Page 38 of Bourbon Breakaway

We’re interrupted by the last student running up the hallway toward us who doesn’t even say hello, just races between us and heads straight to the fourth pony. This one must be a regular.

Ashton adjusts his baseball cap, as though it wasn’t in the perfect spot already. “I’ll keep with Eve if you want. You take the others?”

“She’s thirteen, I guess she’d preferyouwatching her.”

“I’m an old man to a thirteen-year-old.”

It’s hard for me to see it. Since reuniting with Ashton, all I see is the boy from Moon Ridge Ranch. The one who was always nice to me when my brothers weren’t. The one who skipped the awkward teen stage and went straight to man. The one I wrote about in my diary. But we are grown up now with a shitload of nasty moments between past and present.

“Okay, you stick with Eve, but let her be independent. Strike the balance. Don’t be a babysitter or worry too much. She’s a cracking rider.”

“Got it.”

We get the lesson going, and two of the four have already done barrels. It’s not a speedy sort of class but one more about learning how to shift weight and center and recenter. One to learn about not just using the reins but leg and heel, prompting a horse into or out of a turn. Watching the kids, even going slowly around the barrels, trying to use their legs instead of their hands to show the horses where to go, has me missing all of this. It’s the thrill of getting it right. The thought of working toward something every time you practice—like how Eve has Special Olympics in mind or Gareth told me he wants to enter the Mini Masters in spring.

It’s heartwarming to think about these kids achieving what they set out to do and I’m part of it.

My three students are pretty independent, and I let my eyes wander over to Ashton with Eve. He’s bending down to show her which part of her leg is used to squeeze the horse’s side. She must squeeze the horse then and there because all of a sudden, her horse starts turning away from Ashton who patiently guides the horse back to facing the barrel. I like the way he is with her. She’shanging on to his every word. He smiles wider than usual when she gets it.

It adds to the feelings building inside. Ashton senses me watching, and his gaze snags on mine. He shoots me a look that tells me Eve is doing great. I nod.

The lesson was a good one, though when we’re done, Gareth has no end of wishing he was already God’s gift to rodeo.

“Miss Hunter, we didn’t even get out of a trot,” he complains.

“When you can get the horse around a barrel using only your legs, you can go for it.”

“I did.”

“I must have missed that, but tell you what, next week, I’ll let you try just once if your parents give me permission to let you.”

His face twists with uncertainty. I get the impression his mom is pretty strict. But it’s something else altogether.

“It’s just Mom.” He’s a tough nut but he can’t hide the sadness that tells me his dad is gone in one way or another.

I put my hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see if I can soften your mom to the idea.”

His smile is back.

Ashton and I say goodbye to the kids, and like last night, he stays to help me put things away.

“Your ankle will never get better if you keep putting weight on it.”

“Maybe I don’t care if it gets better.”

Is he flirting with me? “Lies. You can’t wait to get back on the ice.”

“I want to play,” he admits. “But I like being here, too. It’s a crazy kind of peacefulness that doesn’t exist anywhere else.”

His comment hits me. It’s the exact description for how I feel about my hometown. And being with Ashton. It’s crazy peace. “I know what you mean.”

When the barrels and horses are put away, we stand there together, and I rock on my heels.

“Thanks for your help. I probably could have taught on my own?—”

“I know…”

I can’t make out his thoughts in those deep-brown eyes, but he stares at me, and there’s some sort of stop-start motion going on between us.

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