She propped her hip against a fencepost and bent to her sketchpad, fingers flying as she tried to capture the essence of his motion. It took three circuits of the paddock before Darkside wore himself out and dropped to a trot, his gait fluid and muscular. She continued to scribble furiously, her memory spilling impressions onto the paper.
“What a spectacular creature!” she muttered under her breath as she stuck the pencil behind her ear and flexed her exhausted fingers. Looking up again, she saw the horse peering at her between the boards of the fence, his ears pricked forward. “Yes, I’m admiring you, buddy, even though you ruined my new blouse.”
Darkside stomped and shook his head with a short, angry squeal.
“Why are you so grouchy? If I were you, I’d be strutting my stuff in front of all the mares. Do you know how lucky you could be getting?”
A bark of laughter came from behind her as one of the grooms overheard her one-sided conversation. She tossed the woman a smiling wink and turned back to her new model. “You know, if you behave, I might wangle you a carrot.”
“I wouldn’t get within biting distance of that devil, if I was you,” the groom said.
“I can toss it to him,” Julia said, stowing her drawing materials in her tote bag. Sharon had shown her where they kept the horse treats, so she headed to the barn to pilfer some.
When she returned, the stallion was still standing by the fence, his large, dark eyes fixed on her. As she came closer, his ears went back and he huffed out a loud breath. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re the big, bad stud who hates everyone.”
She took a quick look around to make sure no one was paying any attention to her before she sidled up to the fence, holding out several pieces of carrot on her flattened palm. She knew she was taking a huge risk, but she wanted to touch this creature from her dreams.
No one yelled at her to stop, so she thrust her hand close enough for Darkside to reach it through the fence. He snorted again and did a threatening drumroll with his hooves. When she didn’t move, his ears flicked forward and he sniffed the air above her palm, his wiry whiskers tickling her skin. She stood still, and he threw up his head.
Julia chuckled softly. “You don’t know whether I’m crazy or dangerous, do you?”
She and the horse stared at each other. Then Darkside arched his neck and delicately lipped the carrots off her open hand, the velvet of his nose soft against her palm. When she reached up to stroke him, he yanked his head back and bolted across the paddock at a full gallop.
Julia looked around again before she pulled her sketchpad out of her tote and climbed up on the fence enclosing Darkside’s paddock. She pretended to be drawing, but she was really keeping an eye on the big animal. She wasn’t stupid enough to put herself in harm’s way a second time without staying alert.
Darkside’s gallop slowed to a trot as he circled back around toward her. She kept her head down and her pencil moving as he pranced closer. He stopped about six feet away, his elegant head high and ears forward.
She kept scribbling as she said, “You’re a big chicken, aren’t you? Afraid of little tiny old me when I just want to see how strong you feel.”
The horse stamped and laid his ears back.
“I have more carrots, but you’re not getting any until you let me touch you.”
He stretched his neck out and shook his head, making his mane whip through the air.
“Fine, be that way.” His nose was getting close to her, and she had a vision of those sharp, young teeth digging into the back of her hand, a hand she needed for her livelihood. “If you bite me, that’s it. I’m done with you.”
She slid the pencil behind her ear and slowly reached into her back pocket for another bit of carrot, hiding it in her right fist. Sandwiching the sketchbook between her chest and her knees, she leaned forward, stretching out her left hand, open palmed and empty.
For a long moment, horse and artist locked eyes before Julia shifted her gaze to the stallion’s ears. As they swiveled forward, she heaved a mental sigh of relief; he didn’t intend to knock her off the fence quite yet.
The horse moved one big front hoof forward, just enough to touch her palm with his nose. She curved her fingers up to tickle under his chin. He jerked his head back, but his ears remained pointed toward her, so she stayed on her perch, her hand outstretched.
This time he took two full steps toward her. She could hear him breathing, and she inhaled the warm tang of the sweat he’d worked up with his exertions. Now her entire body was within striking distance of his teeth.
She kept her voice low and humorous as she said, “If you knock me off the fence and stomp all over me, Paul will say ‘I told you so.’ ”