Page 33 of Up in Smoke

I laugh and resist the urge to reach over and pat her neck. She’s standing close to the horse that I’m perched on, but I know for sure I’d slip right out of this saddle and straight to the ground if I stretch my arm out and lean over.

“She has a lot of personality,” I say with a smile. The horse beneath me shifts his weight, making my hips slide back andforth in the saddle that doesn’t quite fit me. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

The reins tighten in my hands, and I can’t help but hold my breath once again. Tripp leans over and covers my clenched fists with his palm for three seconds.

“Yes. Bob is a gentle horse. You’ll be fine, and you don’t need a death grip.”

I slowly loosen my fingers around the leather. Bob may not be crazy, as far as I’ve seen, but I’ve never done this before. When Tripp’s index finger draws my attention, I turn my body to look down to where he’s pointing.

“See that? His back leg is bent.”

I study the way Bob’s leg is cocked enough to make his hip lean to one side. On the ground, his hoof is resting lightly forward on its toe. It’s almost lazy—not the position you’d see if he were tense or ready to bolt. His tail hangs easy and unbothered.

“That means he’s relaxed. So, you can be relaxed, too.”

I straighten my posture again. “Okay. Now, where are we headed?”

Tripp barely lifts his reins and softly drags his heel back an inch. Regal plants her back feet and effortlessly pivots to change directions. They start at a slow walk to the west.

“Just lightly move the reins to the side,” Tripp calls over his shoulder. “Bob will do the rest.”

I follow his instructions and beam as we somehow end up right behind them in a few seconds. It’s wild, feeling the powerful breaths beneath me each time my horse takes a step. Sure, we’re still within a stone’s throw of the barn. But I’m riding a damn horse right now. I don’t care that we’ve barely covered the distance of five parking spots.

“I’m doing it!”

Regal continues along the fence line while Tripp peeks over his shoulder with raised brows. “You’re a natural.”

I wouldn’t go that far. It’s difficult to fight my impulse to tense up, but I focus on copying the way Tripp sits loose in his saddle. Studying turns to staring at the ripples under his shirt each time his back muscles move. I clear my throat and roll my shoulders.

Eventually, we catch up and are right next to Tripp and Regal.

“Gage and Blythe’s house is just down that ditch road and through the trees,” he says, pointing to the side.

I nod, taking advantage of my now-slowed heart rate to survey the ranch some more. It’s extremely well taken care of. The land stretches out like an old photograph with its short spring grass rolling into the horizon, a scattering of mature shade trees, and weathered fence posts. A big, simple life unfolding in every direction.

“You’re lucky.”

He laughs, but it’s quiet, and he shakes his head. “Can’t say I’ve ever considered myself lucky before.”

There’s a reverence in Tripp’s eyes as he surveys the pasture on either side of us, but I don’t miss the way his cadence shifts. As an outsider, it’s clear as day to me that he has a lot going for him and has made a good life for himself here.

His reaction tells me there’s more to it, though. He may not give away the reason he doesn’t count himself lucky so easily. But that’s okay—revealing deep parts of myself feels like staring into the sun for me, too. I get it.

I bravely put the reins in one hand and gesture to the land in front of us with the other. “Well, you live and work at such a beautiful place with people you love, don’t you? You’re good at what you do, and even better, you enjoy it. Put all those thingstogether—it makes you a very rich man, and I don’t mean the amount of money you have.”

“It’s not all that glamorous,” he responds. After crossing an arm over his chest to scratch his shoulder, he turns his upper body toward me with a sly smile. “You think I’m good at what I do?”

I smile and laugh through my nose because no matter what we’re talking about, he always seems to find a way to work in a smirk and an innuendo. “Yes, from what I’ve seen. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he admits. “You should come around more, you know?”

“I’d like to come here more often,” I confess. “I left a heap of work on my kitchen table, but I’m glad I decided to come and learn to ride for a bit. I needed a damn break.”

We slowly pass a stock tank that Tripp leans over to inspect without stopping his horse. The spring breeze picks up, and I turn my head toward it to let it brush gently over my face along with the sunshine. I hope this lasts until the sun goes down because I can’t recall the last time I indulged in a slow afternoon of serenity like this.

“You like doing the app stuff?” he asks as we continue our unhurried ride. “You always seem like the amount of work irritates you, and that you’d rather be outside or doing something else.”

“I much prefer being outside. You’re right about that,” I laugh. “I had a nagging feeling I didn’t belong in my old job teaching at the college, so I started on the app hoping it’d help me move on to something else eventually. It’s not at all what I planned to do forever. Thought I was done with it after we sold it and I moved out here.”

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