Page 1 of Ride With Me
1
Savannah
Iflewacrosstheopen field. The wind whipped across my face. My thoroughbred was powerful beneath me as he galloped across the grass, clearing the oxer with room to spare. We neared the end of the cross country course. Two more obstacles to go, and the second day of eventing would be a wrap. I focused on my breathing, keeping it slow and calm as we approached the drop fence. My leg stayed in close contact with the horse’s side, pressing slightly, urging him forward and up. He responded to the command, trusting me and taking off… a split second too early. I felt the contact jarring me hard as his front leg hit the fence. Then we were twisting, falling.
I bolted awake in a sweat. My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to breathe. My cheeks were wet with tears. I finally sucked in a breath, then focused on taking slow, deep breaths—in through the nose, out through the mouth—the way my therapist had taught me.
I repeated the mantra she’d had me learn:This is now. I’m safe. It’s just a dream.
As my heart settled back into a normal rhythm, I picked up my phone from where I’d plugged it in on the bedside table to check the time. 4:30. At this point in the night, it made sense to just get up for the day. It would take me a good thirty minutes to fall asleep again after one of these nightmares—I’d timed it—and I had to be up by 5:30 to head to work.
I settled against the pillow and scrolled through my phone. I might be awake for the day, but I was going to spend every minute I could under the covers until I absolutely had to get out of bed. I loved my job, even in the winter, but after hours of being outdoors in the cold, scooping manure and teaching kids to canter, I came home chilled to the bone every day. An extra half hour or hour of being cozy beneath the duvet was a small luxury.
My alarm buzzed at 5:30 and I reluctantly slid out of bed. Bailey, my golden retriever, was sitting at my bedroom door with an impatient look on her face. I unlocked the door and let her out, letting her have free run of my small fenced yard. The space here was tight, but Bailey got plenty of exercise at the barn, where she was allowed to roam anywhere on the property.
I did my best to run a brush through my mass of wavy auburn hair. It was constantly tangled, and after a few minutes of pulling at it, I gave up and twisted it up into a messy bun. I grabbed fleece lined leggings and a thermal shirt from the top of each drawer without checking to see if they matched. The Carhartts would cover it all, anyway, and the barn wasn’t meant for fashion shows.
I heated a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast while Bailey explored the yard. I poured her a bowl of dog food before I picked up a spoon. I’d gotten in the habit of eating a quick breakfast while standing at the counter, and it had worked well for me for years. I rinsed the bowl and left it in the sink, then grabbed my car keys. I pulled on my muck boots from where they sat just outside my door. There was no way I’d ever bring the mud and manure-covered boots indoors. If someone wanted to steal them, they were welcome to them.
I held the back door of my CR-V open for Bailey, who jumped in, excited to go to the barn. I rolled down one window just enough for Bailey to stick her head out and blasted the heat while we made the short drive to Pike’s Peak Stables. The equine rescue was dedicated to saving horses destined for the kill pen and connecting horses with the perfect humans for them. I still couldn’t believe I’d been able to land a position there, helping with the horses and teaching riding lessons. I’d figured my career with horses had been over after the end of my eventing career, so finding this gig had been a godsend.
I turned the SUV into the dirt lot, the dirt and gravel crunching under the tires. Bailey was ready at the door when I turned off the ignition. She trotted along beside me as I headed into the barn, then took cover in the tack room. The horses had energy to burn first thing in the morning, and Bailey had been around the barn long enough that she knew not to get in their way. I pulled on the Carhartt overalls and an ear warmer before I grabbed several lead lines and started turning horses out into their paddocks.
I pulled on gloves and set to work mucking out the stalls. If you were a horse person, mucking stalls was calming, almost meditative.
If you weren’t, it was just shoveling shit.
By the time the stalls were done, it was almost time for lessons. A couple of my coworkers were finishing changing the water in each of the stalls as I checked the schedule.
I ran my finger down the list. Today looked like a relatively simple day. A five-year-old who was riding for the first time, so he’d be happy to just be on a horse. I smiled, remembering how I’d felt the first time I’d gotten on the back of a lesson horse. The old boy had plodded around in a circle while I held on for dear life, and at the end of that first lesson I’d been hooked.
The day flew by in a haze of mud, dirt, and horse nuzzles. I really did have the best job. The smiling faces of the lesson kids danced through my head while I checked each stall for the night. I gave my favorite mare a kiss on the nose before I pulled the barn door shut and locked it for the night.
My fingers were just starting to thaw when I pulled into my driveway. Bailey followed me into the house and buried her face in her food bowl while I turned on the steaming water in the shower. I let myself enjoy the warmth as the ice in my bones melted and the dirt sluiced from my body before I shaved, making my legs and armpits smooth for the evening.
A pair of tight pants and a skimpy bra showed off my body, toned from hours of hauling hay bales. I brushed some powder over the freckles on my nose and swiped on mascara, then stepped back to look in the mirror.
Not bad.
I just hoped Logan would like it.
2
Savannah
Igrabbedmycarkeys and tucked them into a tiny purse as I headed out the door to Blackstone.
The club was one of Denver’s most exclusive BDSM clubs. I’d gone there for a single’s mixer night last summer, then to one the following month. Then… I’d just kept going to the club. I’d met so many friends that it now felt like another home, even if no one knew the whole story of how I’d ended up in Denver.
I was planning to keep it that way, thank you very much.
I’d been paired with Logan Wilder on the first two nights, when the organizer chose couples to scene together. I’d fallen head over heels from the first time I looked into his green eyes. We’d had an amazing scene and felt so connected, and then they’d paired us together again the second time I’d gone. It had seemed like a sign.
But since then, he hadn’t once asked me to scene again. He was perfectly nice to me, but that was where it ended. Hadn’t he felt the same connection I had?
I took a breath as I pulled the SUV into the club’s parking lot. Tonight was another night. Just hope for the best, like Emma was always saying.
I looked up at the grey, warehouse-like building while I walked quickly from my car to the front door. From the outside, it didn’t seem like anything impressive. But even though it was a bit of a drive from my apartment down in Parker, a suburb southeast of Denver, it was well worth it. From the number of cars in the parking lot, I wasn’t the only one who thought so.
