Page 73 of Almost Perfect
THIRTY-ONE
Calla
The day that should’ve felt slow and claustrophobic turned into one of the best days of my life. It started after a somewhat odd breakfast in that Wyatt seemed antsy. He had such a mellow, staid energy, so this seemed completely out of character. But when I asked him what was wrong, he shook it off.
“Probably just worried about Sheridan.”
“He has food and water, right?”
“Of course, and Clayton checks in on him all the time too, but I’m late getting over there. He’ll expect me.”
The first instance of feeling out of place hit then. So far, I’d felt nothing but welcomed and a little charmed by his overactive hospitality. But this seemed more like I’d inconvenienced him than ever before. He must’ve seen that on my face because he reached across the table and grabbed my hand, touching me for the first time today.
“Not your fault, of course. But I’d like to go soon, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not, go ahead. I can head back home.” I could make a fire and hang out reading, or maybe shovel my porch and walkway.
“Would you want to come? Meet Sheridan?”
Did I want to meet his beloved horse he visited every morning? “Absolutely. Yes. Just tell me what to do.”
And so after that, we whipped the kitchen into shape and piled into his giant truck. The size of the wheels and the vehicle itself made even more sense than it had before as we rumbled over the short pathway from his garage to the barn, only a five-minute drive. It would’ve been a long, hard walk, though.
“He’s fairly friendly, but he might be mad that I’m a few hours late today. Have you ever ridden?”
“No. I’ve always wanted to. Always hoped I’d have a shoot with a horse for a music video, but no such luck.”
He let us into the massive, rather modern-looking structure through what looked like a small office, and then we stepped onto a compressed dirt floor to find eight stalls. I could see four heads from where we stood.
“This is so nice. I expected a rickety old thing with wind whipping through and all the poor horses huddled together in a corner.”
He shot me a disappointed glare.
I chuckled. “Just kidding. I can’t imagine Wyatt Saint owning anything rickety or less than perfect.”
He didn’t respond, but I saw the little head shake as he approached the second stall in. “Sorry I’m late, bud. I hope you won’t hold it against me too long.”
The horse chuffed and snuffled but leaned into Wyatt’s hand when he stroked his cheek.
“This is my friend, Callaway. She’s nice.” He fished around in his pocket, then pulled out an apple and handed it to me. “Here.”
I took the apple, but my pulse quadrupled in the seconds that my hand closed around the firm fruit. “I don’t know what to do.”
A gentle smile flickered across his face, but then he sobered and reached for my wrist. “Hold your hand up with hand and fingers totally flat. Good. Just like that.”
The apple sat in my palm, cold and smooth. I wondered how easily horses detected fear in humans and whether that made them bite. Because now that I was this close to Wyatt’s beloved horse, it registered how gigantic he was, and I’d have a difficult time strumming guitar without this arm.
“Don’t worry. Sheridan’s a good fella. He’s going to use his teeth to take the apple, but he has no interest in your fingers. Just keep ’em flat and he’ll be able to take what’s his.” Wyatt’s hand came to my lower back and walked me forward.
I kept my hand out, doing an internal chant that sounded something likeI’m not scared. See, I’m nice. Don’t eat my fingers. You’re a nice horse, right?Over and over until warm giant horse lips, bristly with whiskers, or whatever they were called on a horse, brushed over my palm and neatly took the proffered fruit.
“Good boy, Sher. Is it a good one?” Wyatt’s arm slipped around my shoulders and hugged me to him too briefly, then reached out and patted Sheridan’s muzzle again.
“It tickled. I didn’t expect that.”
Wyatt just smiled at that. “Want to pet him?”
I swallowed but nodded. The horse’s chestnut brown fur—or was it hair? Yeah, hair—looked so soft and smooth. Slowing my breathing, I reached up and, after his nod of encouragement, pressed my hand to Sheridan’s jaw.
