers.
The second he nodded in her direction, Shannon’s stomach flipped. The memory of last night flooded her, fierce and blistering, the heat from their encounter igniting a fire deep within her.
Harry looked back over his shoulder, waving her over. Shannon stayed within earshot, but kept a safe distance, trying to regain control of herself.
“Good timing actually. We’ve just finished. And you are?” Harry asked, taking a drag from his cigarette and adjusting his cap.
“Jamie McGrath.” His sexy, almost smirking smile made Shannon’s pulse thrum. “My dad, George, knowsthis yard. I’m guessing you must be Harry? It’s a pretty nice setup here.”
“Thanks, Jamie. I thought you looked familiar. How is George?” Harry asked.
Jamie’s chin dipped, the smile faltering.
“He’s got dementia,” he said, his expression tightening.
