Page 64 of Marrying the Gardener
My interests and passions have always been secondary to maintaining my household, keeping my father’s clients content, and beinga Nightingale. So I don’t talk about them. I don’t fill my room or my home with them.
I exist like a purse or a pair of shoes, something used and put back in a closet.
There is no way Kaleb should know that this is the best possible date idea he could have had.
But, in this moment, I feel remarkably seen. And I’m not even sure if it’s a coincidence or intentional. I don’t think even Crisis knows about my love of horses. The only time I’ve mentioned anything to her in passing about horses is when she met General, said he was huge, and I commented that I got him in lieu of a rich girl pony because dogs are less work.
Did Kaleb talk to Ava? Would Ava give my childhood secrets away?
Even though she’s not been nearly as aggressive toward him since the first day, there’s still an edge of warning in her eyes whenever they interact. Surely that means she wouldn’t be, on any level, conspiring with him…
Right?
“When mounting, we ask that you use the assist.” The guide drags a stool up to the palomino standing calmly before us. Stepping up, she swings her leg onto the pretty quarter horse’s back and pats his golden neck. “It’s just easier on you and on the horses if you’re not yanking on their saddle to get up. Now, once you’re mounted—” She rests her hands on the saddlehorn. “—our horses are known for their training and temperaments. They’ve been taught completely without reins, so they’ll follow the command of your body.” She clicks her tongue and squeezes her legs, ushering the pretty boy in a circle around the stool as she proceeds to explain go and stop commands.
Kaleb—irreverent—leans toward my ear and murmurs, “I want you to know how well I’m behaving myself right now.”
I glance at him. “What do you mean?”
“Every line, Crimson.” He sighs. “Every line is an innuendo begging to happen.”
Surely not.
However, even I’m not naive enough that I can’t hear it when I replay the instructions…so I elbow Kaleb in the side.
“Once you’re comfortable trotting in the bullpen, we’ll take you out on the riding trail.” The woman smiles, stopping the horse by the mount assist stool and swinging herself off. “Any questions?”
Kaleb raises his hand.
“Yes, sir?”
“Can we share a horse?”
My back straightens as Fabios on the covers of historical romances alight in my mind.
Blessedly, the woman draws her hands together and offers a pacifying look when she says, “That is not recommended.”
Ha. Excellent. I don’t want to share.
Kaleb’s thumb circles a dimple at the small of my back. “Pity.Without a chaperone, I fear Crimson may try to steal your horse. She adores them.”
“Don’t listen to him,” I say. “I promise I will not steal any horses.”
“Right.” Kaleb nods, placating. “She’s a Nightingale. She’ll buy all your horses instead.”
The woman brightens. “We do keep some breeding mares if you are interested in buying a horse. It will be a waiting list, but I can ask my boss to get the paperwork together for you before you leave?”
My horse girl dreams dangle before me…still out of reach. MaybeafterI have a thriving business I can invest in a horse. Assuming I’ll have any time left for one. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you, though.” I provide Kaleb with a withering look, tempted more with each passing moment to message Ava and see if she really conspired against me.
At home, Kaleb hasn’t been amonster, but he’s still been uncompromising in front of my staff. Proud. Domineering. A tapestry of underlying red flags.
Once or twice, he’s even cornered me in a hallway with an audience and…
Actually, no. I’d rather not think about what he’s done in those moments right at this exact second. Not while I feel as though my soul has been laid bare.
The swirl of romantic interest and flutters invading me lean my thoughts toward what he told me about demisexuals while I mount the palomino to practice in the bullpen.
As I try to bury my brain in the joy of running my fingers through the coarse mane in front of me, I realize why yesterday affected me so much. My father was no stranger to hangovers or being drunk. He was also most likely to hit me for something inconsequential while under the influence of alcohol.
