Come To Me (Dare With Me #3) - J.H. Croix Page 0,19

fed them before you picked me up.”

“Do they stay in the pasture all night?”

I shook my head. “I need to put them in their stalls. Want to help?”

“Of course.” He tucked the spare helmet into the compartment under the seat and set his on top of the seat before falling into step beside me.

My senses were heightened, attuned to the frequency of Diego’s presence. The sound of our footsteps on the gravel was broken by an owl calling in the trees nearby. When the horses saw me heading toward the barn with Diego, they trotted over to meet us there.

Stepping through the large sliding door into the barn, the soothing scents struck me—hay, horses, and an underlying hint of leather. These were the smells of my childhood when I rode horses. My mother had ridden horses, and we had neighbors who had a farm where we rode nearby. It was a calming spot in my childhood where it always felt like I was scrambling to catch up to the brilliance of my parents and my brother.

Dyslexia was a common learning disability, but it was still confusing when nobody knew what was going on. Sadly, my parents’ high expectations for my brilliance had interfered with the school figuring out the issue sooner. Once doubt seeps into your soul, it lingers, like mold that you can’t get out of a room sometimes. I’d largely come to peace with that. I knew my parents loved me, but what happened had shaped my childhood. School is such a big part of childhood that when it’s not going well and you’re struggling, it could turn into a bundle of uncertainty and insecurity. Horses and softball were what I’d loved during those years, and only one of those loves remained unscathed.

Diego glanced around. “Nice barn.”

It was a small barn and well-maintained. There were four stalls with an aisle in between. Crossing to the other end of the barn, I opened the door to the small paddock. My elderly buddy, Shasta, walked slowly into the barn, lifting his nose to nudge me in the shoulder.

“Hey, sweetie,” I said, scratching him on the forehead. He turned his attention to Diego, curiously sniffing him and nibbling lightly on his shoulder as he passed by.

“I think that’s his version of a kiss,” I said with a laugh.

Diego didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, instantly endearing himself to me. He laughed as he greeted Shasta. Shasta had once been a speckled horse, as I knew from the photographs in the house, but he was almost all white now. He enjoyed being brushed, so I groomed him daily and took care of his mane and tail, which he flicked affectionately when he passed by. Shasta knew the routine well and walked into his stall, the closest one by the door to the paddock.

Charlie came trotting through, stopping quickly to greet Diego and appearing to recognize him. “I think he knows he’s seen me before,” Diego said with a chuckle.

“Probably. It was memorable, what with the motorcycle and all.”

After Charlie went into his stall, the other two horses followed. One was a dark bay with a star on his forehead, owned by a woman who lived down the road and came by fairly regularly. The other was a chestnut with a wide white blaze on his face. He was also owned by a neighbor nearby, although his owner didn’t stop by as often.

Once all the horses were in their stalls, Diego followed my lead without me needing to explain it, closing and latching their stall doors. We fetched some hay, and he helped me toss it into their stalls.

As we walked out, my belly shimmied with nervous anticipation. I wanted to invite him inside, but I couldn’t remember the last time I had invited anyone into a place where I lived.

Apparently, my mouth was ahead of my brain, and my question tumbled out. “Would you like to come in?”

“Of course. Don’t you remember? You promised me the perfect brownie.”

“Oh, right. Did I say the brownies were perfect?”

“Maybe not exactly, but that’s why we passed on dessert. Now, if you’ve changed your mind, I won’t insist.”

When I glanced sideways and saw his teasing smile, my belly did a few flips and butterflies spun like mad. “Oh, I insist,” I managed, feeling my cheeks heat.

The place I was renting was a small, ranch-style home. We went in through the front door, which was in the center of the rectangular-shaped structure and had a small curved