Page 42 of Heart to Heart
Clearly awaiting Kamila’s cue, an unmistakable series of clomps that could only be made by the gallop of a horse, approached from behind us. A wave of excitement befalling us, we all turned to see Tristan galloping at us, looking every inch the sexy goddamned cowboy in his blue jeans and blue flannel shirt, his brown leather boots tucked in the stirrups of one of the most majestic horses I’d seen in person. With sleek black fur covering every inch of its body, the stallion gleamed in the sunlight. To complete the look, a black Stetson was perched on Tristan’s head. How it had stayed up in his gallop over to us must have been through divine intervention.
“Jesus Christ,” Macie murmured what we were all thinking.
In one fluid motion, Tristan dismounted his horse, handing the reins to an assistant just out of camera.
“Hello, ladies,” he greeted us, his camera-ready smile on full display. “As some of you may remember, I played a ranch hand in the movieCowboys Do It Better.”
“You bet I do,” Courtney blurted out to laughter from us and Tristan.
“That movie changed my life. Not only did I learn my way around a crop, which incidentally, I refuse to use...On horses, anyway.”
“That’s right,” Tatiana called from the back of our huddle.
“This is a PG show, Tristan,” Kamila reminded him, giggling.
“Right…right. Anyway, I learned a lot filming that movie and developed a respect for horses, ultimately purchasing one of my own. He nodded at the gorgeous jet-black creature, standing a few feet off to the side, seeming almost bored to be here. “That’s Collin Oates over there.”
Hearing his name, Collin Oates raised his head in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to the other horses behind the fence.
“Riding is like therapy to me, and I thought this would be a great way to get to know each other a little more while enjoying the beauty of the Santa Monica Mountains. So, what do you say, ladies? Are you up for a ride?”
“Giddy-up,” Bianca purred.
Tristan blushed, probably having flashbacks of her body pressed against his and her tongue sliding between his lips.
“That’s right,” Tristan said. “After our trail ride, I’ll choose three of you to accompany me on a mystery date. The rest of you will be taken back to the mansion.”
I’d ridden a horse exactly zero times in my life, and as I mounted Filly Ray Cyrus, my assigned chocolate brown steed with a white diamond on his forehead, my nerves were at an all-time high. We’d all been assigned a protective helmet. Even Tristan had replaced his Stetson with the decidedly less panty-dropping headwear. Yet, I felt like we should have all been outfitted in armor like medieval knights preparing for a joust. At least, I should have been.
“Okay, Filly Ray,” I said to the uninterested animal supporting me on his back after I’d secured myself into the saddle, “you want me on you as much as I want to be on you. But if you can find it in your heart to tolerate me for the next hour or two, I promise I’ll try to find some extra oats or whatever it is you eat. Capiche?”
Filly Ray’s ears drew back, which I took as a sign he’d heard me loud and clear, or he was about to throw me off his back and trot back into the stable to return to whatever his plans had been before his day had been so rudely interrupted by some ridiculous reality TV show. And I must say, I wouldn’t blame him one bit.
When we were all firmly seated, stable hands guided our horses out of the stables, positioning us to be lined up in a row along a path. After we were in position, cameras began rolling and Tristan came trotting back over to us atop Collin Oates, lining his horse on the opposite side of the path, so that he was facing us.
“For those of you inexperienced riders, here is a quick lesson that should get you through the afternoon without any problems. Your horses are trained to listen to various voice commands. To get them to move, make a simple click of the tongue like so.” Tristan clicked his tongue twice, and Collin Oates took a step forward. “Or you can simply use the words ‘Go’ or ‘Forward’, which will get them to move as well. To slow down, tell them ‘Easy’, and to tell them to stop, say ‘Whoa’. If you want to direct your horse to go one way or the other, you take your reign and open your hand in the direction you want your horse to go, making sure to open your elbow out, but not back. If you move your elbow back, the horse will back up.” Tristan demonstrated by opening his elbow out to the right as Collin Oates turned his head, positioning his nose in the direction Tristan directed him.
“And that’s it,” Tristan said. “Do any of you have any questions?”
He looked down the line. When he came to me, he glanced at me briefly before moving on to Jacqueline, mounted next to me. I didn’t like the feeling of disappointment that came over me when Tristan didn’t linger on me. It reminded me of the hold Guy had had on me. How his approval meant more to me than it should have. But Tristan wasn’t Guy. There was never any judgment when he looked at you, only sincere interest. Tristan’s approval didn’t come with a contingency, and maybe that’s why I sought it out harder than necessary to stay in the competition.
“You all seem to be quick studies,” he said approvingly. “In that case, let’s get going.”
Tristan steered Collin Oates to the right, and one by one, my housemates maneuvered their horses, all who’d apparently gotten the memo and listened to their commands the first time. Filly Ray, however, must have been called into work this morning after his PTO was denied. Especially since it took me three maneuvers with the rein, about a handful of clicks, and a ‘Dear God, please go’ for good measure before he decided to achy breaky it down the path, following his colleagues who were much further ahead.
Out in front, Tristan led the group with Kennedy, a clear equestrian, keeping pace with him as they walked, talking about something I couldn’t make out. Hot on their heels was Brittney B., her blonde hair poking out from underneath her helmet, clearly butting in on their conversation. Kennedy seemed to silently curse at her with an occasional backwards glance while still maintaining control of her horse. This was going to get ugly, and if I wanted to have any chance of competing, Filly Ray was going to have to step it up.
“Look, I’ll up it to a bag of oats. A whole ass bag of oats if you would just step it up a bit so that you’re joining the others. Filly Ray snorted his dissonance, the horse equivalent ofget bent, lady. To further his point, his pace remained the same as Amelia began to elbow Brittney B. out, her sights set on Kennedy.
California was a bit of a contradiction. Harsh deserts of the east met mountains that gave way to greener terrain and the splendor of the Pacific Ocean to the west. It had a little bit of every climate all rolled into one. And at the pace Filly Ray was going, I would have the time to take in every last larkspur that lined the path we were following.
“Okay,” I said to Filly Ray, leaning in closer to his ear in the hope that maybe he was just hard of hearing. “I’d like to speak toTristan sometime today, so if you could be so kind as to put some pep in that step of yours, I would really appreciate it.”
When I leaned over, I must have moved the rein just so because, instead of galloping ahead, Filly Ray veered off to the left of the trail, making his way down the side of the canyon.
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” I commanded, as he perched himself on a rocky decline, staring out into the vast expanse of the Pacific. Because, of course, I would land the introspective horse, clearly going through some sort of existential crisis.
I tugged the reins back, hoping Filly Ray would cut his meditation short, but he instead took a step forward, his hoof sliding down the rock, pushing us even further away from the trail.
