Page 95 of When I Accidentally Snagged a Serial Killer

“You heard me.”

She launches herself at me, arms locking around my neck, her face disappearing against my shoulder. “You rented me a horse.”

“Technically, I paid for temporary guest-rider access to a horse.”

She pulls back far enough to swipe at her tears. “That is the least romantic phrasing possible.”

“I considered putting her in a giant purple box with a gold ribbon, but shipping was prohibitive.”

Her laugh breaks free.

Behind us, Owen clears his throat and raises a clipboard. “Before anybody gets too emotional, she still needs to sign paperwork.”

Signing takes twice as long as it should because she keeps glancing at Alice like she expects the mare to evaporate if she turns away. When Owen finally takes the clipboard back, he nods toward the horse. “Go on. Say hello.”

Jubilee doesn’t rush, and that catches me. All that manic excitement settles as she crosses the final few feet and lifts one hand beneath Alice’s nose. She waits. The mare stretches forward, warm breath stirring Jubilee’s hair, and investigates her palm before nudging into it.

Jubilee closes her eyes. “Hello, pretty girl.”

Something gives beneath my ribs. I’ve seen Jubilee happy. I’ve seen her incandescent. This is different, like some piece of the girl she used to be has spent nine years waiting for somebody to open a gate.

She strokes the blaze down Alice’s face, murmuring, then checks the tack with enough familiarity that Owen glances my way. “You already tacked her?”

“Figured you might want to ride,” Owen says.

Her whole face ignites. “Today?”

I fold my arms. “No, Princess. I arranged a horse, walked you out here blindfolded, and recorded your emotional collapse, all so you could stare at her for fifteen minutes before we sent her home.”

She blows a raspberry. Owen chuckles. I consider the morning an overwhelming success.

Twenty minutes later, Jubilee swings into the saddle, wearing one of Owen’s loaner helmets, and her shoulders settle. Her hands find the reins. Her back straightens with muscle memory older than half the defenses I know her by. For several seconds, she doesn’t move. “I remember.” Her voice cracks.

“Course you do.”

Alice walks forward. Jubilee starts slowly, circling the meadow while Owen talks her through the mare’s habits. Within fifteen minutes, she’s trotting, her laughter carrying across my property.

I reach for my phone, then stop. Some things can belong to Jubilage. This one belongs to her. I slide the phone into my pocket and watch.

By early afternoon, Jubilee has showered, changed twice, researched riding boots, and opened a browser tab titled AVERAGE MONTHLY HORSE EXPENSES.

“I’m not buying a horse.”

She doesn’t look up from her laptop. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“You also searched barn conversion.”

“Knowledge is power.”

My phone buzzes on the counter. Hannah. I’m due downtown in forty minutes for the final tasting and packaging approval on our Halloween collaboration, and Jubilee is supposed to come with me. Until her phone rings.

The shift in her happens before she even answers. Her spine straightens, humor sliding aside as she listens. “Yeah. Send me screenshots. Everything, not just what seems important.”

She pulls her laptop closer. When she hangs up, she gives me an apologetic grimace. “Client emergency. Her asshole ex is spamming her with some…unsavory pictures. I need to trace where they’re spreading and help her scrub them.”

I bend and kiss the top of her head. “Go be a badass.”

She catches my shirt and pulls me down into a proper kiss. “Go make pretentious baked goods.”