Page 38 of Sweet Like Whiskey

“Knees wide. Like I have much of a choice,” I point out, giving Shorty’s neck a gentle pat. “But we like ’em thick, don’t we? Yes, we do.”

“Christ,” Jackson mutters, turning his face away. “There you go again, babying the animals.”

I snort, pretty sure that’s not what has him so rattled. Leaning down, I whisper to the horse, “Don’t listen to him. You’re a good boy. Even if I’ll be walking funny later, thanks to you.”

Jackson coughs, letting go of the reins. “Think you’re set.”

I nearly squawk, gripping the thin strips of leather tightly. Shorty’s head comes up, and then he takes a step back. “Shit, shit,” I mutter. “I’m in reverse.”

I’m fairly certain Jackson is laughing his head off, but I’m too focused on not coming to an equine-related end to check. I loosen the reins, and Shorty stops, his ears flicking once.Okay. Crisis averted. Now to go forward… I squeeze my legs, but nothing happens.

“Like you mean it,” Jackson says.

I look over at him, lifting an eyebrow. “Shorty likes it rough?”

His lips twitch, but, otherwise, he doesn’t react. Arms crossed, he says, “He’s a horse. You’re a tiny human.”

“Excuse me? Tiny?”

“Squeeze ’im like you mean it.”

“So many things I want to say,” I mumble. I squeeze my legs, getting my heels involved. After a single stutter step, Shorty starts walking. “Holy shit.”

This time, Jackson definitely chuckles. “Try turning.”

Gently, I pull the reins to the left. Shorty turns that way, moving in a wide arc.

“Good,” Jackson says. “Ready to gallop?”

“What?” I nearly shout.

He booms a laugh, and it’s so unexpected and, frankly, mesmerizing, that I stare at him. He never put his hat back on after lunch, so I can see the crystalline blue of his irises in the sun. And his cheeks are pulled into a grin, enhancing the subtle lines at the edges of his eyes.

It’s gorgeous.He’sgorgeous.

“The great Jackson Darling,” I say in wonder. “Making a joke. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, flicking a hand toward me and the horse. His smile, however, doesn’t quite falter. “Why don’t you try having him stop. Just stop, not reverse.”

“Har har,” I answer, pulling gently on the reins. Shorty slows, and once he stops completely, I let go and turn to Jackson. “How’d I do?”

“Pretty good, sunshine. There’s hope for you yet.”

I grin, my insides hotter than that sun beating down against the back of my neck.

Oh, there’s hope, all right. Plenty of it.

Chapter 10

Jackson

Ash makes a few loops with Shorty, getting more comfortable and confident with each passing minute. Watching the way his legs shift, the way his fingers hold the reins and how his ass sways with the slow movement of the horse is a distraction. One I’m doing a poor job of ignoring.

It doesn’t help that he’s smiling wide, that infectious enthusiasm bursting from him like goddamn rays of light. I wonder if he’s an angel. An angel sent to torment me.

You can have him, a little voice whispers.He’s waiting for you to make a move.

I nearly groan.

---