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But then he looked away as if he hadn’t noticed anything in the first place.
We went into the garage, got into his blacked-out Range Rover, and drove through the wet streets of Paris. The sky was overcast, and the asphalt was dark from the nighttime rain. Puddles splashed under the tires as we drove. The tint on the windows was dark, blocking out our faces completely from anybody who passed.
It was illegal—but not for Benton.
From the passenger seat, I glanced at him from time to time, seeing him drive with one hand on the wheel, the other bent, with the elbow on the center console so he could reach all the gadgets and the touch screen. The system played a kid’s sing-along, and it was ironic because this man and this car looked like they would play rock music…or something along those lines.
It was the first time I’d been out of the house with him, and it was a lot more relaxing than when I went out alone. There was no need to glance over my shoulder, to check the walkway before I took it, to search for the smile of a jack-o’-lantern.
With him, I felt invincible.
We left Paris and headed into the countryside. The Eiffel Tower and cafés turned into green pastures and ponds with lily pads. High gates blocked beautiful homes that I would only ever see on a real estate site.
Benton slowed down and turned onto a road with an iron gate and a high stone wall that wrapped around the property. He came to a stop, entered a code into the keypad, and then the gates opened.
“Yay!” Claire said from the back. “We’re here.”
Benton drove up the road, approaching a two-story home that looked straight out of Parisian aristocracy from the 1800s. Instead of pulling up to the front of the house, he took another road, heading toward a stable in the rear.
Green pastures showed a couple horses—and some ponies.
Claire pressed up against the window. “Constance, look.”
“Wow,” I said. “They’re beautiful.”
“That’s Strawberry.”
“She’s very cute.”
Benton pulled over, and we entered the stables, where some horses stood, eating their hay or staring at us as we walked inside.
There was a rancher there, an older man in jeans and boots, the person who oversaw the horses when Benton wasn’t around. They exchanged a few pleasantries before he scurried away, like he didn’t want to be around Benton longer than he had to.
Didn’t blame him. Benton was a bit intimidating.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Claire took my hand, and one by one, she introduced me to the horses by name in the stables before she moved out to the fence where the rest were in fields. “We can’t ride the ponies, but we can pet them.” She held out the carrots the way her father taught her, and then Strawberry walked over to munch down. When the carrots were gone, Strawberry licked her fingertips, making Claire giggle. “I’ll get more!” She ran back into the stables to find more fresh carrots.
Benton stood at the fence, his sleeved arms resting on the wood, looking out onto the field and not at the pony that waited for Claire to return. His cold eyes examined the surroundings with indifference, slightly narrowed in a brooding stare, and his short blond hair moved slightly in the winter breeze.
It was hard not to stare.
Then he abruptly pulled his arms off the wood and walked away, moving farther down the fence to another pen.
My head turned the other way to watch him go.
“Got some more.” Claire returned and handed me one. “Keep your hand flat like this.”
I didn’t want my hands to get coated in slobber, but I didn’t want to sabotage her excitement, so I played along. Strawberry devoured my long carrots instantly then went to Claire next.
A loud whistle pierced the sky.
I turned instinctively back to Benton.
An enormous black Clydesdale emerged from the distance, trotting toward Benton before slowing to a walk when he was closer. With a beautiful black mane, a shiny black tail, and a girth that rivaled a ship, the powerful horse walked to the man who mirrored him in many ways.
“That’s Budweiser.”
The horse came to Benton for a scratch.
Benton rubbed down his neck and across his flank over the fence.
I watched him, seeing him show kindness in a way I didn’t expect.
“I’m going to get some apples this time.” Claire jogged back into the stables to search through the storage.
As far as I could tell, no one else was on the property and the house was vacant. I left the pony near the fence and walked to Benton, watching him handle the enormous horse like it was an average steed. “Nice to meet you, Budweiser.”
Benton withdrew his petting hand and rested his arms on the fence once again, admiring his horse up close.
