Page 84 of Mine Again
Sebastian grins at me, the kind of grin that makes it impossible to remember why I was nervous in the first place.
“This one’s yours,” he says, motioning to the chestnut, whose ears flick lazily as if even that small effort is beneath her.
“Is she dead?”
“Only emotionally.”
“Perfect. We’ll get along great then.”
I shoot him a look as I approach the horse. “Be honest. Did you pick the slowest one you had because you expect me to fall off?”
“No,” he says, as I step closer. “I picked Luna because she won’t take off on you, no matter how bad your steering is.”
“So… yes.”
He grins. “I’m just being responsible. You said you’re traditional, remember? I’m protecting your virtue and your tailbone.”
He turns to the horse, adjusting the reins before facing me again. His expression softens, that grin of his giving way to somethinggentler. “Let me help you.”
His hands come to my waist, and in one smooth movement he lifts me into the saddle as if I weigh nothing at all. He steadies me, his hands lingering a second longer than necessary, his gaze flicking up to meet mine.
“You look good up there,” he says, and that grin of his makes it impossible not to smile back.
“You better keep the compliments coming, given you only adhered to one of my conditions about riding.”
“I promise the path we’re taking is easy and flat. It’s not true cross-country.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“And as for the fancy boots…” He disappears into the stable for a minute and comes back out, swinging a large paper shopping bag like a triumph.
He pulls out a box and opens it, revealing a pair of brand-new, fancy riding boots.
“They’re for me?”
He looks around dramatically, pretending to scan the area. “You’re the only one here these boots could fit.”
He takes them out of the box and comes around to the left side of Luna, who hasn’t moved an inch. He pulls off my sneaker and slips my foot into the boot. Then he does the same on the other side, his touch so easy, so unhurried, it sends a shiver up my spine.
“How did you know my shoe size?”
“I’m observant. And I’m very good at guessing sizes.”
“Hmm. Does that mean you do this often?” I gesture to the horse, the boots, and myself perched awkwardly on the saddle.
“Isabella Accardi, are you jealous?” His grin widens, teasing, but his eyes search mine, like the answer matters more than he lets on.
Am I?
The idea of him doing this for another woman, of another woman sitting here where I am now, with his hands at her waist and that focused attention, twists something in my chest.
I don’t dignify his question with an answer, but raise an expectant eyebrow instead.
“You’re the first woman I’ve allowed in my stables. This place is special to me. It’s where I can be myself, doing what I love. It’s not something I ever wanted to share with someone before.”
“And now you do?” I ask as he mounts his horse, the one that looks like it’s ready to race the wind.
He brings his horse alongside mine, so close that my knee brushes the leather of his saddle. His eyes meet mine.
