Page 30 of Bloom

My cheeks flame as Hunter glances over his shoulder, interrupting my perusal. “Uh, no.”

Believe it or not, I didn’t come here with the intention of ogling Hunter. My real target is the pretty dappled mare tucked away in one of the back stalls. Aster showed up on the ranch around the same time I did, and while she never got the official title, I always thought of her as mine. Sweet old thing that she is, I figured she’d be the perfect beginner horse for Chiara to try out during her long-awaited visit—and by long, I mean she had to suffer through about forty-eight horseless hours.

“Hi, pretty girl,” I coo as I approach Aster. “Did you miss me?”

I take her whinny as an emphatic yes.

Giving her neck a firm, affectionate pat, I head towards the corner nook where the riding equipment is kept. Hoisting what I need to get Aster ready for Chiara’s imminent arrival over my shoulder, I struggle my way back to the stall.

God, I forgot how heavy saddles are. My shoulder aches under the weight, my arms straining with the effort of sliding itonto Aster's back. Out of my peripheral, I notice Hunter moving towards me, a hand outstretched like he’s going to help, but I wave him off.

I’m not entirely useless; I didn’t spend all those years hanging around this place without learning how to saddle a freaking horse. I might be a little out of practice, but I know I can get it done. And I do.

Eventually.

Stepping back with my hands on my hips, I survey my work proudly. I knew I still had it in me. Muscle memory, and all that. Raising my brows, I glance at Hunter with a bit of a'ha ha'look that dissolves into a frown when I find him not looking at me.

Or rather, not looking at my face.

I glance down at the outfit drawing his rapt attention; a pair of jeans—because as much as I wish I could, I can’t ride a horse in a sundress—a tank top, and Western-style boots that’ve been collecting dust in the back of my closet for the past few years. “What?”

Hunter’s gaze flicks up to meet mine before returning to the black, equine coat beneath his palms. “Nothing.”

Was he…

Nope. You’re delusional, Caroline.

“Have you named her yet?” I ask, gesturing to his new friend.

“I've got some ideas.”

Leading Aster by her halter, I approach the giants slowly, careful not to spook either of them. I hold my hand out palm-up, letting the mare sniff my hand, waiting until she’s deemed me safe before stroking her neck. “Like what?”

Hunter only hesitates for a handful of seconds, and I consider that monumental progress. “I like Gaia.”

So do I. “What else?”

“Hera.”

The corners of my mouth twitch; I'm sensing a theme. “Or?”

Another pause, and the definite burn of eyes watching me. “Athena.”

“Big fan of Greek mythology?”

Hunter says nothing. When I glance aside, I find him looking almost bashful. “I like Gaia,” I muse. “If my opinion means anything.”

Which it probably doesn't, but Gaia-Hera-Athena seems to agree because she snorts loudly and headbutts my shoulder.

I swear Hunter’s arm knocks against mine in what could definitely be considered a playful gesture. “Me too.”

Craning my neck to beam up at him, I watch his lips part as though he’s about to say something else, but Aster whinnying quietly interrupts him. He glances over his shoulder, whistling a greeting at the old mare. “You takin’ her for a ride?”

“I was gonna warm her up a little before Chiara gets here.”

“You know how?”

“I dated Jackson for four years. Of course I know how to ride a horse.”

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