Page 143 of Falling for Love

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Evie

The early summer air was warm and sweet, but I was already at the end of my rope. Macy, the stubborn escape artist disguised as a zebra, stood a few feet away, chewing a mouthful of hay like she had all the time in the world.

“Come on, Macy,” I pleaded, holding out a bucket of grain in one hand and a lead rope in the other. “We’ve been through this. I’ve got stuff to do today, and chasing you around wasn’t on the list.”

Macy flicked her tail, her black-and-white-striped face tilting just slightly in what I swore was a mockery.

The mare had a knack for making me look like a fool, and today was no different.

I tried taking a slow step toward her, but she sidestepped me with the grace of a dancer, tossing her head like she’d just won a gold medal in making my life difficult.

“Fine,” I muttered under my breath, tossing the bucket of grain closer to her. “You win. Just... eat the snack and let me get the rope on you.”

Of course, Macy had other plans. She lunged for the bucket, and as I tried to slip the rope over her neck, she spun on her heels and bolted straight toward the muddy edge of the paddock.

“Macy, no,” I yelled, racing after her. “You’re not even supposed to be over there!”

In hindsight, I should’ve let her go and regrouped with a new plan.

But instead, I went charging forward like some rookie. My boots skidded in the mud, and my feet went out from under me before I could catch my balance.

I hit the ground with a spectacular, face-first splat. The grittiness of mud etched into my mouth and every other crevice.

For a moment, I just lay there, sprawled out like a starfish in the middle of a mud puddle. I could feel the cool sludge soaking into my jeans and shirt, and I groaned in frustration.

But I wasn’t going to let her win.

I had a job to do.

The sound of a low whistle made me lift my head

Liam was jogging toward me.

“Well,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, “I’d say you and Macy are having a real productive morning.”

I pushed myself up onto my hands and glared at him, mud dripping from my chin.

“Glad you’re enjoying the show.”

“Not at all, but I’m glad I didn’t miss it,” he said, stepping into the paddock. “But I’m mostly impressed by your technique. Face-planting in the mud to win over the zebra? Bold move. Most would have let her go.”

“Careful,” I said, brushing clumps of mud off my sleeves. “You’re not immune to being dragged down here with me.”

He smirked, walking closer. “I might just risk it.”

Before I could argue, he reached down and grabbed my hands, pulling me to my feet with an ease that shouldn’t have been so attractive. But it was Liam—everything he did was ridiculously attractive.

“You look... earthy,” he said, his eyes sparkling as his gaze swept over me.

“Thanks,” I deadpanned, tugging my hands free from his and trying to salvage what little dignity I had left. “I was going for wilderness chic.”

He laughed, reaching up to swipe some mud off my cheek with his thumb.

“Nailed it.”

I shook my head, biting back a smile as I stepped away.

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