Page 31 of Saddle Studs
“Just know that you must be making them so damn proud. They really raised a good soul in you. In all of your siblings.”
Benny smiled at me, gentle and soft. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“And it’s the truth.”
We slipped back into a comfortable silence as he took my words in. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his thighs, beer can cradled between his hands. His profile was lit by starlight and a spill of porchlight, sharp and soft all at once.
“Ya know, I’ve been thinking about entering the barrel race at the festival next month,” he said, eyes fixed out in the dark. “Haven’t done one in years.”
I turned toward him. “You should. You one hundred percent should.”
He shrugged. “I always want to. Then I start thinking about how many people would be there. How I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing, or that I’m scared I’m just going to blank out. And the nerves hit. I end up talking myself out of it.”
“You’d kill it,” I said honestly. “You’d take Juniper, right? She’s fast as hell. And you… You ride like it’s instinct. You just look right in a saddle.”
Benny huffed a soft laugh and tipped his head toward me. “Careful, you’re flirting.”
“No, I’m not.” I paused. “Okay, maybe a little.”
“You’re also not wrong.”
We both smiled, and for a second, the moment stretched out in that special kind of way. Not tense. Not awkward. Just soft. Warm. Safe.
I looked over at him again and couldn’t help it. I reached out and slipped my hand into his. His skin was warm, a little rough from work. He didn’t pull away.
Instead, he shifted his fingers just slightly, enough that they laced through mine.
My heart did this annoying little flip. My chest felt full. Not tight. Not scared. Just full.
“You know,” I said, my voice low, “I think this is the most comfortable I’ve felt in years.”
Benny glanced sideways at me. His eyes flicked down to our hands, then back up. “Same.”
I leaned in.
He didn’t move.
His head tilted just a little.
And then, just as our lips were about to brush?—
SNORT.
A sharp wheeze broke the stillness.
I jumped. Benny did too. We turned simultaneously to see Dennis standing three feet away, staring at us like we’d interrupted his evening. He was backlit by the porch light, making him seem way more sinister than a miniature horse had any reason for being.
“Mother—“ Benny hissed.
Dennis blinked. Then sneezed, loudly, and trotted away.
“I swear to God,” I muttered, rubbing my face.
Benny was laughing, his shoulders shaking, the kind of snort-laugh that meant he was done for.
“I was having a moment,” I grumbled, but I couldn’t help laughing too.
“You’re lucky I didn’t fall off the fence,” Benny said through his laughter. “Maybe you should end up taking him after these ninety days are up.”
