‘Sorry, I was… um,’ I gesture to Chestnut, ‘talking.’
The confusion in his expression deepens. ‘Talking?’ he repeats.
I nod.
‘Huh.’ He tilts his head at me. ‘I’ve seen you here before.’
‘You have?’
‘Yes. Were you just… talking to this horse on those occasions also?’
I nod again, feeling nervous under his intense gaze.
‘Why?’ he asks.
God.This is awkward. Talking to a horse is one thing, but explaining to someonewhyyou’re talking to a horse is another. It’s going to be hard to come out of this sounding sane.
‘I like being around horses. I find her presence calming.’
He quirks a brow. ‘You find the presence ofthishorse calming?’ He points to Chestnut. ‘This horse right here?’
‘Yes.’ I frown. ‘Why? What’s wrong with her?’
‘Nothing. Nothing is wrong with Serafina. She’s beautiful. I had hopes she’d make a great polo pony, but she’s too wilful and stubborn. She’s difficult to ride, near impossible to control. She doesn’t listen to anyone.’
‘Oh.’ I look to her in surprise.
‘Butyoufind her… calming. Interesting.’
There’s a beat of silence as we both study the horse next to us.
‘Did you say her name was Serafina?’ I check.
‘Yes.’
‘That’s a lovely name,’ I muse aloud.
Mateo nods, watching me carefully. ‘And yours?’
‘Ash,’ I tell him, reaching out to pat Serafina’s neck.
‘I’m Mateo.’
‘I know who you are.’ I notice a flash of smugness cross his expression, so I feel the need to quash any ego-inflating. ‘Not from your polo career. Because you almost ran me off the road the other day. My brother told me who you were from the description of your car.’
He looks thrown and then recognition flickers across his handsome features. ‘Ah, yes. I remember now, you were walking near here. I’m sorry about that. I know these roads very well and tend to drive fast around them.’
‘You shouldn’t. I know you had company, but it’s dangerous to show off like that around such tight corners and narrow lanes.’
He doesn’t say anything, looking stunned at my directness before his expression softens into amusement. A classic reaction of someone too entitled to ever be put in their place.
I clear my throat.
‘I should go. Sorry about trespassing. In the future, I…’
I trail off mid-sentence, distracted as he begins to fiddle with the apparatus in his hand, unbuckling the straps and getting it ready.
‘What is that?’ I ask, pointing to it.
