Page 14 of Open Road (Tattooed Hearts Duet 3)

Laughing, we walked into the hotel, taking the elevator up to our floor. When we stepped into our room a few minutes later, I was amazed at its size. I hadn’t stayed in many hotel rooms, but this seemed bigger than most.

“It’s a suite,” Slade said, answering the question on my face. “But the best part…” he trailed off, walking over to the window and opening the curtains, “is the view.”

Gasping, I took in the lights that were now lit up on the Arch in full view from our room. “It’s magnificent.”

When the guys joined me and I took in our reflection against the Arch, and I knew that this trip, this journey, would do as Babs said. It would change our foundation into something extraordinary. This push she’d given me was a gift I never would’ve dreamed of having. Making a vow to myself, I promised to take every opportunity presented to us on this voyage and follow her instructions of doing something scary, something new, and something fun, no matter how terrifying it might be.

It was time for this baby bird to spread her wings.

ChapterNine

SIMON

In front of the group,the brewmaster waxed poetically about how beer was made, but all I could think about was the next part. When Lenn had asked us what we wanted to do, we suggested something fun that intrigued us in the city, and I knew I wanted to come meet the horses. It worked out that it also lined-up with Slade’s curiosity about brewing beer.

I just hadn’t planned on having to do an hour-and-a-half tour of the place before I got to see the Clydesdales. Lennox shuffled next to me, looking at her phone just as much as me. We were both ducking out of this one to go to ours while the brothers carried on.

“Is it time?” she whispered, looking up at me with hope in her eyes.

Slade huffed next to me but nodded, only taking his eyes off the man up front to give me a look. I read everything it said, though.

Watch her. Don’t let her out of your sight. Her safety is in your hands.

Okay, so maybe that was a little long-winded for Slade, but it was about the gist of it. Lennox didn’t know that since her stalker, Slade had become even more of a bear in regards to her safety. I couldn’t blame him, though. We’d almost lost her. That wasn’t a world I wanted to live in.

Taking her hand, I nodded to the twins and headed back to the entrance with Lennox. Our steps were quick as we eagerly made our way to the next tour.

“I’m so excited,” she said, practically skipping in her Chucks as she danced along next to me.

Squeezing her hand, I directed us to the front of the gathered crowd for this tour. I had to say, I was impressed with Anheuser-Busch’s system. They had four different tours of the brew facility and stables, depending on what you wanted to see and learn. If I liked beer, I might’ve been more inclined to learn how it was made, but since it was just something I barely tolerated, it was the Clydesdales that drew me in.

“Welcome, everyone! We’re about to set off on our tour of the stables and learn all about these beautiful creatures. First up, a few safety rules. Please do not travel off on your own. Stay with the group. And unless we say it’s okay, do not touch any of the horses. While they are trained, no one wants to spook a horse. It isn’t pretty what happens as a result. So, let’s keep it safe and fun.”

The small crowd hollered out their agreement, and we began to follow the tour guide toward the stables. It was still cool this early in the morning, and I rubbed my arms as we set off. Lennox had on a jean jacket over her dress, making her the smart one of the two of us.

The closer we got, the more we could smell and hear the horses. The shuffling of their hoofs on the ground and the smell of hay and manure greeted us as it filled the air.

“The Budweiser Clydesdales refers to teams of Clydesdale horses used to pull restored turn-of-the-century beer wagons for Budweiser. They first appeared in 1933, given as a gift to the brewery's CEO from his son to celebrate the repeal of prohibition,” the tour guide started, motioning toward a stall where a beautiful brown horse was chewing hay.

Lennox gasped next to me, and I squeezed her hand, feeling the magic of the moment myself as we got to be part of these beautiful creatures' existence. Looking around, I couldn’t help but feel goosebumps on my skin at the historic brick and stained-glass stable around me. It was truly magical.

“… the stables were built in 1885 and house ten horses. Eight horses are driven at any time, but ten are on each team to provide alternates for the hitch when needed….”

“Si, look!” Lennox whispered-shouted, pointing to a horse at the front who was shaking his mane like he was in a hair commercial. She covered her mouth, laughing at the sight.

“To qualify for one of the hitches, a Budweiser Clydesdale must be a gelding with an even temperament and strong, draft horse appearance. They must be at least four years old, stand at least 18 hands when fully mature, and weigh between 1,800 and 2,300 pounds. In addition, each horse must be bay in color—have a reddish-brown coat with a black mane and tail, and have four white stocking feet and a blaze of white on the face.”

“Wow, I never knew there was such a strict requirement. What about the horses that don’t meet that? Are their dreams just ruined?” Lennox asked, looking up at me with her big eyes.

Pulling her into my arms, I moved over to the stall the horse attendant motioned us toward. “I’m sure there are other jobs for them, Lenn.”

She sighed, letting it go for now. Together, we learned how to brush and groom one of the gentle giants over the next thirty minutes as they talked us through their routine, training regiment, and lifestyle.

“I think this horse has it better than me,” Lennox said, laughing.

“Alright, folks. That’s all for today. Please line up here if you want to take a selfie with one of our horses.”

Lennox grabbed my hand and moved us toward where the guide pointed, making us the first in line. Together, we cheesed next to the horse as he sniffed and tolerated our presence.

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