The horse barn was small and held about eight stalls. On one side was a strange area of chicken wire about 60 meters square. He spotted movement within the bushes inside the corral, and saw a strange ostrich-like dark bird stare at him for a moment before disappearing.
"Those are emus," Rose said matter-of-factly, "Dad raises them for eggs and drumsticks. In a good quarter he breaks even. I personally think he just finds them amusing."
She walked up to the big barn doors and pushed one of the open. Kevin pushed the other, and together they walked inside.
The smells of hay and horses, manure and mud, called to something inside Kevin, and he drew in a deep breath appreciatively. Rose glanced at him. "Are you okay?"
"It's just been a long time," he admitted honestly, "I think I rode when I was a kid, but I don't remember much. This all seems familiar, though."
"Well, let me introduce you to our gang." In a small stall near the emu pen was a sturdy silver dapple pony. At the sound of their footfalls, he poked his head over the top of the stall. She stopped to stroke his nose.
"This is Frederick." At Kevin's sidelong glance she went on the defensive. "Hey, I didn't name him. The girl who originally owned him was adamant that his name was Frederick – not Fred or Freddy or anything else. And truth to tell, he only responds to his full name, right boy?" She gave him a final pat and stepped back.
Kevin smiled and leaned over to scratch a particularly itchy spot on its back, and the animal arched almost like a cat. "Frederick hasn't been able to find something to scratch it before, and it's been bothering him." Kevin said absentmindedly, still engrossed in the animal.
Rose laughed. "I think you may have made a friend. How did you know he was itchy?" Kevin shrugged. It had always been like that as far back as he could remember. He could just sense things about animals. When the pony was finally happy, he gave it another rub.
There were two other horses in the barn. Sundial was a palomino mare with a calm demeanor. Mouse was a smaller gelding who appeared slightly nervous.
"Mouse is a rescue horse. He sometimes has problems with strangers." Kevin could sense the anxiety flitting through the animal.
"They locked him in a small dark stall for days on end," Kevin said, "He would like the outside door grill opened if it's possible. And his right rear shank sometimes hurts him in cold weather." He turned to Rose. "If we are taking him out, you might want to wrap that leg."
He turned back to the horse. "Mouse, how do you feel about some riding today?" The horse shook out his mane and shoved his nose towards the man. He laughed, and stroked it under the jaw. "Let's see what we can do."
Rose stood there in wonder. What had seemed an everyday, albeit sexy man, had been transformed into something else, someone beyond ordinary. How in the hell did he know Mouse's fears. Or injuries. Or anything?
When he didn't hear anything behind him, he turned. Rose looked like a statue, frozen in place. But why? He whispered to Mouse, "Should I kiss her?" The horse nosed him in agreement. He stepped in front of her as her eyes stayed glued on his face. He slowly leaned down, looking for any sort of rebuff. Finding none, he finally closed the gap between them.
Her lips were warm and soft, flavored with the faintest bite of coffee. He gently lifted her chin to gain better access to her mouth, sliding his hand to the nape of her neck as he deepened the kiss.
Almost of its own volition, his hand continued down her back until it rested at her waist. After a playful nibble of full bottom lip, he withdrew. And still she stood there.
"Rose? Rose?" She closed her eyes as a shudder ran through her. When she opened them, she was back from wherever she had disappeared. She gave him a lopsided grin.
"Phew, big guy, let me catch my breath." She acted nonchalant, but inside was nothing but chaos.
The amazement she felt watching him interact with her horses was nothing to the maelstrom when he kissed her. Feelings, impressions, a sense of familiarity, a feeling of home all swirling around inside her.
In a vision, or a memory, or some forgotten past life, she had loved this man.