An Ex-wife's Guide to Revenge
I step inside and stop short.
Cross is standing near the stalls, his back to me as he watches the horses with a contemplative expression that does not belong on his face. For a moment, the scene is almost peaceful, like something out of a painting, and the dissonance makes my skin crawl.
He turns slowly and tosses something toward me.
I catch it by instinct, the weight solid in my hands. A riding crop. A saddle follows, landing at my feet.
“Come on,” Cross says easily. “I hear you’re a good rider. If you win against me, you get to earn my surprise earlier.”
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