I blink. “An experience? I don’t trust a single part of that sentence. What does this new ‘experience’ entail?”
“Riding with me across rollin’ green paddocks.”
I narrow my eyes. “Doubtful.”
“I promise, you’re here to enjoy the ranch, the other girls are comin’. What do you say?”
I exhale. “You better give me a nice horse, one that is so slow, I could run faster, and let me tell you something ... I don’t run.”
He smirks. “Noted. Come on, I’ll show you how to saddle a horse.”
Great.
It has to be better than shoveling shit.
How come I’m the only one doing it? Where is Kara? Emily? Grace? Maria? They’re all managing to get out of this job.
Just as I say that, a group of them comes walking into the barn. Kara is sweating, following Enzo, wiping at her brow looking red and flustered. I take it back, they obviously weren’t out there having a grand old time. “If this is a retreat, I’m done,” Kara mutters.
Enzo grins. “It’s life, sweetheart. You want to see how a ranch is run ...”
“I would have happily seen that from the sidelines.”
“I quite enjoyed it, actually,” Emily says, nodding with enthusiasm. “It was really great to see just how much work has to be put into running this place, and we’re only in the morning.”
“Glad to see someone appreciates us.” Lake winks at her.
Emily goes red.
Oh boy.
I turn and follow Rhett into the stalls, where he comes out with a short, fat, white horse. It looks like no single saddle in this world would go around its round belly. I narrow my eyes and give Rhett a glare. “What is that?”
Rhett pauses and stares at me. “It’s a horse.”
“That is not a horse, it’s a cow.”
Lake bellows with laughter from somewhere in the barn.
“How do you think my legs are going to get around that barrel?”
Rhett looks at the horse. “Don’t listen to a word she’s saying, Porky, there is nothin’ wrong with you.”
“Porky? You called your horse Porky?” I scoff.
His eyes widen and he leans in close. “Have you seen him?”
I look at the horse again. He’s still munching on hay, little bits of it coming out of the sides of his mouth.
Jesus.
“You’re making me ride that?”
“He can hear you, Lei. Get a saddle.”
I look behind me and see a row of saddles hanging on large hook like pieces of metal coming off the stable walls. “Which one?”
“That one is the only one that fits.”
Rhett points to a shitty old saddle at the end of the row. I walk over, taking it off and grunting as I shuffle back toward him. This is very unflattering. I probably look like a fat little gnome trying to carry this. Oh, the laughs they’re probably having each night about us ...
Rhett helps me saddle up Porky and then we all head out and get ready to mount up. Rhett’s words, not mine. He gets on Diablo like it’s effortless, and up there, on that horse ... oh boy. I wasn’t much into men on horses, but seeing Rhett on that powerful beast does things for me. Diablo snorts and almost dances to the side, like he’s ready to go, ready for his duty. He is absolutely stunning and with Rhett on his back, it’s some real-life spank bank material.
I use a mounting block to get onto Porky and am grateful when I don’t face plant off the other side of him. I manage to get my feet in the stirrups, hold the reins, and look a little like I actually know what I’m doing. I don’t, but nobody else needs to know that. When everyone is mounted up, Rhett takes off.
I don’t expect the fat little horse I’m riding to even want to take a step, but when Rhett moves, so does he. They all do. The horses take off as if they’re being fired out of a cannon. People can be heard squealing from every direction, one of them is most definitely me. This horse is shaped like a barrel, which means he is anything but graceful as he canters off down the field. It’s like riding a rocking horse with two broken legs.
I clutch the saddle, not caring about holding the reins to direct him. My screams can be heard echoing across the field as I bounce around in the saddle. I’m going down. I know it even before the final bounce takes me up and off the saddle. I soar off the back of the horse, not at all gracefully, and then land on the grass with a thump.
I’m not hurt, the horse isn’t even tall enough for me to get hurt. But my shame, oh my shame. I sit up, dusting my shirt off as Rhett pulls the group up and spins Diablo around, galloping toward me and coming to a stop right beside my horrified ass. He looks down at me, and I can see his mouth twitching.
“I can’t say I’ve ever seen someone fall off Porky before.”
“Eat a giant dick,” I snap, angrily swiping at my shirt. “I don’t ride stupid horses. Have you ridden that thing? He’s so fat his run feels like a god damned amusement park ride. You should be ashamed of yourself for feeding him so much, it’s not fair on him. Do you know that obesity is a real problem?”
Rhett jumps off Diablo and leans down, extending his hand to me, smothering a laugh. “Come on, I can’t have you talking about Porky like that in front of his face.”
“No,” I huff, crossing my arms.
“C’mon, sweetheart, get up.”
The masculine tone in his voice makes everything inside me go to liquid. God damn, I’ve never had a crush on anyone in my life that has developed as fast as my crush on Rhett. I’m pretty sure it’s more a sexual fantasy then it is a crush, but either way, when he speaks it makes everything inside of me ache. Ache to just pounce on him, rip his clothes off, and let him do with me as he pleases.
I take his hand and he pulls me to my feet, hanging onto me for a little longer than he needs to. I’m going to pass out if he keeps touching me. When I look up at him, with that flannel rolled up at the sleeves, a smidge of his chest peeking out through the unbuttoned top, the jeans and boots, the way his eyes look even more sexy with the sun beaming down on him, and that beard ... oh that beard.
I’m blushing.
I can feel it even before I see his small grin.
I snatch my hand out of his. “I’m not getting back on that horse.”
“You can get on with me,” he offers.
I blink. “You’re joking, right?”
He narrows his eyes. “Do I look like I’m jokin’?”
“I can’t tell, you always have the same expression, but I have to assume you’re joking because ...”
I wave my hands over my body, as if that’ll give him the answer he needs. There is no way that horse is holding all six-foot god knows what, muscled, masculine man that he is plus me and my tiny, curvy body.
He’ll probably break a leg, and I can’t have that.
Diablo is a king, and kings don’t break legs.
“I’m not sure what you’re gettin’ at,” he murmurs.
Right. Of course he wants me to spell it out. “I’m far too chunky to get on that horse.”
He stares at me, as if he’s confused. “What?”
“Chunky. Round. Curvy. Flabby. Whatever it’s called these days. There is no way that horse can carry you and I together ...”