“I’m not moving away, am I?”
“Only closer, I hope.” In case Mickey didn’t, I did. “Taste me,” I wanted to say.
Riding a horse worked up more of a sweat than I thought it would. Silly me, I assumed only Onyx and S’mores would get exercise. Walking around for cool down afterward, I’d gotten hot both literally and figuratively. Brushing a horse was a workout, too. There was a lot of Onyx to groom. All the other stuff, hauling heavy buckets of water for them to drink, carrying the saddles, taking off the bridles, checking their shoes, no wonder Mickey was in such stellar shape.
“No big romance in your life over the past decade or so?” He broke our ocular attachment to get back on task at the other end of S’mores, too far away from me and Onyx.
“Not a one,” I said. “Pops tried to set me up
