Page 42 of Wingwoman
I knew then I was going to fall madly in love with Hope Marcoux-Evans.
I was going to cherish her.
Then I was going to let her ruin my wasted heart.
Twelve
HOPE
The next morningI woke up early.
Too early. I must still have been on New York time because the sun was just barely starting to lift above the horizon line. I was pretty achy all over now that the good pain meds had all worn off and all I was left with was over-the-counter painkillers.
I tiptoed downstairs, popping a Nespresso pod into the machine and sliding a mug beneath the stream of strong-smelling brew.
Outside I heard a whinny and Josh’s low, rumbling voice saying, “Whoa, whoa, Chestnut.”
Cupping my steaming mug in my hands, I crossed to the door, stepping out on the front porch.
I expected to be the only one awake this early. But not only was Josh awake, he was dressed in jeans, a green T-shirt that hugged his muscles, a leather cowboy hat, and outside already working with one of his horses.
Across the yard – if you could call the rolling, sprawling acreage he owned here a ‘yard’– he held the reins of a beautiful horse as it bucked around.
Cash was on the outside of the pen, barking as though he wanted to rush in and save his human.
“Easy, girl. Easy,” Josh said. His voice carried across the flat, quiet morning as though he was standing right beside me. “I know you’ve had a rough go. It’s going to be better from now on. I promise.”
When the horse–Chestnut–didn’t stop thrashing, I sort of expected Josh to take control. Dominate the horse… or ‘break it’ or whatever you see people do in movies to break a horse’s rebellious spirit.
Josh didn’t do any of those things.
All he did in response was not let go of the reins and the most unexpected thing of all… he sang.
Lyrics I’d never heard before and a hauntingly beautiful tune poured out of him.
At first, it did nothing to deter Chestnut. But after several seconds, she slowed her thrashing.
Then after a minute, she stopped bucking entirely. Stopped throwing her weight around and jumping like a bunny rabbit around the enclosure.
And Josh kept singing, bringing a piece of apple to her mouth.
With a stomp of her foot and a shake of her head, she took the apple as her glorious jet black mane billowed with the movement.
I walked slowly toward the pen. Like a sailor being drawn to the ocean by a siren, I was mesmerized by Josh’s crooning and his connection to the animal.
He didn’t break focus with Chestnut though. Not for a moment.
Not even when I stepped on a stick, cracking it in half.
“That’s right, girl,” Josh whispered in that hypnotic voice of his.
Slowly, the horse dipped her nose and let him stroke his palm down the front. Minutes later, he had her eating out of the palm of his hand… literally.
While Josh may not have noticed me yet, Cash was another story. The dog charged at me, running figure eights around and between my legs to greet me.
The commotion broke Josh’s concentration and he looked up from Chestnut, blinking in surprise to see me standing there, leaning against the fence post of the enclosure. “Hope? What are you doing up so early?”
It was a fair question. Hell, I was surprised I had walked up so close to the pen where moments ago this horse had been throwing the equine equivalent to a hissy fit. Especially after getting thrown from a horse just yesterday.
