Page 199 of Waiting Game

Gracie: Of course we are, Mom.

Gracie: It’s on the ice we’re not.

*Ten minutes later*

Hanna: Don’t think I forgot about the neck guards.

Gracie: Leave it with me, Mom.

Hanna: Good girl.

CHAPTER 38

MIA

Peaches - Justin Bieber feat Daniel Caesar, Giveon

“You sure weshould be doing this?” I grumble as I step back from the horse in front of me when it whinnies.

“There’s no need to be scared, Mia,” Camille O’Donnelly, the owner of the stables, assures me. “They’re very gentle creatures.”

Gentle, my ass.

One nearly stepped on my borrowed boot and I don’t feel like having a broken toe any time soon.

Still, Cole’s in his element, which is weird but sweet. As are his cowboy boots. I didn’t know you could tan leather neon pink and green, but Cole apparently worked out where to get them from.

I’m not sure if he’s vain or has self-esteem issues, but getting out of those monstrosities will likely heal both.

As Camille gently tightens the tack, she promises me, “Gloria’s a very kind soul.”

It takes one to know one.

I’ve barely chatted with this Camille lady but she’s already been so sweet to me. I guess she could sense my nerves from the get-go.

Unlike Cole, who, the moment he hobbled out of the car and stepped into the stables, was accosted by no less than three horses who tried to get in his face.

I understood why a couple minutes later—my dude has more sugar in his pockets than a candy factory.

He’s still being followed around by a tiny one like he’s the pony Willy Wonka.

Camille snags my hand and squeezes it. “You’ll be fine on her, I promise.”

I eye Gloria dubiously. In return, she studies me as if she and Camille are not on the same page.

“If you say so.”

“I put the youngest kids on her,” is Camille’s third reassurance.

I’d never even heard of this charity project until Cole brought me here today because he claimed he was getting stir crazy in his apartment.

He’s the biggest baby when it comes to being injured, and the proof of that is in how quickly I agreed to this disaster-waiting-to-happen because horses and me have never gotten along.

I’d have agreed to go cliff diving if it had shut his whining up though—sheesh.

Camille helps me onto Gloria and gently leads me into the main part of the stables, where Cole is waiting.

He beams a grin my way even though I know my posture is all wrong and says in his best Western drawl, “Don’t you look as purdy as a Georgia peach, Mz. Charles. You’d sure win a Ms. Cowgirl pageant if I were one of the judges.”

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