I stand fidgeting near the fence while I watch Xavier take Pioneer out and start to saddle him. Yes, I groom these guys every day, but that doesn’t stop them from being so freaking large.

They tower over me. Pioneer is something like twelve to fifteen times the size of little old me. I have to get up on a two-step stepladder to groom Paddyshack, one of the ex-racehorses, he’s so tall.

Pioneer is calm as can be as Xavier tosses the saddle on his back.

Meanwhile, Sugar comes over to me and bumps into my shoulder.

Which makes me feel like crap for dissing her earlier.

“Not now.” I take a few steps away.

She just follows, her big head nuzzling at the back of my neck.

Then comes the licking. I swear she’s as bad as her owner about personal space.

“Sugar, not—” I gently push her away and take another few steps forward, but she also shares Xavier’s stubbornness. She just keeps following me and gently butting her head into my neck and shoulders until I turn around and give her the attention I usually do.

With a sigh, I give in and start scratching at her muzzle, then up her long nose and around to her flowing dark brown mane.

“Are you trying to turn me into a softie? I’m supposed to be a mean New York bitch.” She noses against my hands and makes a blowing, chuffing noise that I know means she’s happy and even excited.

I roll my eyes and then lean my forehead against her nose. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m about to do this.”

She keeps rolling her head back and forth against mine.

I turn around and look at Xavier. He’s paused, his hand on Pioneer’s bridal, just watching me with Sugar. Smug bastard probably already knows what I’m going to say. I roll my eyes again as I gesture toward Sugar.

“I’ll ride her.”

At least he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He simply leads Pioneer close and ties his lead to the fence, then returns to the barn for another tack and saddle. Within ten minutes, he’s led both horses into a smaller paddock, got Sugar saddled, and set what he calls a mounting block on the ground beside her.

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, am I really going to do this?

Sugar might be a sweetie, but she’s so damn big.

I look around anxiously at the fence posts of the paddock. Okay, so they look sturdy enough, but are they really enough to stop a fifteen-hundred-pound horse if she gets it in her head that she longs for the wilds out yonder again?

Sugar turns her head toward me as if to say, what’s the matter here?

“She can sense your unease.”

I look to Xavier sharply. “Will that make her bolt? If I’m nervous?”

He smiles at me and pats Sugar’s neck. “Nope, not our girl. I lent her out to a horse therapy program for a couple months earlier this year. She’s always calm as can be. I told you, it’s her nature. Once I realized that about her, I started training her with therapeutic work in mind.”

I pause, my own hand lifting to Sugar’s flank, and stare at him, my gaze flicking for the briefest second to the maimed half of his face.

For the most part I rarely notice it anymore. Which is strange because at first it seemed so monstrous. It’s not like I don’t see it when I look at him or even that my eyes skirt past it. It’s just… part of him. And it’s really only the upper portion of the left side of his face. I’m far more captivated by the rest of him, even his face if I’m being honest.

Ugh, I hate that I’m captivated by him, but there it is. The naked, bared truth. And my damn curiosity about him refuses to be slaked.

Were there therapy horses where he was when he was recovering from… whatever the hell it was that happened to him? Is that why he started this horse farm out in the middle of nowhere? Why is he the way he is?

“I can stand here all day,” Xavier says, leaning a hip against the paddock post. “You’re not getting out of saddling up on that horse.”

My eyes jump to his face as I’m jolted back into the moment. Right. The horse. My first riding lesson. The stubborn-ass man in front of me.

But as I switch my gaze to the saddle and Sugar’s broad body fills my field of vision in both directions, suddenly I want to do this for me, not him.

I’m not some shrinking violet. I dealt with multi-million-dollar accounts and hobnobbed with New York’s snobbiest and most elite. I will not be bested by a gentle horse who has a penchant for apples and sugar cubes.

I step up on the mounting block, grab the saddle where Xavier showed me, and put my foot in the stirrup, then hike myself upwards.

For a second, I’m terrified that she’s going to stamp forward like Samson did and I’ll fall off straightaway.

But Sugar stands perfectly and placidly still.

Meanwhile I’m frozen, one foot in the stirrup, standing on one side of the horse and realizing just how very high up off the ground I suddenly am.

