Heirly Ever After, Vernon, Magan [best thriller novels to read .txt] 📗

took a careful step forward. “But I’m going to need something in return.”

“Jacob…I…”

Shaking my head, I pointed toward her sketchbook. “When you’re done with your drawing, I want a copy, in exchange for the lessons.”

She glanced from the sketchbook then back to me. “This? Really?”

I nodded. I would have helped her anyway, but I saw the way she talked about her art. How she made it dismissive. She needed to know it was appreciated.

“Yes, really. It’s beautiful, and I’d love to have it for my place back home.”

She bit her bottom lip, running her thumb along the charcoal edges of the hills forming on the paper.

“Lessons for an original Madison drawing? Sound like a deal?”

She blinked hard, letting out a deep breath, and I held my own, waiting for her answer.

Finally, she nodded. “Okay. We have a deal.”

Chapter Seven

Madison

Horseback riding.

I remember when Natalie and I had been little and getting allergy tested, the doctor had asked about testing us for different animal hair. Our mom had quietly told the doctor not to worry about horses because we probably weren’t ever going to see one. She hadn’t wanted to let us know that, of course.

And that was the problem with growing up without a lot of money.

When I’d started school, I realized other kids spent their weekends at amusement parks or Friday nights out for pizza. I’d had no idea how bad off we were until Dad passed away.

Mom had never wanted us to know.

Now Natalie had more money than she could ever dream of and was going to be marrying an English lord with infinite resources.

Bet Mom didn’t think any of this would happen during our allergy testing.

And neither did I.

Which was why I now stood in the nicest barn I’d ever seen, my boots digging into the hay as I stared at the big brown mare in front of me.

At least I thought she was a mare. Everything I knew about horses came from American Girl books I’d read in elementary school.

“This is Buttermilk,” the older gentleman who’d greeted us at the barn said.

I assumed he was the stablemaster.

“Next to Buttermilk is Satin, who Lady Natalie usually rides.” The man nodded to the wooden stall where a large black horse looked at me with its dark eyes as if it were staring into my soul. If it was going to keep looking at me like that, how the hell was I going to ride next to Natalie?

“Are they good to take out, Mr. Potts?” Jacob asked, putting his hand on the front of the horse’s face, right between her eyes, as he brushed his palm against it.

Did the horse like that? What if it bit or bucked him?

Ugh.

I didn’t want to ask Jacob for any more favors, but I was way over my head with all of this stuff, and if my sister insisted we do weird things like ride horses with her future sister-in-law, then I owed it to her to try and not to make an ass of myself.

“Yes, sir, both Buttermilk and Satin are ready to ride, just as you and Lord Gavin requested.”

“I’ll help Miss Madison with Buttermilk, then I’ll take Satin,” Jacob said, taking over the situation.

The man nodded before opening the gate and tugging on a small leather rope attached to the horse from somewhere. There were so many different random leather things on her face and her back that I wasn’t sure what was what.

If I had asked my sister for the wifi password, maybe I could have googled a bit more about horseback riding before this.

The large black helmet and stiff pants with knee-length brown boots Natalie had picked for me didn’t look particularly great—not that I was trying to impress the horse. Or Jacob, who filled out the riding boots and pants way better than I did. Including the helmet.

Damn him for being handsome and helpful.

Jacob reached for my hand, and I shot it back, which caused the horse to whinny, glaring at me with its large coal eyes. Or at least I interpreted it as a glare.

“Madison.” Jacob’s voice was soft as he rubbed his palm along Buttermilk’s mane. “Rapid movements like that can scare the horse. You wouldn’t want her to crap on your new riding boots, would you?” He was smiling that damn cute dimpled grin that made me want to sigh.

But I held my ground, narrowing my eyes at his words. “You tried to hold my hand. I told you, friends helping each other with this wedding.”

He shook his head then smiled at the horse. “She thinks it’s all about her, doesn’t she? Didn’t realize I was just trying to take her hand to pet ye.”

“You don’t have to try and make the horse like you better,” I grumbled.

With his free hand, he reached for mine again, and this time, instead of flinching, I let the magnetic curl of his touch wind through my fingers. He pulled our intertwined hands together and glided them along the horse’s mane, letting the thick locks fall against my palm.

“The first step to riding is to get acquainted with your horse. A good neck scratch will usually get them on your side.” His words were gentle as he moved our hands together against the horse’s mane.

“I always thought a horse would feel different,” I said, watching as the big creature slowly closed her eyes then opened them again.

Jacob let go of my hand, and a cold crept along my fingertips. I felt an itching to have his hand back in mine.

Get a freaking grip, Mads.

“We used to have a few stallions and mares on our property. My sister’s was the only left, but a buyer came for him last week.” His words were pinched, his eyes not meeting mine as he handed me a bristled brush.

“The MacWebleys are no longer horse fans?” I asked, running my hand through Buttermilk’s long mane.

“Something like that.” I wanted to press on what he meant, but as if he realized