“You don’t expect her to give you a high five, do you?”
I shot him an annoyed glance and copied him, running my hand along the horse’s side, skimming her mane with my fingertips. Bess allowed the attention with a sort of bored air for a minute or so, then dipped her neck, jostling my baseball cap off my head on the upswing. The sudden movement made me jolt, much to Hank’s amusement.
“Fuck you,” I huffed without heat, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “Sorry for the language, Bess. Your owner is a dick.”
Hank chuckled. “I promise you, she’s a gentle soul. She’s playful, too. Here. The best way to make friends is with food. Want to give her a carrot?”
“No, thanks. I need my hands to hold my stick. If she takes a bite out of me instead of the carrot, I’m toast.”
Hank grinned, pulling a carrot from his pocket and feeding it to the horse. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be this nervous.”
“I’m not nervous. I’m just…cautious.”
“Hmm.”
I studied the horse and owner for a moment, their heads bent as Hank stroked her muzzle and fed her treats, whispering sweet nothings. I didn’t have to know anything about animals to know they had a strong bond. Hank’s voice was calming, his hands sure and soothing. Honestly, I was a twinge jealous of Bess. I would have loved to have his hands all over me.
Christ, look at him. Hank could have stepped right off that billboard in his form-fitted jeans, leather jacket, and yes…that fucking hat. I tore my gaze away to avoid embarrassing myself in front of Bess and scanned the fields surrounding the Cunningham ranch and the majestic mountains in the distance.
Yellow wildflowers and daffodils popped through the patches of grass interspersed with traces of snow, dotting the vista in gold and green till it met the blue horizon. A few other horses were in the paddock adjacent to a big red barn, and beyond that was a copse of trees leading to a sprawling ranch house.
It was peaceful and serene, like Elmwood…minus the Rocky Mountain backdrop.
“Do you live here?” I asked.
“No, I have a condo nearby.” He tilted the brim of his hat and glanced toward the house. “It was a nice place to grow up, though. My brother and sister and me used to run wild, playing hide-and-seek, fishing with homemade rods, and riding horses down deserted country lanes with a posse of cousins and school friends. It’s weird that it’s so quiet now. Everyone is gone but my dad.”
“How’s he doing?”
Hank shrugged. “Same. He’s…mercurial. Cranky some days, weirdly pleasant other days.”
“Weirdly? Is he usually cranky?”
“Nowadays, yes. Not when I was a kid, though. He was a lumberjack superhero, a rock god, and a cool action star all wrapped in one. I idolized him. I thought he could do no wrong.” Hank’s lips tugged at the corner. “The real truth is that he’s kind of an ass, but it was a sweet illusion at a time we needed it most.”
“What do you mean?”
“My mom died when I was five, and Dad just…made things okay when they weren’t. He stepped up, spent time with each of us individually and together. My brother loved football.” Hank pointed at the field. “You’d see them out there tossing a ball around for hours. My sister was a theater kid. He helped her recite lines and of course, we went to all of her plays.”
“And you were the horse kid,” I guessed.
“Yep. Horses were Dad’s passion too, so I probably got more of his time than anyone.”
“That’s cool.”
“Maybe. He’s a piece of work too,” he said cryptically. “I try to remember the good parts when he’s driving me batshit crazy and asking me to track down hockey stars.”
I smiled. Hank’s easygoing repartee had a nostalgic bent that invited shared experiences. I suddenly wanted to tell him about my dad. He’d been a superhero too, the biggest star in my galaxy. I had good memories, I had great stories, I had so much to say, but?—
I slammed my mouth shut and swallowed the words.
“Do your clients know how to ride, or do you teach them?”
Not the smoothest topic change ever, but Hank didn’t seem to notice. “Your skill level isn’t important on the right horse. Bess is ideal. She’s gentle, sensitive, and wise. She’ll be perfect for you.”
I pointed at my chest. “For me?”
“Yeah, you. C’mon, let’s put a saddle on her and?—”
