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“Let’s take a walk. Hold her reins loosely.”
I take a deep breath then hold the reins like he demonstrates on Pioneer. With his patient instruction, he leads me through my first horse ride. Initially we just go in circles around the paddock. Then he teaches me how to make turns and finally he sets up cones and I try to lead Sugar through the obstacle course—with middling to fair levels of success. On our last pass, we manage to only knock over one out of seven cones.
And I can’t help the ridiculous grin from splitting my face by the time the sun is setting. Xavier tells me it’s time to get off but I beg for another half hour.
Which, yeah, I’m regretting by the time he helps me back off the mounting block and I realize just how sore my inner thighs are. Turns out I’m not used to being spread-eagled riding a large beast for a whole afternoon.
Haha, insert that’s-what-she-said joke here, I know. I’ll definitely be sore tomorrow. And even still, I kind of immediately want to say screw it, I’ll just take a hot bath and do some stretches and then let me back up there because that was the most awesome thing ever!
Xavier’s still holding my forearms from helping me down when I look up at him expectantly. “I can ride again tomorrow, right?”
“Looks like someone’s caught the fever,” he chuckles. “We’ll see. It depends on how sore you are.”
“I’ll stretch.” I bend over and start stretching my inner thigh muscles and hamstrings.
“Don’t forget your gluteus,” comes Xavier’s voice from behind me. Then his hands are on my ass, giving me a deep massage. “Horse riding can be punishing on the derrière.”
I jolt upright and twirl around, face heating. “Yes, I’ll take that into consideration.”
He seems amused at my red cheeks. And seriously, I ought to be used to his audacity by this point, but we’re here out in the open. Usually he grabs me when we’re in the barn or the house. I tense slightly, sure he’s about to throw me down right here in the open paddock with the horses looking on, but instead he just makes a clicking noise toward the horses and nods toward the stable. “Let’s groom these guys and get the rest of the crew into stable for an early night.”
I look him up and down but he’s already turned his back to me, leading Pioneer toward the stable.
An early night?
Oh dear, that can only mean he’s got something insane in store for me. What’s it going to be? Introducing anal? I keep waiting for that one. I’m sure it’s in his bag of tricks since he likes shoving every other object possible in my body. He’s teased a few times at my anus but never gone whole hog back there, thank God.
But since I’m on my period, maybe now he’ll think it’s the perfect time for experimentation?
I’m tempted to hurry through grooming but after the special experience Sugar gave me, I want to spend a long time with her, even running detangler through her tail and brushing it out until it’s glossy and shining. Then I run through the basic grooming regimen on all the other horses that I’m assigned to while Xavier takes the other half.
I can’t imagine how he did all of this alone before I came here. Each grooming session, even if you rush, takes around twenty minutes. First there’s the curry comb, then the hard and soft brushes, then brushing out the mane and tail (occasionally having to use detangler on the tail), and finally picking out their hooves. It’s insane the amount of work that goes into taking care of a single horse, much less ten of them. It’s endless and unrelenting. You don’t get a single day off.
And Xavier’s been doing it alone for who knows how long. Along with taking in mustangs like Samson and other problem horses along the way?
Every day I spend here, the more curious I get about his background. Who the hell is he? Then again, there are far more pressing questions of what the enigmatic man is going to do to me tonight.
As I finish hanging up Bob’s brushes by his stall—each horse gets their own individual grooming gear to keep from spreading infection, see what a knowledgeable horsewoman I’m becoming?—I look across the stable that’s dappled with long shadows in the early evening sunlight. Xavier’s bent over, cleaning out a bucket by the spigot near the wall, his powerful back muscles flexing as he flips it over and spills soapy water into the wide basin to drain. He’s pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and his thick forearms glisten with water droplets as he finishes washing the soap off the bucket and sets it upside down to dry. Then he glances over his shoulder and catches me watching him.
