Chapter 58

**G R A C E**

I open my eyes, and the ground feels like it’s a hundred meters below me. Okay, maybe not that far, but it sure feels like it. The horse beneath me shifts its weight, muscles rippling beneath its glossy coat, and I grip the reins tighter, my knuckles going white. The warm leather digs into my palms, the faint scent of sweat and hay filling my nose. To make matters worse, when I glance to the side, Matt is already on another horse that seems to have materialized out of thin air. He’s holding the reins of both horses like it’s the easiest thing in the world, his posture annoyingly relaxed and confident.

“Here,” he says, stretching his arm out to offer me my taco. The tortilla is slightly charred, steam curling from the warm filling. But my hands are glued to the reins. There’s no way I’m letting go and risking a tumble to my doom.

“I’m good,” I say, my voice shaky, betraying my attempt at nonchalance.

The horse beneath me starts moving—a deliberate, taunting shuffle that feels like an earthquake. My stomach flips, and suddenly tacos are the last thing on my mind. A lump of nausea rises in my throat, and I clench the reins even tighter, praying for the ground to stop its dizzying dance.
Matt clicks his tongue, making a soothing noise, and to my astonishment, the horse calms instantly. Its ears twitch as if responding to some secret language only Matt speaks. It’s one of the most charming things I’ve ever witnessed. The way his hand lightly pats the horse’s neck, his movements calm and assured, radiates a sense of control. Despite myself, I glance at him with a flicker of gratitude. There’s something reassuring about the ease with which he handles the situation—like he’s completely in control of not just the horses, but the entire universe.
“Open up,” he says, holding the taco near my mouth. His tone is casual, like this is a perfectly normal thing to do on horseback.
I hesitate, looking around in embarrassment. The horizon stretches endlessly, the beach alive with the hum of activity. Families laugh in the distance, the occasional shout punctuating the rhythmic crash of the waves. No one’s paying attention to us, but the whole situation feels ridiculous. Still, hunger wins out, and I tentatively lean forward, taking a bite. The moment the flavors hit my tongue, it’s like heaven descends. The savory meat, tender and spiced to perfection, melds with the crisp salsa and a burst of lime. It’s a symphony of tastes that makes the chaos of the morning fade away. Pure bliss.
Matt chuckles, his smile widening. “Is it really that good?”
I blink, realizing my eyes had closed. “What?”
“You sighed. You literally moaned.”
Mortified, I wipe at my mouth, hoping to salvage some dignity. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“See? You can let go of the reins. He’s not going to throw you off.”

Glancing down, I realize I’ve let go of the reins without noticing, and I’m still securely on the horse. Tentatively, I take the taco from Matt’s hand, savoring another bite. The world seems brighter, the ocean bluer, and eating a taco on horseback suddenly feels like the only way I ever want to eat again.
“You really are a weird girl,” Matt says, shaking his head with a smile that’s equal parts amused and fond.

I giggle, feeling oddly light. Matt makes another clicking sound, and both horses start moving slowly. This time, I’m not scared. He’s holding the reins of my horse and his, guiding us with ease. He hands me his taco as well, claiming he’s not hungry, which is fine by me. More tacos for me.

We move a little away from the crowd, the atmosphere shifting. The beach stretches out before us, golden sand meeting the endless blue of the ocean. The sun glints off the waves, scattering shards of light across the water. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore provides a soothing backdrop, and for the first time in what feels like ages, I allow myself to relax. There’s a quiet intimacy in the air as Matt finally breaks the silence.

“Well, at least if we can’t do pizza and wine at midnight, we can do tacos on horseback.” His tone is light, but there’s a hint of something deeper beneath the words.

I know exactly what he’s referring to and immediately try to steer the conversation away. “The tacos are really good,” I say, feigning nonchalance.
“The pizzas were good too. Or so I’ve been told.”

I frown, confused. “What do you mean you were told? You didn’t eat?”

“I couldn’t eat them alone. They were supposed to be shared.” There’s a flicker of hurt in his eyes, but it’s so fleeting I almost convince myself I imagined it.
“So, what did you do with the pizza?” I ask, more to fill the silence than out of genuine curiosity.

“Is that really the point of your concern right now?” His eyebrows arch in a suggestive way that makes me want to throttle him.