Page 20 of A False Start
If you searched for hourglass figure in the dictionary, I’m sure you’d find a shot of Nadia Dalca’s wicked body.
With Spot latched into the cross tie, we get him ready. I show her the pieces of tack she’ll need, explaining the various parts and how to put each piece on safely.
The tip of her tongue catches between her teeth in concentration as she works to commit what I’m telling her to memory. The suggestive comments and flirting die off, and she makes an earnest effort to learn what I’m attempting to teach.
Something that makes her more alluring to me. She’s smart, savvy, committed to figuring it out, and I can respect that. What’s more, she doesn’t look at me differently since the stutter came up.
No pity. No judgment. No wounded puppy routine. Just a blunt question. Followed by complete indifference. At her reaction, or lack thereof, I relax in her presence. The words flow easily, and I get lost in sharing things I could do with my eyes closed.
“Okay, grab your helmet and let’s head outside.”
“Oh, nah. I’m good.” She walks toward the doorway like she thinks she’s going to march that fine ass out of here without a helmet on.
“No chance. Helmet. Now.”
She turns back to me, rolling her eyes and fisting her hands on her hips in a way that makes me acutely aware of her age. “You know I’m legal, right? A helmet isn’t mandatory.”
My eyes narrow. I didn’t miss that dig. “If you’re legal, stop acting like a child.” I point brusquely to the room down the hall where I know they store the tack and riding apparel. Anger singes my every movement. This is non-negotiable for me. “No helmet. No lesson.”
We face off, her eyes searching my face for answers that she won’t find. Something she must realize because her slender shoulders heave under the weight of a deep sigh. “Okay. Quit your grumbling. You don’t need to take the whole dad routine so seriously. I’ll be right back.”
Within minutes, she’s striding back out of that room, fastening the strap beneath her chin. “If you had insane curly hair that takes forever to straighten, you’d understand,” she mutters as she takes hold of Spot’s reins and struts out into the center of the oversized sand ring.
Hair. She’s worried about her fuckinghairinstead of her brain. My teeth grind and my head shakes as I follow her in, trying to keep my temper under control.
“Over by the mounting block,” I snap, striding over to the big wooden step stool in the middle. “Now, before you get on, you’re going to check the girth. Sometimes a horse will puff up when you cinch it the first go ‘round, which means it’s loose when you get on. Rookie way to fall off.” I internally pat my back for not tripping up the wordto.
It’s a constant running tally. A fixation I can’t stop. It’s exhausting.
Nadia nods, reaching under the flap of the saddle, pushing up onto her tippy toes as she struggles to tighten the girth. Spot’s ears flit back, unimpressed.
“You’re not trying to suffocate him. Here,” I step in beside her, close enough that her upper arm brushes against my bicep. The heat of her body seeps into mine as the faint scent of her lotion hangs in the air between us. But she doesn’t move away from me. She watches my hands, still perfectly concentrated. But I’m distracted by the rosy tip of her tongue that’s captured between her teeth again. “You don’t need to squeeze him t-t-to death.” My heart pounds in my chest as I try to ignore the slip. If I pretend it didn’t happen, maybe she will too. The more I fixate, the worse the stutter becomes. The more nervous I am, the more it comes out to play.
I tug on the girth, testing for just the right amount of wiggle room. “About like that. Feel it.”
“Okay.” Her brow furrows as her slender fingers wrap around the girth, testing it the way I just did. “Got it. What now?”
Her face, all smooth, sun-kissed skin, heart-shaped top lip, and slightly fuller bottom lip, tips up at me, seeking direction. Eyes like warm leather, soft and free of judgment.
I clear my throat. “Now you get up on the block.” She does so immediately. “Reins in your left hand.” I hand them to her and close my hand over hers, wrapping her fingers around the well-worn leather.
“Good.” My voice is quiet. “That hand here on the pommel, other hand at the back.” As I position her body, we fall into sync. I direct and her body follows. We inhale and exhale in unison, and an eerie sense of calm overtakes me. After years of hiding away from people, I never expected to feel this at ease in the presence of someone I barely know.
But there’s something about her. Natural and comforting. It’s like I already know her somehow. “Now just swing a leg over and see how you feel in the tack.”
Within moments, she’s seated up on my horse with a pleased smile touching her lips while I stare up at her. Breath stolen right out of my lungs, like it was two years ago, at a complete loss for what to say next.
I can’t pull my eyes off her. I have one hand on Spot’s muscular shoulder, while the other hangs limp at my side. My eyes are glued to her face, fixated on the way she glows from within.
“I did it! I’m riding.” Her grin could light an entire stadium with its brightness.
“I mean, you’re just sitting there.” I chuckle quietly. The excitement radiating off her isalmostinfectious.
“Get outta here, Debbie Downer.” Her head shakes as she gathers the reins in one hand and slides a palm up over the crest of Spot’s neck. “Thanks, buddy. I’m going to cross this off my to-do list with your help,” she murmurs down at him. Like he’s done her some huge favor by just standing there.
Like the simplest things in life bring her pleasure. It makes me desperate to know what else is on that list. What else could bring her happiness like what’s flowing off her right now? Because, in this moment, I think I’d do anything to check those things off for her.
9
