Daddy's Girl
Page 23
I quickly open my bag and sift through the clothes, trying to find something to wear on a farm. There is one risqué dress, a very short sundress, a pair of white shorts that I wouldn’t be caught dead in, some T-shirts, and finally, a couple of pairs of jeans. I get into one of them and pull on a black T-shirt. Then I run out barefoot.
The house is absolutely deserted as I run through it. A pair of men’s muck boots sit beside the door and I question whether to take them or to go to the barn barefoot. Unfortunately, while I do enjoy the feel of soil between my toes, I won’t feel the same way about horse crap. I run back to my bedroom, get some toilet paper and fill the boots with it, and slip into them. A bit uncomfortable and heavy, but they’ll do.
Wearing them, I stomp out the door. The driveway is a small hill, so I walk down it and turn left as instructed. I get a weird, almost awed look from a boy in the cow barn, but I ignore him. I am Tamara Honeywell, after all.
It takes only a few minutes to reach the horse barns and I’m practically bouncing with excitement. It’s hard to stay in character when I care so much about this part of the job. As soon as I step foot in the barn, I crinkle my nose. When I thought of barns, I typically imagined a well-groomed building, but I never really thought about the smell. Then a horse in one of the stalls in the rows on either side of me neighs, and I smile widely. Oh, yes. That is exactly how imagined it. I walk into it with a heart full of joy. I seem to be the only one in the barn, which means I can be myself.
Some of the pins are empty, but the majority are full of large, healthy horses. Inside the single barn, there are fourteen stalls—seven on either side. Only a few of them are labeled with names—I see Pumpkin, Isadora, and even Devil’s Ride. The animals watch me nervously, all standing in the back of their stalls. Only one, a gorgeous, sleek black stallion with a star on his forehead, comes forth and sticks his head out. I smile and reach forward to rub his snout while he exhales loudly.
“What’s your name then?” I ask, leaning my face on his warm neck. His black mane is not slicked back like the others, as if he hasn’t been groomed in some time. He huffs beneath my gentle fingers.
“Tamara, you took my boots,” Lars shouts through the barn, and the horse’s head shoots up.
“Shh…He’s mad because I stole his boots but it’ll be all right,” I say soothingly.
“Tamara,” I hear Lars call hesitantly behind me.
The horse nudges my shoulder playfully and I turn around with a laugh. Lars is standing behind me with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. My laugh dries up in my throat. “What?”
He closes his mouth. “Can you please come here?” he says quietly.
“Why?”
I see him take a deep breath. “Do you remember what I said about obeying me?”
“Yes.”
“Now is a good time to do that.”
“Fine, but just so you know, I want this horse,” I say firmly.
“Of course, you do,” he mumbles, “but maybe you should select something other than a wild Arabian that spooks easily and doesn’t usually even let people touch him.”
I laugh and reach back to pet the stallion’s long face once more. “He’s doing fine with me.”
“He won’t let you ride him,” he explains and shifts uneasily as if he is hoping I’ll move away from the horse.
“Yes, he will,” I retort confidently, and climbing over the door, jump into his stall.
Lars doesn’t move a muscle as I snuggle up closer to the animal. “He looks like a beast, but he’s just a big softie.”
“He’s never let anyone this close to him,” Lars says in amazement.
I lean against the fence with the horse standing beside me. “Okay, well now he does. What’s his name?”
“His name is Thunder.”
Get The Book Here:
UK: My Book
US: My Book
CAN: My Book
AUS: My Book
CONNECT WITH RIVER
DEAR NEIGHBOR…F**K OFF
will be live on the
6TH JULY 2017.
In the meantime don’t be a stranger
come stalk me on social media.
I love that!
Oh, and before you go…
Want to make a debut author’s whole year?
Swipe to the next page and leave a short review.
Go on be a devil! :-)
riverlaurent1@gmail.com