Free Fool Me Twice by Mandy Hubbard Page A

going,” I say, feeling a little guilty. “I just finished riding, and—”
    “You wore a helmet, right?”
    No matter how far apart we are, I always know where she stands and how much she loves me. Unlike how things are with a certain someone. “Yeah. Always. But I still gotta walk her out, so can you call me later?”
    “Sure, honey. Love you.”
    I nod. “Love you too, Mom. Tell Dad I said hi.”
    Landon’s next to me now, putting the reins over Storm’s neck. He gives me a sympathetic look, one of those Moms—can’t-live-with-them-can’t-live-without-them sort of things.
    “Will do,” she says.
    “Bye.” I lock the screen, and then slide the phone into my pocket.
    “The call is coming from inside the house!” Landon says in a mocking, singsong voice as he crosses the reins over his horse’s withers.
    “That’s not how it works,” I say, as I twirl a few long strands of Zoey’s mane in my fingers.
    He slides his foot into the stirrup and swings onto Storm’s back, and once situated, picks up the reins. “Not how what works?”
    “Quoting movies. It’s gotta be subtle, like something someone would actually say. So that way, if you haven’t seen the movie, you don’t even notice the quote.”
    “You have rules for quoting movies,” he says, more of a statement then a question.
    “Duh. Anyone can randomly spout quotes. Horror movies, Shakespeare, anything. The game is working it into everyday conversation without getting caught. And as far as I’m concerned, horror movies are the only ones worth quoting.”
    It’s not really something I did, a year ago. I guess that’s how we didn’t realize we both loved horror movies. Silly that we watched so many movies neither of us actually liked.
    “You’re serious,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips.
    “Yep. I do it to Bailey all the time. She hardly ever notices.”
    “Well, okay then. I guess I just got a little too excited at the realization I wasn’t going to be stuck watching chick flicks with you all summer.”
    “Definitely not,” I say.
    “Awesome,” he says. Then he clicks his tongue and an instant later, we’re walking toward the trail head, past a big, dried-out shrub. Our horses’ shoes make little clicking noises whenever they kick rocks, trails of dust rising in their wake. Ahead, a magpie sings, then takes flight in a flash of black and white.
    “I seriously needed a break from that arena,” he says. “I swear even my eyeballs have dirt in them.”
    “Mm-hmm,” I say, already a little lost in thought. Because I’m still not sure how this is all going to go, how I can go back to talking casually with him.
    “Summer has a way of feeling longer here, doesn’t it?” He pulls up a bit, and Storm tosses his head in protest as I sidle up beside him. Our knees bump as our horses go two-wide on the trail.
    “I think it’s the heat,” I say, lamely.
    “It’s nice though, right? To wake up every day and know it’ll be just like the last.”
    I narrow my eyes and play with the reins in my hands, two tiny strips of leather that manage to control a thousand-pound horse. Not so different from the feeling of control—or lack thereof—I have over my feelings for him.
    “You don’t find it …” My voice trails off because I’m not sure what word I’m searching for. “Monotonous?”
    “What? Waking up and riding every day? Enjoying the outdoors … and being with you? No. Not at all.”
    All at once, I’m blasted with a strange mix of déjà vu and anger.
    We’ve had this conversation before. He might be genuine about how much he likes this place, but he’s lying about how much he likes me . If he thought I was really so great, he wouldn’t have picked Natalie.
    “I kinda doubt I have much to do with it,” I mumble, but it’s loud enough for him to hear.
    “I’ll admit, being with you makes the summer seem shorter, not longer,” he says, grinning. I catch myself smiling back. Dang he’s irresistible when