Page 29 of A Photo Finish
Golddigger85:How did he fix it?
I roll my lips together at his question because I don’t know the answer to that.
Pretty_in_Purple:I’m not sure he ever did.
Golddigger85:Reassuring, thanks.
Oh, jeez. I need to flip this script.
Pretty_in_Purple:Have you tried masturbating before bed? That always helps me.
The dots roll and stop.
Golddigger85:You offering to lend me a hand?
“Ha!” I bark out a laugh into the quiet room.
Pretty_in_Purple:A for effort. Never gonna happen.
This is our running joke. But the more I get to know him, and feel comfortable around him, the more I wonder . . . Would it really be so bad?
* * *
I don’t knowwhere Cole went, and I don’t care. The only thing I can focus on is the little bay filly eating her hay quietly outside my front door. She’s small, yes, but the way she’s built is all correct. Ideal, really. Billie has such a good eye for horses, no doubt she picked up on that too.
I hobble over to the front door and sit on the wooden bench in the front entry to slide my good leg into my rubber boot I’d kicked off as Cole carried me in through the front door.
Again. Except this time, I remember it clearly. The way his hands gripped me, strong but gentle. The lines of his abs as they rippled along my ribcage while he held me close. The sheer power of him as he carried me through the rain effortlessly.
Every point of contact like a tease.
I’d wanted him before I ever knew he looked or felt likethat.I’d wanted him even when I knew he’d never want me back. When he was just an avatar on my screen.Stupid.And that is something I’ve come to terms with. Something I’ve moved on from the day that I vowed to never look at our chat again. And I haven’t. I never logged in again. I deleted the app. Were there messages there waiting for me? Did he wonder where I went? Or did he just assume my silence was a dismissal? I’ll never know because I’ll never check.
Having a soul-consuming crush on a stranger on the internet was a phase. And I closed the door on that phase of my life. I pushed my boundaries. I tried something new. And it’s done.
I’m in a whole new chapter. Older, wiser, more independent.
I chuckle at myself as I head out the front door toward the paddock. Living with the man and falling asleep thinking about the hard lines of his body doesn’t exactly scream wiseorindependent.Great work, Violet.
“Hey, pretty girl,” I coo as I approach the fence.
Pipsqueak’s head snaps up, but she doesn’t startle. She just flicks her ears toward me with a joyful look on her dainty face, not the least bit perturbed by my arrival. In fact, when I get close enough, she forgets about her hay completely and comes to the gate, eager for attention. Not unusual for a horse that has probably been handled extensively for her entire life because of health complications.
As soon as I reach the gate, she drops her head over the top post and nuzzles into me like she’s demanding a hug. Her warm, damp breath flows over the light hairs on my forearms as she snuggles her face into my embrace.
A genuine laugh bubbles up out of me. It’s like she thinks she’s a puppy. Her eyes flutter open and closed happily as I stroke my hand over her broad forehead, right over the bright white star in the middle of it.
I love this horse already. I don’t even care if she runs well or not. This kind of contact is therapeutic, and once I can be sure the gesture won’t bring me to tears, I have every intention of thanking Billie from the bottom of my heart for knowing this is what I needed. Horse therapy.
She was always rambling on about DD being her therapist. Maybe Pipsqueak can be mine?
“What do you think about that, Pip?” I ask, rubbing my cheek against the firm round plate of hers. Basically, bunting her like a cat. But I don’t even care. Once a horse girl, always a horse girl.
The smell, the dust, the rasp of her ungroomed coat—it doesn’t bother me at all. It comforts me. My very own little Paper Bag Princess.
Excitement at the prospect of her makeover courses through me, and when I look down near the gate, my eyes catch the pink grooming box that Billie left out. It’s loaded with every brush and spray I could need. Hoof oil even. Did Billie pack up the trailer to get her here? Or walk over? I decide I don’t care about that either. “You ready to hit the spa, girl?”
Pipsqueak snorts and gives her unruly black mane a shake. As close to a nod as I’m going to get. I grab the handle of the box and let myself in through the gate. I don’t bother putting the halter on her. If she wants to walk away, she can. For now, we’re just getting to know each other. No pressure.
