Page 15 of Snowed In With the Snow Queen
“I asked you if you were ready twice and you didn’t say anything.”
Does he know I’ve been ogling his butt?
“Are you afraid of heights? We can take it slow–” His brows furrows with concern.
“No, sorry, I’m fine. I’m ready.” His eyes flick over me for a long moment before he turns Grace away, clicking his tongue and pressing his legs into her sides. Slowly, we head out the way he came, across the back lot, and over the grass.
I’m not afraid of heights, but it is slightly unsettling to be so high up on a living creature. I run a hand along the back of her neck as we walk, wondering if my weight is hurting her, if the saddle bugs her, if her feet are cold. “You okay back there?” Randy asks.
“I’m fine, but are the horses okay to walk this far in the snow? I’m not hurting her, am I?”
He slows down until Grace and Ramona are walking side by side. “You’re definitely not hurting her. It isn’t far, and they get frustrated staying in the barn. They’re like kids stuck inside the house on a rainy day. Grace is already mad that she has toshare the barn with Ramona. Staying inside would just make her grumpier.”
“You’ve had Grace for a long time?”
“Eighteen years today.”
“But wasn’t that–” I find myself saying aloud before I can stop myself.
He looks over at me and nods. “Yep, we were hauling Grace and two other horses the day Robert died.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
He shakes his head. “It was a long time ago, I’m–”
“You don’t have to say that you’re over it.”
He gives me a half smile. “How did you know what I was going to say?”
“It’s what we always have to say when something horrible happens. No one ever wants to hear the truth.”
He nods and looks ahead.
Silence stretches out between us for a while. The only sound is that of the horses’ hooves through the snow.
Finally, he says, “So if the power hadn’t gone off, what were you going to do for Christmas?”
I shrug. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. If the storm hadn’t come in, I might have gone to visit some of the older people from church, but most of them live in assisted living way on the other side of the county.”
“So… you were going to be alone?” His tone makes me feel slightly defensive. It must be written all over my face because his expression changes. “I mean–”
“So were you.”
“Yeah, but I’m an old man. It’s not the same.”
That makes me laugh. “How does that even make sense? Besides, you can’t be much older than me.”
“I’ll be fifty in a few months. What about you?”
“Forty-seven and three quarters.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “For all that my back likes to remind me, I don’t feel fifty.”
“How old do you feel?”
