The Tourist Attraction (Moose Springs, Alaska #1)(35)



Stuck at the front, Riley tried to yell back what to do, but the trail was too tight to let her get there to help them. An aggressively bucking horse butt was not as picturesque as one standing in line or grazing in a meadow. Mugs snorted with surprise as he caught a tail beneath the chin, startled to the right, and ended wedged between two trees, Zoey clinging to the saddle horn.

Backing himself out from in between the trees, Mugs ignored Zoey’s attempts to help by tugging on the reins. Zoey realized a moment later than her horse that they were pointed with his nose back to the barn.

Mugs was done with this foolishness. With a derisive snort to the rest of the group, he started back up the trail.

“We’re going the wrong way.”

Mugs ignored her.

She tried to turn his nose, but he tensed his neck and ignored that too.

“Riley, I need some help here,” she called out, waving frantically, but the teenager was too busy trying to contain the screaming situation, the bucking situation, and the drinking husband situation. The poor girl looked like she wanted to scream or drink too, up until all of them disappeared because Mugs topped the hill and was resolutely headed down the other side.

Pulling on the reins, stuffing her nubs into his sides, verbally appealing to his better nature…none of it worked. There was nothing Zoey could do. The horse was determined on going back to the barn, and her options were to bail from a moving equine vehicle or just let this play out.

“Okay, what do I do? What do I do?” Frantic, Zoey looked around at a much more peaceful but far more frightening expanse of wilderness.

“I’m not calling Lana for help. One, my phone doesn’t work, and two, I have my pride. So we’re going to turn around. I’m sorry if this hurts your mouth, but I have no choice. I’m not getting lost a second time in two days.” Stuffing her feet into the stirrups, Zoey stood up with both hands hauling on the reins as hard as she could. “Mugs, whoa.”

Mugs thought about it. He paused. There totally was a pause. Then a derisive snort and a shake of his head later, he continued on, a trail horse untrailed, a beast of burden now free.

“I’m going to die in Alaska. We’re going to get lost, and my horse is going to eat me to survive.”

Abruptly, they came to a split in the path, and Mugs stopped without warning, pitching Zoey forward onto his neck, saddle horn digging into her stomach.

An equine ear flicked back as if in question. “Oh, now you want my opinion? Now?”

She was not concerned. She was cool, calm, collected. This was all okay. Death by being lost and eaten by the only carnivorous horse in Alaska was okay. Deep, soothing breaths. Deep, soothing—

When her phone rang, Zoey nearly lost her reins in her desperation to answer it. “Hello? Lana, thank goodness.”

“I just heard the best story about you.” Lana’s voice cut in and out among the sounds of voices and music in the background.

“Lana, listen to me. My horse went rogue.”

“What did you say? It’s hard to hear you. I think she’s on her adventure still.”

“My horse went rogue! I think he’s plotting against me. Lana, I need you to teach me how to ride.”

“That’s what the guides are for, love. Besides, those trail horses don’t care you’re up there. They just follow the line.”

“Well, mine’s having an existential crisis and just quit his job. I can’t figure out how to get him turned around.”

“It’ll stop eventually, then hop off and ask for your money back. We’re all at the Tourist Trap. Meet us here when you’re done.” Even with the terrible reception, Zoey could hear Lana cracking up. “Graham says you attacked him.”

“I didn’t! It’s complicated.” Even here, in the middle of the wilderness with nothing but Mugs around, Zoey could feel her face and neck heat up with embarrassment. “There was a misunderstanding.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” His warm, sexy chuckle in the background only made things worse. “Let me talk to her.”

“Graham wants to talk to you.”

“Lana, no. Don’t you dare pass over the—”

“Hey there, Zoey Bear. How’s my favorite ballbuster?”

Distracted by his flirty tone, Zoey failed to get her leg out of the way when Mugs drifted too close to a tree trunk. With a squeak, Zoey hung up the phone, scrambling for the reins.

Lana promptly called her back, but there was no way Zoey was going to answer. If Mugs wanted to scrape her off, Zoey had bigger concerns than a hot diner owner.

Carnivorous or not, she’d rather be lost with the horse than without him.

“This was not on the plan, Mugs. Him, you, any of this.”

Mugs ignored her and continued with the kind of resolve only a twenty-year-old barn-soured trail horse with polka dots could maintain. The trail was more peaceful without her companions, but Zoey’s stomach stayed twisted with nerves until the barn finally came into view in the distance. Mugs saw it too, his flattened ears finally perking up. With renewed enthusiasm, the Appaloosa surged into what might have been a trot at an earlier point in his life but now mostly consisted of several strides of lumbering faster, then a jerky slowing to accommodate his freaked-out passenger.

Then, instead of helpfully returning to stall sixteen, Mugs did what Mugs did best. He walked up to one of the massive rolled bales of hay, stuck his face in muzzle-deep, and he stayed there.

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