Page 30 of Don't Tell

“The only lady I see here is you, and…oh…” His eyes finally land on Suzanne. "And who is this?"

"Suzanne. Theo."

He winks at her. "What is a beautiful woman like you doing with an ugly man like him?"

I smack the back of his head.

"I’m asking the woman, Cade. Can you excuse us? Fetch us some lunch?"

Suzanne lets out a small laugh.Jesus Christ. Blood rushes to my head. I feel the sudden urge to punch Theo in the face. I haven’t been able to make her laugh yet, and barely five minutes in his presence, she does?

"I'm asking myself, mostly," Suzanne answers.

Theo crows. And now they’re both laughing at me. I turn to her, but she doesn’t even notice. She and Theo are having a time.

"I like her. I like her, Cade. Where did you find her? Tell me you stole her from someone."

Lila comes up behind him.

She runs the last 20 ft. She throws her arms around my neck and pushes her whole body into mine. Lila is the only one laughing now.

I pry one of her arms off my shoulder and step back.

She steps back into me. I step back again. She is still laughing. Nothing is funny anymore.

I have to physically remove her arm from around my neck a second time. Theo's eyes catch mine. He nods, very slightly, toward Suzanne.

Do something.I shake my head.

Lila lets go on her own. She brushes her blonde hair back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Theo and I were just talking about you, actually.” Then her eyes dart to my right, where Suzanne is standing. She tilts her head. "Don't I know you?"

Suzanne does not answer. Neither do I. I want to see where Lila is going with this.

Lila claps her hands. "I know! From the hotel."

I speak before Suzanne does. "She’s with me." Lila's smile falters for a second, then she quickly recovers. I take Suzanne’s hand. “Come on.” Then I turn to Theo. “We’re heading off to the stable.”

“I’ll catch up.”

I nod and lead Suzanne away from Lila. I want Suzanne to see the place — the horses, the pines, the way the property opens up once you get past the stable.

The mare I pick for her is a bay named Pilgrim, steady as furniture, a horse that has not done anything alarming in recent memory. I bring her to the mounting block and show Suzanne where to put her hands, where her weight should go, and what her hips need to do before her leg swings over.

She listens. She does not ask questions. She tries.

The first time, she comes off-balance at the top and has to step back down. She does not say anything. She sets her jaw and tries again.

The second time, her foot slips from the stirrup on the way over, and she grabs the saddle horn and saves herself, but lands crooked. For a half-second, she is sitting sideways on a horse, looking at nothing with great concentration.

I reach up and hold Pilgrim steady.

She corrects herself, squares her hips, and adjusts her grip. She takes a breath, gets down, and tries again.

The third time, she gets it — weight forward, leg long and clean over, lands quietly in the saddle like she knew where it was all along. Pilgrim doesn't move an inch.

She looks straight between the horse's ears, chin level, and adjusts her reins. I get up behind her for the first ride out. I tell myself this is for safety, but not entirely. The saddle does not have much room. My chest comes against her back, and my arm goes past her ribs to hold the outside rein, and she goes very still.

Pilgrim shifts her weight once and settles. The leather creaks. I can feel Suzanne breathing.