Page 71 of Filthy Twisted Devil

I raise my brows. “Rainbow Sprinkles?”

“Cute name, isn’t it? Eden named him when she was about nine. Wade and Jasper fought her on it, but Reed took her side, and it stuck.”

“Rainbow Sprinkles must be very secure in his masculinity.”

“He is. He's the biggest stallion we have, but he's gentle as a lamb. Perfect for a nervous rider.”

“Who says I’d be nervous?” I joke.

“Oh, you will be, once you meet Rainbow Sprinkles. He looks like he could stomp you in half.”

“I’ll admit, I’m probably more afraid of Eden’s brothers than I am of a horse.”

“Let me tell you a secret.” She leans close to me. “They’re more scared of you than you are of them. Scared you’ll steal their little sister off to the big city and break her heart.”

“Eden went off to the city all on her own,” I clarify. “She came to start a business. I had nothing to do with that.”

“That’s true, even if the boys won’t admit it.” Rose meets my eyes. “But you could still break her heart.”

I pause for a beat. She looks so serious that I’m tempted to tell her the truth, that Eden and I aren’t really dating and she’s in no danger of having her heart broken. Except I’m not so sure that's true. The line between real and fake has gotten so blurred, it’s possible that I’m not the only one who will be miserable on June 6.

The door opens, and Eden emerges with three steaming mugs on a tray. She hands one to Rose, and then to me. It smells like lemon and honey.

“What were you two chatting about?” she asks, leaning against the bannister.

“Rose was just telling me about your horse-naming ideas,” I say.

She groans. “She told you about Leonardo DiCapricorn?”

I bark out a laugh. “Oh, that’s new to me. I was talking about Rainbow Sprinkles.”

Eden’s face goes pink, and she puts a hand over her eyes. “In my defense, they let a nine-year-old name the horse. What did they expect?”

She looks so adorable, I wish I could capture this moment in my memory. Seeing her here, in her childhood home, she’s so natural and unguarded, and I know that I want her more than I’ve ever let myself want anything.

“We let her name the horses because she spent the most time with them,” Rose says. “We never had to ask her to muck out the stalls. She'd get up early and do it first thing in the morning, no complaints. She was a good observer, even then. She could tell how a horse would ride before she ever got on their backs.”

“Did she ever compete?” Some of the wealthier girls at my high school competed in dressage and horse jumping. It’s easy to imagine Eden urging a horse to leap over a fence.

“She tried a few competitions. She was excellent, but she told me she didn’t understand the point. She’d ask, ‘Why can’t we just ride at home?’”

“That makes sense.” I smile at Eden. “I’d guess you weren’t one for pageantry.”

“No. Racing around a track was much less fun than taking the horses out on the fields,” she says. “If there’s time, I’ll try to take you out on a ride.”

“Speaking of time, I should go inside and get supper started before the boys get back,” Rose says. “You should take my seat, Eden.”

“No, Mom,” Eden says as her mother tries to stand. “Let me get your chair.”

Rose waves that off. “I’m fine.”

Ignoring her, Eden rushes inside. Rose sighs.

“Eden’s overreacting,” she tells me. “I really am fine.”

She stumbles slightly, and I quickly grab her elbow for support. I realize with sudden clarity that she’s not skipping the wheelchair out of stubbornness. She doesn’t want to make me uncomfortable by seeming sick.

“I know you just met me, but I’d like it if you didn’t treat me like company,” I say. “If you’re tired or you need a minute, don’t worry about me. I’d rather you be comfortable.”