Page 22 of Revelry
“If you’re not learning, why are you asking questions,sugar?” He popped a hip all sassy, mimicking me but my mind was stuck on the way the wordsugardripped from his lips. I wanted to hear that when he was over me, sweating and grunting and pounding his flesh into mine.
I blinked him back into focus, shocked at the way I was panting from the image of the two of us. He must have seen something on my face because he cleared his throat and abruptly turned back to Chester, clicking his tongue and Chester presented his hoof again.
“I don’t know what it feels like,” he said quietly.
The air seemed to go out of the stables and it was like we weren’t talking about the same thing anymore, but I honestly didn’t know what we were talking about.
I sat down on a stool, my elbows on my knees and rested my chin on my hands. “Guess.”
He snorted, clicking his fingers three times. “You done yanking my chain yet?”
Never. “No, I’m serious. Tell me, Tate.”
He was silent for a while, filing the hoof round and lifting it, inspecting it before dropping it. He went over to the oven thingy he had and opened it, pulling out a red-hot horseshoe. He took it to the anvil and start banging it with a hammer, the force rippling up his arm and making me squirm on my stool.
Tate took the shoe over to Chester, lifted his hoof and placed it to the bottom. Steam sizzled off it and I flinched before Tate pulled it away, brushing off the charred residue.
“I don’t know what it feels like for him. But it’s like us getting our nails cut. Like you getting a manicure. There’s no feeling there. It’s just maintenance,” he spoke softly, no frustration or anger.
I didn’t reply, just watched fascinated as Tate fit the shoe and hammered three nails into each side. It was so violent, so brutal and yet the horse didn’t react at all.
Maybe Tate and his leather chaps had the magic touch.
I stayed quiet as he did all four hooves and then packed up his tools, rearranging the ones I’d played with, huffing and clicking his fingers three times again. He headed towards the stable doors.
“You forgot your oven,” I called.
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “It’s a forge,” he replied, and I could have sworn there was a small smirk on his lips that was gone immediately. But it made me desperate for more. I was strangely intrigued by our interaction.
I will make him smile.
Chapter Six
Tate
I watched her out the window, pruning a tree in her yard.
Her earbuds in, round ass wiggling to whatever dirty beat was making her grind like a champ.
My pants grew tight and I frowned at myself, watching her from my house like a creeper but I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away when I knew she was around.
First, there were her incessant questions when I was horseshoeing the other day. Second, yesterday I went out to get my mail and she rushed outside at the same time and raced me to the mailbox. I fought a smile at the memory of the triumphant grin she’d given me when she beat me. Then she randomly asked what my favorite ice cream flavor was.
Including her stopping by the other night, that made three interactions in total and already she was a menace to my life. Shoving her way into it and trying to get to know me like she wanted to be my friend.
I had no friends.
I liked it that way.
My therapist disagreed.
I turned away from Gertrude’s twerking in the yard to pull on my shoes. My monthly therapy session was today, and I was not looking forward to it. Dr. Parker had insisted on setting me tasks to complete by my next session and I’d failed every single one of them.
I hadn’t fought any compulsions.
I hadn’t socialized or made friends.
And I sure as shit hadn’t gotten laid.
