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He didn’t wait for my answer as we got out of the car. He paused, offering his hand before we headed into the barn. Then it occurred to me that he might be preparing to introduce me to the family.
“Flynn, one second, please.”
He stopped, still smiling.
“If we run into any family, I’d rather you didn’t mention how we met.”
Taken aback, he frowned. “They already know you’re the woman who saved my life.”
“Could we avoid going over it again with them? Hopefully they won’t bring it up.”
“We can try to avoid it, but that’s not a promise. They might make a big deal out of it. It’s a very big deal to them and to me. You saved my life, Bella. My life!”
He got down in my face with his eyes wide open. We were at the main entrance to the barn, a large opening two doors wide. “What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything. I’m just not that comfortable with all of this.” Swirling my finger around us, I didn’t know how else to explain myself. If it was just Flynn and me and the horses he was stopping by to see, that was fine. But now I’d set a boundary that he seemed unwilling to maintain. And I was stuck there. What had I been thinking? Agreeing to come here with him had been reckless.
Impatiently, he looked at his watch. I wanted to run back to the car and demand he take me home, but I pulled myself together and nodded. “Introduce me to your horse.”
“That a girl,” he said, relief clear in his voice.
Cringing at his comment that treated me like a child, I didn’t reply, following him into the barn. Up ahead stood an attractive woman in knee-high boots, jeans, and a leather jacket, feeding hay to a horse whose head was out of the stall opening. A beige and black plaid scarf from a well-known designer hung around her neck, and auburn hair tumbled over her shoulders.
She watched us approach, smiling. “Hey, Flynn.”
“Amina, meet Bella. Bella, my sister, Amina.”
She stuck out a perfectly manicured hand to shake. “Bella, we’ve read so much about you.”
All I could think of wasthe car-wash attendant. There wasn’t really a response to that, so I just smiled and shook her hand. She waited for me to say something.Oh, okay.
“Beautiful barn. Is this Critter?”
“This is the famous Critter,” Flynn said, opening the stall door to go inside with his horse. I stood out in the aisle, watching him pet the beautiful creature.
Amina watched, too, thankfully not trying to engage me. Brother and sister made small talk. Flynn led the horse out into the barnyard, grabbing a bucket of oats on the way. There were other horses in the paddock as well. I sat on a bench, watching the barn activity but not participating. After half an hour of this, Flynn must have remembered I was there and came over to where I sat.
“You must be getting cold,” he said, grinning. “I’d like to go inside and say hello to my folks, and then we can leave. What do you say?”
“Great!”
It didn’t make any difference to me what we did next. I was relieved Amina had kept her distance. Then I wondered if during those seconds between me telling him to avoid talking about the rescue and meeting Amina he’d sent warning texts to the family. I imagined them reading the words he might have written—Don’t bring up my accident.
He opened the gate and came out to meet me. “We can drive up to the house and then leave from there.”
“Okay, sounds good,” I said. Then, trying to make an effort, I waved to his sister. “Goodbye, Amina!”
She waved back but didn’t say anything. It was a relief, but as with all introverts, the feeling was short-lived, and then I wondered if she was offended, starting the anxiety all over again.
The house was amazing. I was more in awe of it than uncomfortable meeting the parents, who must have received the same text; not a word was mentioned about the accident or Flynn’s rescue. We didn’t stay long, although I noted a lavish buffet set up on the kitchen island and a hint of annoyance from his mother, a small woman who wore a conservative robe but her hair uncovered. Then I remembered they were Christians.
We left the house with minimal fanfare; I was relieved that Flynn took my hand. When we got in the car, I asked if he’d texted them.
“Was it that obvious?” he asked, starting the car.
“They seemed annoyed.”
“Can I ask something of you?”
