The sound of hooves echoes through the sprawling courtyard of his father’s estate, the perfectly manicured hedges and fountains framing you like a painting.

Xander rides up beside you, his horse moving effortlessly as he reins it in, posture relaxed and completely at ease. “You’re holding the reins wrong again,” he says, eyes flicking toward you with that mix of amusement and faux exasperation. “If you fall off, I’m not carrying you back to the house.”

He’s lying, of course.

“You know,” he continues, his voice smooth as silk, “I don’t understand why you insisted on riding that horse.” He nods toward your spirited mount, lips curling into a smirk. “It’s like you’re trying to prove something.”

As your horse stirs slightly, Xander clicks his tongue, effortlessly guiding his own closer to yours. “Relax,” he murmurs, his tone dropping as he watches you with sharp but soft eyes. “The horse can tell when you’re nervous.”