CHAPTER TWENTY
Dani speared a clump with a pitchfork. She hadn’t mucked stalls in over a year, and the muscles in her arms and shoulders ached. A good thing she’d remembered gloves, or she’d have blisters on her hands. The pitchfork scraped the wheelbarrow. The smell of horse and hay reminded her of being at the stable with Bryce. The memory burned.
Of her riding.
Of the smile on Bryce’s face as he’d watched her.
Of the kiss they’d shared.
Stop thinking about him.
Dani squeezed her eyes closed, trying to force the images from her mind.
It was over.
She opened her eyes.
Over.
She stabbed another clump.
As the horse from the next stall neighed, her boots crunched beneath the mixture of straw and shavings.
“Just be patient, Penny,” Dani said to the sweet chestnut mare. “Your stall
