“I bet he would,” I muttered, feeling my heart start to slow. “He let me in his box, okay. He’s not so tough, and neither are you. You’re a wimp,” I said, wanting to hurt him. “Why do you let Stanley beat up on you like that? All you have to do is stand up to him once and he wouldn’t hurt you every year.”

Trent flushed bright red, which made his hair stand out even more. Eyes fixed on his horse, he ignored me, and I knew I’d hit a sore spot. Served him right, spoiled brat. As I watched, arrogant, my hip cocked, he fumbled with the bit, needing to hold it with his other hand because of the cast. It was awkward, and the horse didn’t like it, tossing his head and shifting.

Trent still hadn’t said anything, and feeling bad now for the Stanley comment, I edged closer. There was no way he was going to get that bit in. “I’ll get it,” I offered softly, and his jaw clenched.

“I don’t need your help,” he said, then swore when his horse backed up, tossing his head and threatening to bolt. The bit dropped, and Trent scrambled to keep his horse from running back to his stall.

I swooped forward to pick up the bit before his horse stepped on it. “What is your problem?” I crabbed. “I know you can set a bit. Let me do it this time. Unless you want Sta-a-a-an-le-e-e-ey to help you?” I drawled his name, making it girly.

Trent had his hand on his horse’s neck, and the animal calmed, standing with a pleasant posture and ears nicely pricked—looking at me and the bit. “You think you can do it?” he said caustically. “Go ahead and try. Don’t come crying to me if he bites your fingers off.”

I eyed Trent, half expecting him to pinch his own horse to prove I couldn’t do it. I’d bridled my horse every time I went riding. This was my third year here, and though I wasn’t an expert, a good horse would take a bit with no problem.

Cooing and talking to the horse to distract it, I wrangled the bit of metal between his big chomping teeth, quickly sliding the rest up and in place, but it was Trent who dipped under his horse’s head to fasten the strap. He was taller than me, and I dropped back, reins dangling until Trent took them. He was fussing, making sure the mane was untangled and that the straps weren’t twisted. Jeez, I did know how to bridle a horse.

I stood for a moment, not surprised he hadn’t said thank you. Giving up, I took a step back. At least I wasn’t dizzy anymore. “Jasmine is so mad at me,” I said. “I didn’t know she liked you. I’m sorry.”