Page 43 of Grave Situation

Sneaky Sweetie.

So far, she’s stepped on my feet—both of them, at different times—shifted so suddenly that I was knocked onto my ass, and overturned the water bucket so violently that it splashed me. Despite all that, I’ve done my best to curry and brush her, check her for ticks and other roadside nasties, and now I’m trying to check her hooves. “Trying” being the relevant word, because she’s not cooperating.

I straighten after my fifth attempt to get her to lift her leg and go to look her in the eye. “Listen, if you want to get a sharp stone stuck in there until it bruises or gets infected so people will say what a horrible person I am, fine. Just remember, though… it’s going to hurtyoumore than me. I’ve got no problem selling you to the butcher for dog meat and finding myself a nice, biddable horse with a decent name.”

She snorts, and I half expect smoke to come out of her nose.

“What are you saying?” Jaimin demands, sounding completely exasperated. “Gods turds’, Talon, are you threatening your horse? She can’t understand you!”

I narrow my eyes, not taking them off Sweetie’s. “Oh, she understands.”

His sigh makes me feel a little embarrassed. This is not how I want the great and powerful master healer to think of me—as the idiot whose horse gets the better of him.

“Are you done?” he asks. “She looks well-brushed. Let’s settle her in a stall and get her something to eat.”

For a split second, I’m tempted to agree. But the fact is, I don’t want to be the asshole who neglected his horse. Even if we are at war.

“She won’t let me check her hooves,” I say finally.

“Oh. Show me what you’re doing. That can be tricky.” He sounds solemn, but when I glance over my shoulder at him, there’s a twinkle of amusement in his gaze. I hate the way he always seems to be laughing at some inside joke. Doesn’t he know that he should be an old grouch like most of the other masters?

“Okay,” I agree. The hoof pick is still in my hand. I can show him. All I have to do is bend over and present my ass to him while I try to get Sweetie to raise her damn hoof.

To my relief, he moves, coming around Sweetie’s side with me to get a better view. Well, a view of the hoof instead of my ass. I disagree that it’sbetter.

Bending, I grab her hoof?—

“No, stop. She won’t cooperate if you do it that way,” he says immediately. “She doesn’t understand what you’re doing.” Suddenly, there’s a warm body pressed up to my side, bent over next to me. His hand covers mine, big and warm and surprisingly calloused, and he repositions my palm higher on Sweetie’s leg. “Start here, and run your hand down her leg. Likethis. A firm but gentle stroke.” He guides me in the motion even as air catches in my chest. I barely notice when my horse lifts her hoof. “There you go. Talon?”

“Yes,” I gasp, bringing my eyes back into focus. “Uh… thank you.” In my defense, it’s not easy to concentrate on a horse when an attractive man is holding your hand and talking in his warm, delicious voice about firm stroking.

As he straightens, I adjust my stance to hide the part of me that would be very happy to discuss his “firm but gentle stroke” technique, and hope he puts the flush in my cheeks down to the increased blood flow from being bent over.

Sweetie hasn’t picked up any stones, just a bit of mud, so I clear that out, then, with Jaimin supervising, check her other three hooves.

It’s a relief when he goes to talk to the inn’s stablehand about food for the horses, and I settle Sweetie into her stall for the night and get her more water. “I guess I owe you a partial apology for the whole butcher thing,” I grumble. “The hoof-cleaning was on me, not you. The rest, though…” I shake my head. “I’ll remember it all.”

She ignores me, drinking some water, and I open the stall door to step out. That’s when she shoves me in the back, hard, sending me stumbling into the thoroughfare… and directly into Jaimin’s arms.

“Careful,” he says, tightening his hold while I get my feet under me. “Are you okay? Did you trip?”

My whole face burning hot—both with embarrassment and from that brief moment when our bodies were pressed together from chest to knee—I step back and look over my shoulder at Sweetie, prepared to make another threat.

She’s watching me. Expectantly. Does shewantme to sell her?

No. Maybe she just wants me to look like a fool in front of Jaimin. That makes a lot more sense.

“Did she push you? I bet she’s impatient for dinner,” he says, moving past me and securing the stall door, then petting Sweetie’s nose. She pushes into his palm, eager for the attention… then nudges his chest, knocking him slightly off-balance. He takes a half step back to compensate, and for a moment, he’s pressed flush against me again. “Sorry,” he apologizes as we move apart. “I’ll go see what’s holding up the feed. You can go up to your room, if you like.”

I don’t look at him, focused instead on Sweetie’s face. “I’m going now,” I reply. “Thank you for your help.”

He pats my shoulder, and I pretend the touch doesn’t burn. “Of course.”

As he walks away, I lean closer to my horse. “I don’t know what your game is, but you can quit it. We’re on very important business. Your job is to carry me where I need to go so I can do my job. If we all do our jobs, none of us will end up dead.” Maybe. “So let’s call a truce, because we’re on the same team.”

She nickers and gives me an innocent look. I don’t know whether to trust it, but since I don’t speak horse, there’s nothing else to do except go up to my room and hope we get along better tomorrow.

While Jaiminand I were getting the horses settled, Tia took all our stuff up to our rooms—for which I’ll be forever grateful. Except when I get up there, I find it’s only one room.

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