“Breathe,” comes Xavier’s calm voice. “You’re doing wonderful. Just breathe and shift your weight forward. Grab the saddlehorn with both hands and swing your leg over the saddle.”

That seems like way too many instructions at once. I look down at him, panicked.

He puts a steadying hand on the calf of my leg that’s in the stirrup and repeats himself. Eventually, I do what he says.

And then, holy shit! I’m riding a horse!

Okay, I’m sitting on a horse, but then the next thing I know, Xavier has handed me the reins and Sugar is moving and I am actually riding a horse.

“Oh my God, I’m doing it!” I squeal excitedly.

“You’re doing beautifully.”

I have a death grip on both the reins and the saddlehorn. When I dare a glance away from Sugar’s mane to look in Xavier’s direction, he’s beaming one of those rare, full-toothed grins at me. It’s enough to take my breath away.

Well, that and the fact that Sugar picks up her pace and really starts to walk forward like she’s decided she’s got some place to go.

“Oh my God, oh my God, what do I do?” I ask in a panic, my grip on the saddlehorn going white-knuckled.

Xavier chuckles. “You’re fine. Just pull back gently on the reins if you want her to slow down.”

Naturally I yank too hard. Sugar comes to a sudden stop. She turns her head around to look at me like, who is this noob riding me who has no idea what she’s doing?

“Sorry, sweetie,” I apologize, daring to reach forward and pat her.

In a swift motion, Xavier is up on Pioneer’s back and riding up beside me. The full grin has faded, but there’s still the clear air of pride and satisfaction shining in his eyes when he looks over at me.

“Let’s take a walk. Hold her reins loosely.”

I take a deep breath then hold the reins like he demonstrates on Pioneer. With his patient instruction, he leads me through my first horse ride. Initially we just go in circles around the paddock. Then he teaches me how to make turns and finally he sets up cones and I try to lead Sugar through the obstacle course—with middling to fair levels of success. On our last pass, we manage to only knock over one out of seven cones.

And I can’t help the ridiculous grin from splitting my face by the time the sun is setting. Xavier tells me it’s time to get off but I beg for another half hour.

Which, yeah, I’m regretting by the time he helps me back off the mounting block and I realize just how sore my inner thighs are. Turns out I’m not used to being spread-eagled riding a large beast for a whole afternoon.

Haha, insert that’s-what-she-said joke here, I know. I’ll definitely be sore tomorrow. And even still, I kind of immediately want to say screw it, I’ll just take a hot bath and do some stretches and then let me back up there because that was the most awesome thing ever!

Xavier’s still holding my forearms from helping me down when I look up at him expectantly. “I can ride again tomorrow, right?”

“Looks like someone’s caught the fever,” he chuckles. “We’ll see. It depends on how sore you are.”

“I’ll stretch.” I bend over and start stretching my inner thigh muscles and hamstrings.

“Don’t forget your gluteus,” comes Xavier’s voice from behind me. Then his hands are on my ass, giving me a deep massage. “Horse riding can be punishing on the derrière.”

I jolt upright and twirl around, face heating. “Yes, I’ll take that into consideration.”

He seems amused at my red cheeks. And seriously, I ought to be used to his audacity by this point, but we’re here out in the open. Usually he grabs me when we’re in the barn or the house. I tense slightly, sure he’s about to throw me down right here in the open paddock with the horses looking on, but instead he just makes a clicking noise toward the horses and nods toward the stable. “Let’s groom these guys and get the rest of the crew into stable for an early night.”

I look him up and down but he’s already turned his back to me, leading Pioneer toward the stable.

An early night?

Oh dear, that can only mean he’s got something insane in store for me. What’s it going to be? Introducing anal? I keep waiting for that one. I’m sure it’s in his bag of tricks since he likes shoving every other object possible in my body. He’s teased a few times at my anus but never gone whole hog back there, thank God.

But since I’m on my period, maybe now he’ll think it’s the perfect time for experimentation?

I’m tempted to hurry through grooming but after the special experience Sugar gave me, I want to spend a long time with her, even running detangler through her tail and brushing it out until it’s glossy and shining. Then I run through the basic grooming regimen on all the other horses that I’m assigned to while Xavier takes the other half.

