Page 30 of Wingwoman
Josh stood there waiting and handed me a helmet. With a sweeping gesture, he waved a hand to a trail where three horses were ready and waiting for us.
Daisy was already seated on top of one and looked regal.Regalin her fucking denim shorts. She looked like she belonged on a horse. Born to ride, with her spine straight and thin muscled legs tightly drawn in against the horse’s sides.
Daisy’s eyes fell to my new boots and an eyebrow lifted. “Lucchese? Didn’t peg you for a girl who would own a pair of those.”
I swallowed . “I… they were a gift.”
There. Not technically a lie. But even still, if she’d been wary before when Josh invited me along? She was downright green with envy now.
“Daisy is riding Marigold,” Josh said. “Marigold came to our rescue when she broke her leg and had to quit a career in racing. Her owners wanted to put her down. The cost of fixing her broken leg was more than the euthanasia, but we convinced them to “donate” her to us and in exchange they could receive the tax break that would save them more than they gave.” As Josh spoke, he stroked her nose tenderly and she whinnied, shaking her head, black hair swaying with the movement.
“She’s gorgeous,” Daisy said, grinning and leaned down to pet her neck.
“She really is,” I agreed. A part of my heart was touched at the fact that Josh had managed to save her life. To kill an otherwise healthy animal because they no longer served a purpose for you seemed more cruel than I wanted to think about.
“I’ll be riding Bolt,” he continued, pointing to a white horse with gray spots. Matt held onto his reins, feeding him carrots while the horses waited. “We rescued him from a family that had good intentions, but wasn’t prepared for the financial strain and the amount of work owning a horse means.”
Josh guided me over to where a smaller horse waited quietly, tied to a post. “And this… this is your horse today. Gypsy. She’s a special one. We’ve had her here at the ranch for years.” Josh placed a few apple slices in my palm and stepped aside as I approached her.
“Hey, Gypsy,” I said quietly.
“Tuck your thumb under so she doesn’t think it’s food,” Josh said. He tenderly reached out, wrapping his fingers around mine. Electricity skittered up my arm as Josh guided my thumb and showed me how to position my hand.
“There you go,” he whispered, his hot breath skimming over my ear.
Clearing my throat, I held out the apples to Gypsy. She took them gently, leaving a line of drool from her lips to my palm. I laughed and wiped my hand on the leggings, bringing my other palm gently down her nose as she chewed the apples.
“She’s a good girl,” Josh said, taking a step back from me. “She’s older, so she’ll be a nice easy ride for you.”
I lifted a brow. “You’d better be right.”
Eight
JOSH
Daisy’s horseand mine trotted easily next to each other, keeping pace. While behind us, Hope would barely make it a few feet before Gypsy would stop, drop her head, and graze some of the deliciously sweet, tempting grass.
I kept my eye on Hope, glancing over my shoulder to make sure we hadn’t completely lost her, but I couldn’t help but delight in her misery.
It was just so damn funny—and adorable. Each time we made eye contact, she would huff and shake her head at me, mimicking a horse in a way I’m sure she didn’t intend.
The surge of righteous anger was so potent, I could almostfeelit coming off of her like the heat emanating from an erupting volcano.
Beside me, Daisy cleared her throat, her gaze following mine behind us to Hope and Gypsy. “Soanyway,” she said, clucking her tongue, “as I was saying, my talent for Miss America was going to be singing, but there are so many of us who choose singing, you know? I think I need something a bit more original.”
Great. She was a singer too… just like me. Her motivations for accepting this proposal became a lot more clear. Even if she didn’t win Miss America, knowing me, dating me, and having me in her corner would easily help launch the next stage of her music career.
Especially since I knew pageant girls, even the ones who win at a state and national level, don’t win money. They only win scholarships.
I studied her as she rode the horse, knees squeezed, lifting and dropping with each trot. Her blond hair, which before had fallen around her face and shoulders in soft waves, was now impressively knotted at the nape of her neck below the helmet in a sleek twisted bun.
I nodded, trying to focus on Daisy instead of the cute way Hope kept bouncing uncontrollably with each step Gypsy took. Which admittedly wasn’t that many steps.
I told Hope I would give her prospects an honest chance. I promised it. And I didn’t break my promises, despite what half the female population of Austin told you.
But truthfully? Gut instinct told me Daisy wasn’t the one.
Sure, she was beautiful. But so was nearly every woman I’d been with in the last ten years. Beauty wasn’t something I had trouble finding.
