Page 107 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

“I love you, doll.” I kiss her back tenderly.

It’s not long before she falls asleep. I lay awake for a long while, replaying her wishes for her dream life and know I can accomplish most of them.

We’ve got the marriage and the found family. Our jobs are in the works—it’s a matter of time before we’ve both got fulfilling careers at the ranch. I’m building her the house of her dreams, to replace the one I couldn’t buy her. The money I worked to the bone for is going to good use to make her dreams come true. Some of that cash now earmarked for buying her the horse she’s fallen in love with.

I find sleep in the blackest hours of the night, at peace knowing I’m making my wife’s dreams come true.

45

I’m so close to graduating, I can taste it, but it tastes like ash because I’m so stressed I’m imploding. If it weren’t for daily orgasms from my husband, I might’ve jumped into the Whitetail River and let it carry me away.

Instead of living in newlywedded bliss, I’m a basket case. Of course, Connor’s the best husband in the world because he’s unfailingly patient and does everything possible to help me—even while finishing his own program and taking on additional responsibilities at the ranch.

I suppose it’s timely since my lesson today with Tanya and Biscuit is about emotional regulation. I’ve studied until my eyes crossed, but I’m anxious to work on it in person.

Crunching gravel alerts me that Tanya’s arrived with my best buddy Biscuit in tow. I help back her in and get Biscuit unloaded. She gets him comfortable as we chat about our last lesson, and what to expect today.

“Now remember the belly breathing we’ve been practicing. You’ve been practicing, right?” Tanya asks.

“Yes, I have. I’m an expert at this point.” I chuckle.

I practice every chance I get. Focusing inward is a challenge, especially when the pressures of the world are so loud.

“Alright, let’s move on to desensitization.”

Oh, dear god. I wasn’t prepared for this. I thought we’d spend the session practicing mirroring. Biscuit snorts, backing up slightly, flicking his ears back and forth—picking up on my anxiety. It’s fascinating how in-tuned he is to the slightest emotional shifts.

“No use in fretting, darlin’.” Tanya pulls out a crisp windbreaker and pops it open.

I jolt at the sudden sound, and Biscuit retreats a step, tugging on the lead held tightly in my hand. Immediately guilty for upsetting him with my reaction, I take some belly breaths and do my best to center myself.

“Now, I’m gonna walk around like I’m checking the fence. You’re gonna do your best not to react. It’s natural for you to anticipate his anxiety, which ratches up your anxiety—and that’s what’ll make him nervous—your energy, not me moving around in the jacket.”

The windbreaker swishes and crinkles as Tanya takes exaggerated steps along the fence line. My stomach’s flipping because I’m afraid Biscuit will spook, and on schedule, his head rises and nostrils flare. I’m gripping his lead so tight, my knuckles are white.

I relax my hold and loosen my stance, doing my best to act like there’s nothing special going on. Biscuit relaxes a fraction, his energy soothing my own, harmoniously flowing between our bodies.

Tanya brushes her hands down the windbreaker loudly and my eyes flick to her, but my body and respiration stays calm. Biscuit flicks his ear but otherwise remains still.

By the end of the session, Tanya’s running around like a lunatic, flapping her arms, rustling the windbreaker like crazy. So long as I stay calm and don’t react, Biscuit doesn’t give two shits what’s going on.

A joyous laugh bubbles up my throat, and I’m thrilled Biscuit remains calm, only a flick of an ear, because he senses my happiness.

“Great job today, darlin’. Looking inward and becoming more attuned to your own emotional shifts will do you wonders in this field. Practice that on top of your other skills until our next session. You’re getting real close to graduating. Keep up the good work,” Tanya praises.

As her trailer disappears over the hill, warm arms wrap around me, and I melt into Connor’s hold.

“Wife.” His deep rumble floods my skin with goosebumps.

“Husband,” I reply, tilting my head for an upside-down kiss.

I turn and drink him in. He’s positively edible today decked out for a day in the stables.

Those goddamn Wranglers hug his thighs and ass so perfectly I’m jealous the denim’s touching him so intimately. His cowboy boots are caked with dried mud—I’ll have to give them a clean tonight so he can relax. Leather gloves hang from his back pocket, and soft flannel is pushed up to his elbows beneath a new quilted vest.

A worn Broncos cap covers his golden hair from the sunlight and I’m about ready to drag him into a stall and get on my knees for him.

“How was your session? Looked like Tanya was trying to attract a partner to mate with.” He chuckles. I love his laugh.