I can’t imagine how he did all of this alone before I came here. Each grooming session, even if you rush, takes around twenty minutes. First there’s the curry comb, then the hard and soft brushes, then brushing out the mane and tail (occasionally having to use detangler on the tail), and finally picking out their hooves. It’s insane the amount of work that goes into taking care of a single horse, much less ten of them. It’s endless and unrelenting. You don’t get a single day off.

And Xavier’s been doing it alone for who knows how long. Along with taking in mustangs like Samson and other problem horses along the way?

Every day I spend here, the more curious I get about his background. Who the hell is he? Then again, there are far more pressing questions of what the enigmatic man is going to do to me tonight.

As I finish hanging up Bob’s brushes by his stall—each horse gets their own individual grooming gear to keep from spreading infection, see what a knowledgeable horsewoman I’m becoming?—I look across the stable that’s dappled with long shadows in the early evening sunlight. Xavier’s bent over, cleaning out a bucket by the spigot near the wall, his powerful back muscles flexing as he flips it over and spills soapy water into the wide basin to drain. He’s pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and his thick forearms glisten with water droplets as he finishes washing the soap off the bucket and sets it upside down to dry. Then he glances over his shoulder and catches me watching him.

I quickly avert my gaze and look out the barn door at the pink sky where the sun is slowly dropping toward the horizon. “Should I go in and see if the roast is ready?”

“Give me a second, I’m just finishing up here. I’ll go with you.”

I swallow and nod, feeling incredibly stupid and awkward all of the sudden. Like I’m back in junior high staring at the boy I have a crush on.

Which is just… what?

Xavier turns off the spigot and grabs a towel to dry his hands on, then I feel him by my side. It’s a hot day. We’re both sweaty and stink of horses I’m sure—you sort of become desensitized to the smell when you’re surrounded by it all day, but still I feel self-conscious when he wraps his arm around my waist and starts walking with me back to the house like that.

It’s a position that seems like it would be awkward—and it has been when the few boyfriends I’ve had in the past have attempted anything like it. Hell, even holding hands with other guys has been uncomfortable. But somehow Xavier just fits my body into his and, in spite of our height differences, he makes it work. He takes command of my stride and just seems to, I don’t know, absorb me into him. Take me into his sphere so that I’m stepping when he steps and if there are any fumbles, his strong arm around my waist is always there to smoothly guide me over them.

Before I know it, we’re at the back door.

And like normal, he leads me to the sink to wash my hands. I extend them just like always and let him squirt the soap into them. Then I wait while his large, calloused fingers move over my hands, which are beginning to slowly develop callouses of their own.

Life with Xavier has become a series of rituals.

His fingers intertwine briefly with mine as the soap turns foamy. His hands are so much larger than mine. They overwhelm my small ones. Just like everything about him. He overwhelms me.

I’m glad when he urges our conjoined hands under the running water to clean away the soap. I’m not sure why today things feel different. So much more… I don’t know—intense? Or… vibrant, maybe, if that’s the right word.

Like I said, my life with Xavier has become one of rituals and routines. That’s been something of a safe haven for me. When there’s routine, you can try to lose yourself in the monotony of it. Granted, I’m never truly able to do that with Xavier because he’s always changing things up, surprising me at all times of day with his strange desires and ways of pleasuring me. But still, there was a basic assumption to the way the day would go.

But now… It’s stupid. I just rode a horse. And got my period.

Nothing has changed.

I’m making something out of nothing.

Except that after dinner, after Xavier exchanges my tampon—which yes, he insists on doing himself again—we take a shower instead of a bath.

Xavier is no less attentive during the shower. And he’s extra gentle.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers, massaging my scalp as he washes my hair with a honeysuckle scented shampoo. “You handled Sugar so beautifully today. I felt honored to witness the trust you showed her.”

He pulls me against his warm chest, his hands still in my hair as the shower sprays my lower back.

I scoff, my neck feeling warm from his praise. “I didn’t really do anything. It was just Sugar. It was natural.”

