“Uh, yep.” He was standing alongside a black and white mare that seemed to be getting antsier by the minute.
Jules, not wholly convinced, placed her left foot in the stirrup and effortlessly hoisted herself onto her ginger-coloured mare, settling into the leather saddle. “Because you don’t look sure.”
Matt glanced from her back to the horse, his frown intensifying.
“Matty, mate, you all good?” Matt’s friend and owner of the stables, Jase, held the reins of Matt’s horse, petting her gently along the length of her nose and shushing her in a low tone.
“We don’t have to go, Matt, if you’re worried,” offered Jules. Her own horse, Gingernut, stamped a foot and nodded her head as though she agreed.
Matt scratched the back of his head, his hand colliding with his riding helmet, tipping the brim over his eyes. He righted it. “Ah, bugger it. Jase, gimme a hand, mate?”
Jase laid a hand on horse’s front flank and leant into her, and she stilled. “Good girl, Oreo. There’s a good girl.” Turning to Matt, he said, “Okay, just like what Jules did. Left foot into the stirrup, then throw your leg over.”
Jase snorted at his own joke, one that went over Jules’s head, but was clearly something lewd. Aussies, she thought, laughing to herself. Maybe it was some sort of slang for sex—which she and Matt had not had. Not yet, anyway. He’d been a total gentleman the night before, putting a pause on proceedings at the clothes-still-mostly-on stage of their make-out session.
Jules hoped to cure him of his gentlemanliness later that afternoon. It had been agony sharing a bed with someone she was so attracted to, and she’d woken several times in the night, hyper aware of him next to her.
After one false start, which left Matt hopping about with one foot in a stirrup and one still on the ground, Matt got himself onto Oreo. He blew out a relieved sigh. “It’s a long way to the ground from up here,” he said.
“Then don’t bloody fall off,” teased Jase.
There were three other guests in their party and with Matt finally atop his horse, it was time for the expedition to head out. Jase mounted his horse and took the lead, and one of his employees, Andie, brought up the rear.
Seven horses, and each one named after a cookie, apparently. All the names besides Oreo were unfamiliar to Jules—Gingernut, Kingston, Tim Tam, Monte, Tiny Teddy (who at fifteen hands was the tallest horse), and ANZAC. The horses, clearly well-practised in following the leader, formed a line unprompted as Jase led them into the bushland.
The motion of Gingernut beneath her, that steady familiar plod, calmed Jules in a way she hadn’t experienced for a long time. She tried to recall the last time she’d gone horseback riding, something that had consumed much of her adolescence, but struggled to remember. “Too long,” she said to herself. Even so, she felt right at home. Just like riding a bike. The thought made her smile.
The trail zigzagged between tall and unruly eucalyptus trees, their fragrance almost citrussy and Jules breathed in deep breaths of the clean Australian air. It was warm that day, but not too hot, and she’d heard Jase say they were lucky with the weather. Apparently, the next day would be “a scorcher” with the mercury pushing past a hundred and ten Fahrenheit—too hot for the horses—and they would have had to cancel the ride.
There were magpies somewhere close by; she could hear their warbling. She’d asked Matt about it when they’d had breakfast on his veranda that morning. It was a unique sound and she would forever associate it with Matt’s place.
It’s so beautiful here, Jules thought. It was a rugged kind of beauty that lifted her spirits—everything from the smell of the air, to the unfamiliar wildflowers growing in the scrub, to the sounds of the bushland. She ducked under a low branch and turned around to grin at Matt, who was right behind her. “You doing okay?” she asked.
“Sure, yep,” he replied. It was hardly the reply of an accomplished horseman but seeing how nervous Matt was about the ride made Jules appreciate the thoughtfulness of the gift even more.
Not long after, the party emerged into a grassy clearing and up ahead, Jules could see a single-storey red brick building surrounded by a split-rail fence. Jase led them to the fence, where they dismounted, removed their helmets, and tied up the horses. Jase and Andie walked the line of horses and checked the ties before Jase asked the group to follow him into the first winery of their three-winery tour.
Matt clasped her hand in his as they walked, and she felt a flush of warmth that had nothing to do with the eighty-degree day. “I’m guessing you’ve been here before?” she asked.
“For sure, heaps. Their pinot’s nearly as good as mine.” When she looked at him, he was grinning, those sexy dimples on show. She smiled back and he dipped his head to capture her mouth with a quick kiss. “Don’t tell them I said that, though.”
She haphazardly trailed her fingertips over her chest in opposite directions. “Cross my heart.”
The tasting room was rustic yet beautiful, with a high timber ceiling that met in an apex about thirty feet above them. The polished wooden floorboards were made from some sort of redwood, and three heavy beams crossed the breadth of the room where the ceiling met the brick walls. The bar, also made of redwood, held up a single piece of timber, a slice from what was obviously a large tree, with natural edges and a gleaming finish.
Behind it stood a smiling woman of indeterminate age. “Welcome to Red Ridge,” she said as the group approached the bar. “This is our tasting menu, here.” While Jase and Andie hung back, the rest of them stepped forward and started perusing the wine menu. “We’ve got seven wines on tasting today, and you’re welcome to try them all, or you can skip
