Jace groans.

“Are you two always like this?” the other twin asks, looking between Jace and me.

“It’s usually worse,” I reply.

“Much worse,” Jace adds, grinning.

A half hour later, I stand in the barn aisle watching Jace saddle Firewood and Black Beauty. I watch in surprise as his fingers nimbly buckle all the leather straps.

“I had no idea you were some sort of expert horseman,” I tell him, impressed.

Jace laughs. “Hardly. I’ve just had a lot of practice with the tack.”

Noticing my puzzled expression, he elaborates. “Claire loves riding, but she can’t get the horses ready by herself yet. I’m usually the one who gets them saddled for her.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“I’m a nice guy.”

I laugh. “I know you are. Sorry I got a little carried away at breakfast. I want your family to like me, not think I’m overly sensitive and argumentative.”

“Are you kidding? They loved you already, and after breakfast, you’re probably their new favorite person. Ordinarily, they’re the only ones who give me shit. They all found it extremely entertaining, if you didn’t notice.”

Jace leads the two horses out of the barn. I follow, coming to a standstill next to the massive animals.

“Okay, put your foot in the stirrup here when I give you a boost,” Jace instructs.

I nod, then am suddenly propelled off the ground into the saddle atop Black Beauty. I shift around in the firm leather as I try to get more comfortable. Jace hands me a pair of smooth reins to guide the horse’s movement and then climbs onto Firewood.

“Squeeze your boots along her side.”

I do as he instructs and lurch forward when the horse begins walking. Jace pulls up Firewood next to me. My horse seems content to keep pace with his, requiring little input from me.

“What do you think?” Jace asks, glancing over at me.

Now that I’m becoming accustomed to the rocking motion, I relax in the saddle and allow Black Beauty to amble along. “I like it,” I answer, smiling.

We ride along in silence for a few minutes, and then Jace speaks. “I’m sorry about how Mike acted earlier. He’s a real brat when he wants to be.”

“It’s fine,” I assure him. “I did crash your family’s time together. I wouldn’t be happy if a stranger showed up at my house.”

“We’ve always butted heads. We’re pretty similar, like you already pointed out. And Mike would never admit it, but I think it’s also his way of protecting me. He visited campus last spring and saw some of the craziness first-hand. Now that I’m about to enter the draft, he knows it’s about to get even worse.”

“What do you mean, you’re about to enter the draft?” I ask.

Jace looks over at me, his eyebrows raised. “College players are eligible for the draft after their junior year. This is my last year at Lincoln.”