A frown had his brow puckering. “You’re not going to ride if it snows, are you?”
“If the mood takes me.” The weather wouldn’t stop me from coming to the stables. I wouldn’t ride in bad conditions, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t hang out with the horses. I’d missed too much of them already. I wasn’t going to miss anymore.
His frown darkened. “If you want to go riding, we’ll ride together. Okay?”
“How will that work?” I countered, but there was no heat to my words. “Do I make an appointment with you three weeks before?”
Brennan pulled a face. “Well, no.”
“Bagpipes will be with me, won’t he?”
“Yeah, but not on the trail. He can’t ride.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You might not be.” He shook his head. “No, give me a day’s notice. I’ll figure something out. Or pick a day every week, and I’ll make sure I have free time.”
I bit my lip, and let my eyes drift down to the pommel. “You don’t have to do that, Brennan.”
“I know I don’t,” was his gruff reply.
Neither of us said anything after that, letting the silence fall between us. It was surprisingly comfortable. Just the two of us, the horses, the quiet, and the trail.
It shouldn’t have felt intimate, but it did. We were alone, together, and it felt like we were advancing. Taking steps forward that would bring us closer, not just figuratively either.
I wasn’t sure if I’d ever feel comfortable asking him for things, because I didn’t want to be a burden. Maybe that would change when we were ready for kids. For myself, I couldn’t ask him to drop everything to go horseback riding, but for them? I would in a heartbeat.
That he was willing to make time for me meant more than he probably knew.
When we were on our way back, he asked, “Camille?”
I hummed. “Yes?”
“You know I’ll keep you safe, don’t you?”
My mouth curved into a smile. “I do, Brennan, I do.”