Fall For My Ex's Mafia Father novel Chapter 80

“Sorry,” I say, blinking at him and blushing again. “Um, can you repeat that?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, laughing a little and holding up a hand to help me dismount. “Come on, let’s let Heathcliff get his rest.”

I nod and take Jerome’s hand, swinging my right leg over Heathcliff’s withers and hopping down, my butt sliding against the saddle as I go. Much more elegant a dismount, I think, then the time Kent had helped me down and my butt had slid against him as I’d almost fallen.

Still, I remember, just for a moment, the feeling of Kent’s hands on my waist.

Distracting myself from the thought, I grin up at Jerome. “I think I’m getting better at this,” I say, genuinely proud of myself.

“You’re doing great, Fay,” he says, his eyes lingering on my face a little. Then he clears his throat and looks towards the barn, tugging on Heathcliff’s halter to ask him to walk forward. “We’ll get you racing in no time.”

I walk alongside Jerome, happily chatting with him as we get Heathcliff back into his stall, unsaddled, and ready for his afternoon of peace and quiet.

I have to admit, there is something comforting about being with Jerome. Unlike Kent, I’m never worried about what mood he’s in today or how I’m going to pay the consequences of that mood. And unlike Daniel, there’s…well, there’s a bit of a spark, really.

Daniel’s great, but it’s all books and philosophy and plans for escaping this life. There’s nothing romantic there, not anymore, which…well, which gets a little boring.

Jerome, though? I bite my lip, watching him lift the saddle up onto its spot on the wall, his arms swelling with the effort, a little bit of sweat on his brow.

A cute guy who likes horses and, apparently, likes me too?

Maybe there’s something here after all. Something worth thinking about, at least.

I’m still buzzing with joy as Jerome pulls back onto Kent’s property. Jerome and I talked easily the whole way home, him telling me about his years in the rodeo circuit, and then some other years rustling cattle out West.