I Knew You Were Trouble - Cassie Mae Page 0,29
I can’t seem to pick up my feet.
“What’d you say?” I mumble, my gaze following up the horse’s neck and ears that stand a whole foot taller than I am. At least.
“She’s the little one,” Maddie reiterates, amusement sparkling in her eyes when she looks at my face. Shit, the color’s draining, I can tell. “Can I pet her?” she finally asks Candace. I give her props for being this patient.
“Go for it,” Candace says. “Start with the neck and let her get comfortable with you.”
Candace’s sentence isn’t even finished by the time Mad’s got her hand on the thing.
“Careful of those teeth,” I say. Her fingers are right there. I bet those things could take ‘em off.
“She won’t bite.” Candace chuckles, pushing her hand into a brush. “Hard, anyway.”
“That’s comforting.”
“Are you scared?” Maddie asks, her grin spreading.
“No.”
“Kinda looks like you are.”
“She’s just…” Big. And this is the small one? And Candace is just in there with her, walking around her butt like she won’t kick her into the wall hard enough to break every bone in her body.
I run a hand through my hair and take a breath. Had no idea I was gonna be terrified of horses while Candace prances around like it’s nothing. Is this how she feels all the time with everything else?
Candace tilts her head at me, and I stay frozen.
“You want to pat her?” she offers, getting a halter put on the thing’s face.
“I’m good here.”
A whinny sounds from behind me, and I’m wound so tight I jolt and let out a “yip.” My hat gets taken clear off my head, and when I turn around, a brown spotted horse bucks its head up and down, my beanie clenched in its massive teeth. The girls laugh at me, and Candace nods to the thief of a horse.
“That’s Flaming June.”
“A what?” I ask, rubbing my head. Did the thing take out hair?
“Her name.” She hooks a rope onto Mona Lisa and hands it to Mad, who is still patting away. “It’s Flaming June.”
“Why?”
“All my girls are named after paintings.” She gestures to the stall next to her, to a horse I’m assuming is there but hasn’t made itself known. “Girl with the Pearl Earring, but we call her Pearl.” She nods to the thief. “Flaming June… or June.” Then she pats Mona Lisa’s neck. “And you know this painting, or you’ve been living under a rock.”
“Are you an artist?” Maddie asks, her hand now reaching back to scratch under the horse’s massive jaw.
Candace lifts a shoulder. “Not really.”
“Yeah right,” I counter, avoiding the stare of the head bobber. “You’ve been painting since you were five.”
“That doesn’t make me an artist.”
“Your art does, though.”
“You’ve never seen my art.”
“I’ve seen doodles.”
“Doodles aren’t art.”
“They are when they look like yours.”
This is good. The back and forth is good, calming my nerves. I nearly forgot there was a horse trying to eat me.
Candace sticks her tongue out, pushing the stable door open. Mad’s head tilts, and there’s a question in her eyes, but I don’t know what the hell she’s thinking and she doesn’t say it either.
“I think Mona Lisa is happy with you,” Candace says. “Let me grab Luke, and he can lead you out to the training field with her. I need to get June and Pearl ready.”
“We’re taking her out?” I point to the horse that’s still got my hat in her teeth. I swear the thing grins at me and laughs.
“Playful horsies need their exercise, too,” Candace says in a goo goo voice, and I wrinkle my nose at her as she leaves.
Maddie doesn’t waste one second. “Do you have a thing for her?”
“A what now?”
She narrows her eyes. “I think you like her.”
“Mona Lisa’s cute, but not my type.”
“You know damn well who I mean.” She pats Mona Lisa’s muzzle, an uncharacteristic giggle slipping from her lips when the horse pushes into her and nearly knocks her over.
I use the distraction as a way to not answer my sister’s ridiculous question. If she knew that this is just how Candace and I talk to each other, then she wouldn’t have jumped to that conclusion. And there’s the fact that I’m basically teaching her to get a backbone so she can date another guy.
I cross to the stall that has… who was it? Merl? No… it was a P-something. The other horse. I peer inside the stall, looking down like an idiot, and I only catch the legs of a bright white horse.
My gaze follows