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We finish our breakfast with a new kind of energy between us, anticipation for the ride ahead infusing the air. I clear the plates, thinking how natural it feels to have her here, like she belongs in this space that's been mine alone for so long.
"Let's get to it then," I say, pushing back from the table. "The horses won't saddle themselves."
She nods, excitement lighting up her features, and I think to myself that this is going to be a good day, a real good day.
We step out into the cool morning air, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. The sky's painted with streaks of pink and orange, a watercolor masterpiece that makes you appreciate being up at this ungodly hour.
"Never ridden before," Jules admits with a crack to her voice as we cross the yard toward the barn.
"Never?" I glance over at her, surprised. The way she carries herself, you'd think she'd been born in the saddle.
A soft chuckle escapes her lips, light and self-deprecating. "City girl, remember? Closest I came to a horse was a pony ride at a fair when I was about seven."
"Nothing to worry about," I reassure her, opening the wide barn doors. The scent of hay and leather greets us, familiar and comforting. "I'll look after you."
She steps inside, taking it all in—the saddles, bridles, and the soft nickering of horses in their stalls. Her eyes reflect a mix of wonder and trepidation, yet there's trust there too, trust that I won't let her fall.
"Promise?" There's a playful edge to her question, and I can't help but smile back.
"Cross my heart." And I mean it. For the first time in a long while, I want to be someone she can rely on, someone she doesn’t have to micromanage like her people at her work, someone who doesn't let her down. But, why do I feel like this towards her? I don’t even know her. Ugh.
"Okay then, cowboy," she says with a mock-serious nod. "Show me the ropes."
"Follow me." I lead her down the line of stalls, stopping in front of a chestnut mare with a gentle disposition. “This is Daisy. She’ll take good care of you out there today,” I introduce as I stroke the mare's neck and start preparing her for the ride.
Jules seems to watch my every move. She looks smart, and it probably won't take her long to get the hang of it. I can almost see the wheels turning in her head, connecting the dots, learning.
"Ready to give it a try?" I ask after a while, the horse saddled and ready.
"Let's do it," she says, determination setting her jaw. She might be out of her element, but she's not backing down. It’s sexy as hell that she wants to face this new challenge head-on.
"Here," I hold out my hand, steadying her as she puts a foot in the stirrup and swings her leg over the horse's back. Her movements are hesitant, unsure, but she manages to settle into the saddle.
"Look at you," I say, pride swelling in my chest. "Natural-born cowgirl."
"Feels weird," she admits, gripping the reins a touch too tightly.
"You'll get used to it," I assure her. "Just relax."
"Easy for you to say," she retorts, but there's laughter in her voice.
With a shake of my head and a last check on her saddle, I mount my own horse. We set off, side by side, the world waking up around us. This is a new beginning, and I'm curious where this trail will lead.
Daisy takes to Julia like she's one of us, gentle and patient. The mare seems to understand that the woman on her back is a little uncertain, but willing to learn.
"Keep your heels down, remember to breathe," I instruct as we walk Daisy through the barn doors.
"Breathing is good," Julia quips, finding her rhythm atop Daisy. "Got it."
"Let her know you're in charge, but be kind," I add, nudging my horse forward. We fall into step, the steady clop-clop of hooves a comforting sound in the quiet morning.
"Okay, Daisy. You and me, girl," Julia speaks softly to the horse, and I can't help but smile at the tenderness in her voice.
We ride in silence for a moment, soaking in the serenity. The vast expanse of my land stretches out before us, untouched and peaceful. It's moments like these that remind me why I left the hustle of city life behind.
"Look at that sunrise," she murmurs, awe coloring her tone.
"Never gets old," I reply, watching her instead of the sky.
