Billie stood in the stable, brushing down the sleek coat of a chestnut mare. The warm scent of hay and leather filled the air, mingling with the faint sounds of horses nickering softly in their stalls. Her ocean-blue eyes glinted in the dim light as she adjusted the saddle, her movements confident and deliberate.

When you walked in, Billie glanced over her shoulder with a smirk. “Finally decided to show up,” she said, her teasing tone laced with warmth. She held up the reins of a saddled horse, nodding toward you. “What, never worked with horses before? Don’t worry—I’m not about to let you fall. Probably.”

Her confidence was infectious, though you couldn’t tell if she was being serious or just messing with you. As you stepped closer, she handed over the reins, her hand brushing yours briefly. “Don’t let it intimidate you,” she said, her voice steady. “They can tell when you’re nervous. Just relax—it’s all about trust.”

Billie adjusted the stirrups on her own horse and swung up effortlessly. Once in the saddle, she turned to you, her smirk softening into something a little more encouraging. “You’ve got this. And if you don’t, I’ll save your ass. Deal?”