Page 52 of Resisting Isaac
It starts with a rumble.
Low and distant, like a warning whisper echoing through the valley.
Beside me in the arena, Eli is struggling to get the chestnut horse to hold a slow canter down the center line. The scene calls for a romantic dismount and a sweeping embrace, something overly dramatic and full ofcapital-F Feelings.
My least favorite.
Instead, the horse jerks his head, bucks slightly, and Eli ends up in the grass with an audible “oof.”
I suck in a sharp breath between my teeth. “That looked like it hurt.”
Isaac steps up beside me, arms crossed over his broad chest, eyebrows raised like hedefinitelytold someone this was a bad idea.
“I told him not to wear cologne. Horses need to get used to your natural scent to trust you.”
I try not to laugh but fail miserably. “That’s why they love you? Because you stink?”
He smirks then mutters under his breath, “Don’t recall hearing you complain.”
I lean closer to him. “That’s because the night we met, you had on enough cologne to repel a herd of water buffalo.”
I’m lying. He smelled amazing that night and he smells amazing now. His natural scent does something to my ovaries I try very hard not to notice.
Eli’s already on his feet, brushing off his jeans with a grimace, but his shirt’s muddy, and his dignity is nowhere to be found.
“Eli, you’re done for the day,” the director calls. “We’ll block it with a double, so we don’t lose the light.”
The crew starts murmuring about stand-ins. Kyle is the front-runner but he’s not much better with the horses.
And then Ivy’s voice cuts through the noise like a bell.
“Use Isaac.”
Heads turn.
Mine included.
“What?” I wish everyone wasn’t suddenly staring while Isaac is standing so close we’re nearly touching.
“He’s the right build. Better with horses. And,” she adds pointedly, glancing at the camera, “plenty of chemistry with these two.”
Isaac looks at me, then at the director, who’s sizing him up like a piece of meat.
“You game?” the director asks.
Isaac shrugs. “Long as she is.”
I swallow hard.
I don’t say yes.
I just walk toward the mark in the pasture.
And he follows. Mounts the horse and watches me for his cue.
The clouds burst just as we get set.
It’s not a gentle drizzle. It’s a summer rain—warm, steady, soaking through our clothes in seconds.
