Page 29 of Tattered and Torn

I’m thinking, Fine. Then you date him.

I feel like I’m walking on eggshells here. We’re talking in circles, and I don’t feel like I can come right out and say what I want to. “I need to focus on my new job. That’s my priority. Not dating. So, do you want the pot roast or not?”

He nods. “Yeah. I want it. Thanks.” He nods toward a wooden bench lining the corridor. “You can set it down over there.”

“It really should go in a refrigerator if you’re not going to eat it now. Do you have access to a microwave?”

He nods. “There’s one here in the tack room.” He leans the shovel against the wall.

I step into the stall and hand him the sack. “Here you go.”

He takes it from me. “Thanks.”

I step back then, to leave. “Are you still driving me to Denver in the morning?”

“Of course I am. I said I would.”

“Thanks.”

When I turn to leave, he says, “Gabrielle, wait!”

“Yes?”

He opens his mouth to speak, hesitates, then closes it. I can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he debates what he wants to say. I wait patiently.

“I’m taking a group of women from L.A. out on a trail ride in a couple of days. Would you like to join us? I know you said you used to want a pony. I thought you might like to go with us.”

I’m so tempted to say yes, but the pragmatic side of me says no. “I’ve never even been on a horse before. I wouldn’t know the first thing.”

“I can teach you. Would you like a riding lesson? I’ve got time now. How about it? If you like, I’ll saddle Odin up for you. He’s my most dependable, most gentle horse. They’re all great, mind you, but Odin is special. I save him for kids and people who are anxious about riding. I’m not saying you’re anxious, of course. I just know you’ll have a good experience riding him. If you want to.”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard John say so much at one time. Warmth spreads through my chest. “I’d love to. But what about your lunch?”

“Can you give me thirty, forty minutes to eat and change?” He pulls on his T-shirt, wafting it. “I’m a hot, sweaty mess right now, not fit for company. I need a shower.”

“That’s fine.” I glance down at my dress and sandals. “I’ll run back to my apartment and change into jeans and sneakers. That’s probably more appropriate attire for riding.”

“Jeans, yes,” he says. “But not sneakers. Have you got boots? Something with a proper heel?”

I nod. “I think I have something that will work.” I hurry back to the lodge and race through the lobby and head for the stairs.

Kevin’s on the phone. He waves at me, covers the mouthpiece, and asks, “Where’s the fire?”

Smiling, I wave to him as I take the stairs up to my apartment. It’s just a riding lesson, but I’m reeling with excitement. Not so much about the prospect of riding a horse, but rather spending more time with John. It’s not a date, of course. I know that. I guess I could say he’s doing me a professional courtesy by teaching me how to ride. Maybe it’s his way of thanking me for bringing him lunch.

As I enter my apartment, I remind myself not to get too excited. It’s just a riding lesson. It’s not like he asked me out on a date.

I freshen up in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and hair. I probably should put my hair up in a ponytail for convenience’s sake, but I decide to leave it down. I change into a pair of blue jeans, a T-shirt, and put on a pair of brown leather ankle boots. They have a heel.

By the time I return to the barn, it’s been forty-five minutes. John is saddling a huge brown Quarter Horse with a black mane and tail. “The pot roast was fantastic, by the way,” he says when he spots me. He sounds like he’s in a much better mood than he was earlier. “The dessert, too. Thanks for bringing it.”

“My pleasure.”

John pats the horse’s thick neck. “This is Odin.”

The big horse’s halter is secured by two ropes that stretch across the aisle and are secured to metal rings embedded in the barn walls. When the horse spots me, he lifts his head and whinnies softly, blowing air out of his nostrils.

I watch as John throws a blanket over the horse’s back. “He likes you.”

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