Page 84 of Beat around the Bush
My hand grabbed her waist, spinning her to face me. “Want me to kill them?”
She huffed. “You can’t just kill people, Lennon.”
I shrugged. “I can if they upset you.”
She waved a hand in the air. “It was a long time ago, in high school.”
“That’s not a long time ago for you,” I pointed out. About six years ago for her, if I was doing my math right.
“Are you going to get me on this horse or are we going to keep pointing shit out about me?”
Sassy. I liked it.
In one swift motion, I lifted her by her waist into the air, plopping her down in the saddle.
Her jaw dropped. “Lennon Bronson!”
I grabbed the reins from Butterscotch’s neck, handing them to her. “I was just helping you,” I said innocently.
She took the reins from me and I set one hand on her outer thigh, the other on the horse’s shoulder. “How am I going to learn to do it by myself if you manhandle me like that?” she asked.
I raised a brow. “Don’t like when I manhandle you?”
She frowned. “Well, yes, but–”
“Then I’ll keep doing it.”
Her cheeks flushed and my hand slid a bit higher. She was barely a head taller than me on Butterscotch, placing me eye level with her shoulder. “Ready to ride, Oak?”
But fuck, I wished she was riding me instead.
She held her chin high. “Ready.”
Sliding my hand down her leg, I placed one tiny snow boot into the stirrup, thankful they weren’t those massive, bulky snow boots people liked to wear. They were small and cute, just like her. She looked down at her other leg, fixing her foot in herself.
“That length okay for you?” I asked.
She pursed her lips, and I knew she wasn’t thinking about the stirrup. Neither was I.
“Perfect,” she said with a small nod, looking down at me with a slight glaze over her eyes that screamed need.
“Let’s get to it, then.”
32
Oakley
We rode around the arena for about an hour while we talked about my family and his childhood on the ranch. Lennon stayed by my side the entire time on Winston, listening to every word I said. His horse was a mammoth in comparison to Butterscotch, but it wasn’t anything new having to look up at Lennon.
My insecurity had just slipped out when Lennon was talking about the horse being short. I’d always hated how short I was, but ever since I met Lennon, I didn’t mind it as much. The way my cheek pressed against his chest or how his chin rested on top of my head when we hugged.
Then finding out he liked our height difference? It was like all insecurities about it went out the window. And I know, they say you shouldn’t rely on a guy to make you feel good orhappy, but if being with Lennon made me feel more confident in myself, I didn’t see why it was such a problem. Isn’t that what relationships should be? Lifting the other up?
Lennon lifted me up, mentallyandphysically. Into the saddle and through the clouds. Is that where the sayingon cloud ninecame from? Because that’s where I was when I was around Lennon.
He had helped me take Butterscotch’s tack off, putting the saddle away for me along with his own. I ran my hand along Winston’s neck, admiring his coat. Lennon had said he was a bay dun, but regardless of what he was, he was beautiful with his two-toned mane and stripe down his back.
“I’ll just put the horses back and we can continue on our date,” Lennon said, coming out of the tack room.
