Page 11 of Cowboy's Christmas Girlfriend

“Why don’t we say hi to Apple?” Will let her go and stepped back. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up. It’s your first day, right? You didn’t grow up here like we did.”

Sarah slung her arm around Suzanna’s shoulders. “You can’t go wrong feeding Apple. You hold out the snack and she’ll snarf it right up.”

“And keep your fingers well clear, or she’ll snarf those up too.” Will thrust a carrot into her hand.

“Okay, here goes nothing.” Suzanna took her carrot and strode up to Apple’s stall. She knew the horse from her pictures, a rangy old mare with a rough, speckled coat. She pricked up her ears at Suzanna’s approach, and stretched out her neck to nuzzle her cheek.

“Oh—oh, that tickles.”

“She likes you,” said Sarah. “She’s giving you a kiss.”

“That’s a big deal,” said Will. “Apple’s real picky when it comes to her friends.”

“Friends?” Suzanna beamed, delighted. “I brought you a carrot. You hungry?”

Apple took her treat delicately, then came nudging Suzanna’s pockets in search of more.

“That’s incredible,” said Will. “She’s been off her feed for weeks, but you’ve perked her right up.”

“Really?” Suzanna glanced back at him and saw his face had lit up. Warmth rose inside her. She’d got off to a rough start, but this was progress.

She left the stables walking on air, and her horsey euphoria carried her through the morning, through a series of increasingly backbreaking chores—clearing snow off the footpaths, patching up fences the wind had brought down. Lunch was quick and crowded, mugs of stew from Will’s thermos in the cab of his truck, thick-padded elbows bumping as they ate.

“I look like a blimp,” said Suzanna, frowning at her reflection in Will’s sideview mirror. “All these layers, if I tripped, I’d roll halfway home.”

“Better than freezing,” said Will. “Besides, you look cute. Like a little hedgehog curled up in a ball.”

“Right.” She wasn’t so sure that was a compliment.

After lunch, it was time to roll out the hay bales for the cows’ evening meal. Suzanna threw herself into the task, but her pitchfork bounced off the icy bales without making a dent. She flung her whole weight into it, only to gasp in pain as her palms rose in blisters.

“Ow...” She leaned on her pitchfork to inspect her reddened skin.

“You’ve got to know your limits,” said Will. “No shame in that. Go on, take a break. Me and the boys’ll finish up.”

Suzanna thought about protesting, but her palms were on fire. She dug out her phone instead, and held it out to Will.

“Shoot me with the hay, at least?”

Will glanced at the horizon, at the declining sun. “Can’t right now,” he said. “We’re losing our light.”

Suzanna huffed, annoyed. All day, he’d been dodging her, one excuse after another to shirk camera duty. She snapped a shot of her own red face, her lips cracked with cold. She looked like what she was, a fish out of water, gasping for air. The cattle stood watching her, chewing impassively. One of them farted, a long, rattling pthbbbbbt.

“Yeah, love you too,” she muttered, and pointed her phone at it. The cow showed her its bony rump, its thin scrap of tail flicking side to side.

“Okay, the hills, then.” She climbed onto the hay truck for a better view. The mountains were rosy with early sunset, their snowcapped peaks gleaming with the last light of day. Suzanna leaned out to catch the whole scene, from the orange-streaked sky to the indifferent cows. She lined up her shot, held her breath, and—

“Suzanna!”

She dropped her phone in the snow at Will’s panicked shout. She staggered and tripped, and next thing she knew, she was spinning through the air, sailing off the flatbed clutched to Will’s chest. They landed hard on the ground, staring up at the sky.

“Will?” she whispered.

He drew a deep, hitching breath, and she realized he was shaking. His grip was tight on her arms, so fierce she’d have bruises right through her thick coat.

“Will? You’re scaring me. What happened?” Why did he seem so upset?

“I told you not to stand like that,” he growled. “Not to squeeze between the bales.”

---