Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Saxon kept his gaze locked on me as he finished the glass of milk in front of him. I had been too tired yesterday after our flight from Dallas, Texas, to Ocala, Florida, to stay up and meet the family for dinner. Instead, I’d taken a shower and gone to sleep.
Although Melanie had told me all about Saxon during our flight. He was her only child, my age. He had been the all-star high school quarterback his senior year and worked with his father, raising and training racehorses here on their five-hundred-acre ranch, even though he had been offered several football scholarships. Kenneth, Melanie’s husband, had been born into a racing family, and Moses Mile Farm had been in his family for over eighty years.
“You left out a few details,” he said to his mother, raising one eyebrow at her, then smirking. When his gaze swung back to me, he asked me, “You ever ride a horse?”
I shook my head.
“But you’re from Texas,” he stated the obvious while looking confused. As if being from Texas meant we all had our own horses and rode them around for transportation.
“And yet I’m not a cowgirl. Go figure,” I replied.
He laughed, and both dimples were out in full force. “I’ve got to get back out there before Dad realizes I snuck inside for a second breakfast. Jo didn’t make this out at the barn kitchen.” He nodded his head toward the back door. “The waffles are delicious, trust me,” he added. “When you’re done, you can head out to the stables. I’ll show you around.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about horses or going out to the stables, but what else was I supposed to do with my day? I simply nodded, and he turned and exited out the door in the far-right corner of the kitchen.
“He grew up on horses. He forgets that there is a life outside racehorses,” she said as she walked over to the kitchen cabinet and began getting me a plate. “We aren’t formal around here for breakfast. Mrs. Jolene, who Saxon has been calling Jo since he could talk, cooks breakfast for the ranch hands early every morning and then comes in to make sure we have a hot breakfast before returning to clean up the workers’ breakfast. Kenneth always eats with the hands. Saxon eats in here the days he has classes, but he’s not taking any classes this summer semester. Which reminds me, we need to talk about college. If you want to attend locally, we need to get you registered for the fall term. Anyway, Mrs. Jolene will always have food to eat in the house. You just come in and make yourself at home.” She paused. “I want you to feel at home here. I truly do.”
“Thank you,” I replied, although I didn’t see that ever happening, but Melanie was trying her best to make it so.
“After breakfast, go on out to the stables and find Saxon. He can give you a tour and then show you some things you can do every day to help out. We all have some chores, and I think that’ll help you feel like a part of the family.”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Working out at the stables would be better than anything you could do inside the house. Besides, I am willing to bet you’re gonna fall in love with horses. Your mama sure loved them. I imagine it’s in your blood.”
My mother had loved horses? How had I never known this?
Melanie had told me how she had grown up with my mother. They’d been best friends all their lives. Dad had never told me we had lived in Ocala, Florida. He never mentioned Melanie or where my mother was from. Whenever I asked him about grandparents, he would tell me they were all dead. I had assumed there was no other family or friends.
“I didn’t know my mother loved horses.”
Melanie’s smile faded, and she looked away. “Well, I can imagine your father wouldn’t have wanted to talk about that much,” she replied, then began talking about the fresh juice options, as if she hadn’t mentioned my mom or dad at all.
When Melanie had arrived to pick me up, she’d been dressed as if she had walked out of a magazine and into the wrong reality. Mrs. Miller frowned at her, as if she’d spoken another language, and asked if she was confused. I had thought the same thing. I couldn’t envision someone in my family knowing anyone who looked like Melanie. My dad hadn’t even been able to show me a picture of my mother, so all I had were the small things he would mention on occasion. I learned not to ask him about her though. Dad wasn’t mean to me, but he had a temper. Talking about my mother always sent him into a drinking spell. I had done everything I could to keep him happy.