Page 69 of Holly and Nick Hate Christmas
That was the third time Axel had shouted something like that during the trail ride, which seemed to have been going on for an eternity already. Nick dared to lift his eyes over Peanut Butter’s flicking golden ears and watched as Axel bobbed along in the saddle of a spirited paint horse. Like he’d been born there, instead of on a surfboard.
Meanwhile, Nick clutched the saddle horn in his free hand and prayed Thomas wouldn’t notice. How was Nick going to appear competent and farm-ready if he couldn’t handle livestock?
Overhead, gray winter clouds had parted to reveal a startling blue sky. The air was brisk, but not too cold—a perfect day to be outdoors. That is, if one enjoyed such activities as horseback riding and didn’t threaten to go into cardiac arrest with every flick of their horse’s tail.
Up ahead, Olivia and Chloe fanned across the barren trail with Axel, who alternated between singing Garth Brooks songs and adjusting his borrowed gardening hat. Kat had begged offthe ride, claiming she had a headache and would love the house to herself to rest for a few hours. Ryan and Lydia rode in front of Axel and the girls, behind Thomas and Grace and the trail guide, who wore more Carhartt than a Bass Pro advertisement. Holly was somewhere behind Nick with Janie and Mason—he couldn’t risk turning around to check, though he heard Mason’s confident young voice as he chatted with his aunt.
Was every man on this trail more confident than Nick?
The lingering aroma of leather and hay, scents from some of his favorite memories with Red, washed over Nick as Peanut Butter continued to amble along, following the leader. It wasn’t all bad. He just needed to focus. Remember why he was here.
Nick drew a breath that was slightly less tight than the one before, despite his racing heart. He scratched the neck of the palomino gelding, who the trail guide had assured him was docile and could walk the trail in his sleep. Comforting, but not enough to stop Nick from wishing he could’ve ridden a pony like Janie’s. “It’s going to be fine, boy.” All of it.
Holly announcing their “relationship” to her family. Her parents inevitably finding out. The look Ryan had shot him while dripping in coffee. Managing another secret. It was all going to be okay.
Right?
“Are you talking to yourself or the horse?” Holly pulled up beside him on a black mare, whose dark tail swished against Peanut Butter’s hindquarters. The gelding lazily lifted his head to check them both out.
If Nick’s hands hadn’t been sweating all over the reins, he might have taken a moment to appreciate the view Holly offered—her red curls spilling onto the shoulders of her quilted jacket that she wore over a pale sweater and leggings.
But he was busy, as it were.
“Both, apparently.” The words slipped between Nick’s grittedteeth and he took another deep breath. Horses could sense fear—one of the first things Red taught him. And while Peanut Butter seemed more interested in the patches of clover still growing wild on the edges of the trail than in Nick’s effort to hide his nerves, he wasn’t going to assume it impossible for the horse’s wild ancestral instincts to kick in.
“You look pale.” Holly tucked her hair behind one ear—how did shenothave to hold the saddle horn?—and twisted sideways a little to better face him.
Yes, please. Get a good view of his failures and shortcomings. Perfect. “I’m fine.” Peanut Butter stumbled, too lazy to lift his hooves all the way, and Nick’s white-knuckled grip tightened around the horn.
“Honestly, pale seems healthier than that blood red you were when you first mounted.” Holly grinned. “My hair would have been camouflage on you.”
“Very funny. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Nick gripped Peanut Butter’s sides with both legs, trying to hold on more securely but not so tightly that the horse mistook the squeezing for a cue to go faster.
“We’re just trail riding,dear.Not barrel racing.” Holly grinned. “Besides, I told you that you didn’t have to ride.”
Beneath him, Peanut Butter blew a breath through his velvety muzzle. “I was trying to overcome a fear,honey.”
“Noble, but unnecessary.” Holly gestured behind them, back down the trail to where they’d started, what—six hours ago?
Nick checked his watch. Nope. Only ten minutes.
Holly looked mildly disappointed. “We could have hit up that hot chocolate stand inside.”
Good grief. “Is that all this town drinks in the month of December? How do you all not have cavities?”
She looked over with a smirk. “That’s what you’re upset about? Gee, I assumed it’d be the beast underneath you.”
“You’re right. I don’t actually care about Point Bluff’s dental habits.” Nick let out a breath. “Truth is, I love horses. I was part of a juvenile”—he cleared his throat, swallowing the wordprogram—“camp when I was a teenager, and I got to learn how to work with them. It was fun, mostly.”
“What happened?” Holly leaned forward to pat her mare’s neck. “Did you fall?”
“One of the horses got spooked by a snake and reared on me.”
Holly flinched. “Yikes.”
“I fell, but not until after the horse galloped for a bit.” Ironically, Nick had managed to hang on the entire time and had only fallen once the horse stopped, due to Nick’s shaky legs attempting to dismount. But that detail wasn’t necessary. “After that, I figured I did better with horses while I was on the ground.” They were pretty soothing—when you were standing next to them, anyway, and not sitting on top.
“We’ve been riding out here my whole life, don’t worry. And there are definitely no snakes this time of year.” Holly tossed her hair, the vanilla scent wafting toward him on the breeze. How did she smell so good all the time?
