Thirty minutes later, after Bronco was all dried off, I walked into the tack room to see Marcus in shorts and no shirt looking through some papers on ... clipboard. He glanced at me as I came in to see if I was still soaked. Luckily, I had managed to put a shirt on over my suit, but the shirt was wet anyways. I sat down on a bag of shavings next to him and leaned over him to look at the routines he had written down. The tack room was boiling, with no AC in 98 degree weather. The chisseled trainer. "Ow," she hisses as I make contact with her skin. "Here, hold on," I start to look for the first aid kit. Having found it, I return to kneel down in front of her. Her skin, I notice, is rather soft to the touch and quite warm. I finish putting the band aid on. My fingers, however, seem to have forgotten their manner and linger on her leg. I look up at her. And notice her looking at me with wonder. "I hope it doesn't affect your practice, Miss Petrov," I breathe out. Suddenly everything seemed. More

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