Page 17 of Pretty Little Scars

“Isn’t everyone?” My voice is tight, just like my grip on the saddle horn. But then his hand covers mine, and the muscles in my shoulders and hands relax beneath his firm touch.

“You’re not that far up. I promise, you won’t get hurt up there. We don’t have to move from this spot until you’re comfortable in the saddle.”

“We might be here until Christmas,” I whisper, and I can see him smile out of the corner of my eye. Tucker Hendrix has a great smile. “What do you plant in the flower boxes on the house?”

“Is this your way of distracting yourself?”

“Yep.” I chance looking down at him and then squeak and look up again. “Just talk to me, Hotshot.”

“I haven’t planted anything in them. When I was little, my mom put things in there, and when Ava was in high school she planted black-eyed Susans because she liked the name.”

“Black-eyed Susans are considered a noxious weed,” I inform him, shifting in the saddle. Okay, this isn’t so bad. “They’ll take over everything. But they’re pretty. You should plant something in there this summer. Do you have a vegetable garden?”

“No, I don’t.”

Now I do look down at him and find him watching me with the calmest green eyes. So patient. So freakinggood.

“You have the space,” I inform him. There’sso muchspace out here. It’s a shame he doesn’t have gardens.

“I’m going to lead Ellie in a slow walk. Are you okay with that?”

I nod and then do my best not to yelp when Ellie starts to walk.

Jesus, who’s idea was this?

“So, you think I should plant a garden?”

“Sure. You could do raised beds, but you’d have to do an enclosure of some kind to keep the deer out. Or, you could have a greenhouse. Both, really.”

“What kind of vegetables would you plant?” he asks, as if we’re sitting on the porch, having a normal conversation. As if I’m not forty feet in the air, riding around on a beast that could take off running at any second and throw me to the hard ground, breaking my leg in the process.

“Oh, the usual things. Tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers. Potatoes for sure. Maybe some lettuce and squash. You could do onions and jalapeños, and then you could make your own salsa.”

“Do you make your own salsa?” he asks me and steers Ellie to the left.

“Shit, I’m going to fall off.”

“No, you won’t. Whoa, girl.” Ellie comes to a stop, and then Tucker takes my hand in his and presses it to the horse’s neck. “Just pet her. Enjoy her. Ellie loves being out here with someone on her back. She loves the attention.”

I brush my hand back and forth and soak in the warmth of the horse and feel myself relax a little. I love horses. “She’s a good girl.”

“Yes, she is. You’ll get used to this. Now, you take the reins.”

“I shouldnotbe in charge of any of this, Tucker.”

He chuckles and presses the leather into my hands. “Yes, you should. I’ll tell you what to do, and this horse will mind her manners.”

I want his hands on me again.

And that never happens.

He talks me through riding this gorgeous animal on my own, and when we make our way back to the barn, he helps me slide off her, and I turn in his arms and high-five him.

Tucker looks surprised as he slaps his hand against mine, and then he laughs.

“Did you actually enjoy that?” he asks.

“Holy shit, it was great. I mean, my ass is gonna be sore”—his eyes darken—“and I’ll never win at a rodeo, but yeah. That was fun.”