His hands drop from my hair suddenly and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him. Like… hugging me. Is Xavier actually hugging me right now?

“Exactly,” he breathes out, his chin notched on my head. For another long moment, he just holds me there. And then, like the moment never happened, he retreats and goes back to shampooing my hair.

The rest of the shower continues. He washes my shoulders, my back, my rump. He lifts my arm and soaps my armpit and shaves me as carefully as always. But when he moves around to my breasts, he doesn’t massage or squeeze them. He merely washes them with brisk efficiency.

Usually this is the point when our bathing time starts to get erotic.

I think surely when he pumps soap into his hands and taps my legs for me to spread them that things will start getting intimate.

Nope.

He just shaves my legs and then… well, you know.

Then he quickly soaps himself down and washes his hair.

Then.

He.

Turns.

The.

Water.

Off.

When he pulls the curtain aside and grabs a towel, I’m left standing there like, wait, what?

There is a routine to things and he just broke the rules.

I do backbreaking work every day and then I, you know, get a reward.

I blink. Like a hard blink. And realize how fucked up all the thoughts I just had were. What, suddenly I’m expecting to get paid for farm work in orgasms? And since when did I start looking forward to— I mean, isn’t that just something I endure— I’m not supposed to want— GAH!

Xavier seems completely unperturbed by anything. He whips open the towel and starts drying me, calm as can be.

Oh my God, sometimes he’s so placid I could just scream! Is he not… you know, interested, because I’m on my period?

My mouth drops open to ask but then I clamp it shut. What am I really going to say? He’s the enemy, remember?

Holy crap, it’s already happening. I’m getting brainwashed. I was just about to whine to the man basically holding me captive because he’s not keeping up his campaign of sexual manipulation.

I squeeze my eyes shut as he runs the fluffy towel between my legs, spending what seems like an inordinate amount of time making sure I’m dry there.

And the unwanted thought pops in: but seriously though, is he like grossed out because of my period?

Ugh, shut up brain!

Because if he is, then he totally shouldn’t be all up in there volunteering for tampon duty.

“I’m really tired,” I announce, stepping forward and taking the towel out of Xavier’s hands to wrap around myself. “Can we go to bed now?”

He looks briefly startled at my quick motion but the next second seems amused by me.

God, I hate it when he’s like that. When he gives off this aura that he knows exactly what’s going on in my head and he’s laughing at me.

I turn on my heel and stomp toward the bedroom. I swear I hear him chuckle behind me which makes me even more infuriated.

I know he likes me to leave my wet towel on a peg near the head of the bed, but instead I drop it on the floor and slide underneath the covers. Then I cringe and pull the sheet tight around myself. God, Mel, are you trying to get him to react? What the fuck is wrong with you?

I jump out of bed and hang the towel up.

Which Xavier naturally observes from the bathroom door. I pretend I don’t see him as I get back into bed. Covers pulled high, I turn on my side. Facing the half of the room away from his side of the bed.

Oh my God, we have sides of the bed. Like an old married couple. No, not like that. Nothing like that. At all.

In fact, I’ll just scoot to the middle of the bed. There. See? No sides. Ha.

But… maybe he’ll think I’m trying to initiate something with him.

Which I am not.

I wiggle back over to my side.

I scrupulously do not look over at him to see what he might think of all these odd acrobatics.

I settle in and freeze in place. Nothing to see here. I’ve fallen asleep. Just like that. I’ve suddenly mastered the art of falling asleep in zero point two seconds. I try to regulate my breaths.

Totally convincing.

The light flips off.

Ha. Completely pulled it off.

The bed dips with Xavier’s weight.

I hold my breath. No, damn it, don’t hold your breath. Regular—in, out, in, out.

A big, muscled arm snakes around me and he pulls me so that I’m sandwiched against his body. “You sure are damn cute, precious.”

Precious.

Not pet.

My eyes are already shut but I squeeze them tight at the swell of emotion his simple words elicit.

He’s hard against my backside.

I wait for him to start touching me.

I wait for something.

Precious.

His chest moves up and down behind me and within several minutes, there’s only the light sound of his quiet snores filling the room.

But for me, sleep is a long time in coming.