ZOE
I was drenched. Like, soaked-to-my-soul drenched. My clothes were sticking to me in ways that were both offensive and weirdly indecent. Blake decided to stop because the rain is pouring so hard now.
He slid off the horse like some kind of action hero, all smooth and effortless, and then turned to me with a hand outstretched. “Need help?”
“I need a vacation,” I grumbled, ignoring his hand as I tried to slide off myself. Naturally, I slipped, flailed like a toddler learning to walk, and landed with all the grace of a wet noodle.
“Careful,” Blake said, catching me by the waist, his grip solid and annoyingly steady. He smirked like this whole thing was the best comedy show he’d ever seen. “You good?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I huffed, swatting his hands away and stomping into the hut
