Page 102 of The VIP Package

“I made breakfast that morning.” It was French toast, rather than benedict, but the sentiment was there. “Don’t forget Put a Pillow on Your Fridge Day.”

“I still can’t believe that’s a real thing.” She always Googles to make sure.

“Better mark your calendar for next year.”

“Already did. Along with International Goof Off Day, which apparently calls for a trip to Paris?”

“Oui.” I’ve booked it for March, which is when the blessed occasion occurs. “It seemed imperative to fulfill our bucket list wish of sex in the Eiffel Tower.”

“A thing I didn’t know was possible until I started banging a billionaire.”

“Money has its perks.” We’re almost to the back of the house, which means she’s about to see my latest surprise. Kora helped coordinate the delivery while Camille and I lunched at the resort.

We’re approaching the pasture when a low whinny confirms we’re all set. I glance at Camille, not sure she heard it.

“Wait.” Her forehead crinkles as she looks at me. “Was that a horse?”

“Not precisely.” Rounding the corner, we come to the edge of the paddock.

A paddock where one russet mare looks up with a whinny, then trots to the edge of the fence. “Apony.”

“A pony?” Camille gasps and runs to the edge of the fence. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Sybil said it would be a nice surprise.” I watch as she holds out her hand and the sprightly brown mare ambles over. “They left you a basket of apple slices by the gate.”

“Oh my God, Ash.” Beaming with glee, she bends and picks up a slice. Slowly, gently, she holds out the fruit on a flattened palm.

The animal flutters her mouth over the treat, then plucks it from Camille’s hand and munches it down. Pawing the ground, she gives a soft nicker of approval.

“What a sweetheart.” Camille picks up another bite of apple. “Her lips are so soft.”

“She came from a rescue group that rehabilitates farm animals from difficult circumstances.” I’ve got a complete dossier on this little mare, which I’ve tucked on Camille’s desk to read later. “We’ve been corresponding for a month to find just the right pony.”

“I love her.” Camille strokes the crooked white starburst on the mare’s nose. “She’s so sweet.”

Making this woman happy will never stop bringing me pleasure. Afternoon sunlight gleams in her hair as she scratches the pony’s curved ears. Her laugh feels like fizzy soda in my chest cavity.

God, I love her.

“One more thing.” I clear my throat. “It occurred to me your pony might get lonely, so?—”

“Holy shit.” She squeals so loudly the mare skitters back. Pointing at the far end of the paddock, Camille bounces on her heels. “There’s another one!”

The shaggy white stallion stands hunched in a corner. He paws at the earth as he glances our way, in no hurry to greet us.

“Is he okay?” She frowns. “He’s not hurt, is he?”

“Just a little standoffish.” I can relate. “The rescue group said he takes time to warm up.”

“Sounds like someone I know.” She smiles and kisses my cheek. “I love them. Thank you.”

“I’ve hired a stable hand to tend them.” I don’t want Camille fretting that she’s forced to learn horse care. “And based on your weight, I’m told you can ride either pony once they’ve gotten used to you. If you’re interested, of course.”

“I’ve never ridden a pony.” She sounds thrilled by the prospect.

At the murmur of our voices, the stallion creeps closer. Camille bends down and picks up another apple slice. She feeds it to the mare while keeping one eye on the reluctant stallion.

“Good girl,” she coos. “You like that? There’s more we can share with your friend.”

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