The Matchmaker Horses[On hold] [Kind of]

Chapter 3

Dear readers,

Once again thank you all for following me to the next chapter. I'll try not to disappoint you guys.

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"Calm down, Tori. Jeez, it's still JUST a horse riding lesson. No need to get so worked up," Beatrice muttered as she went through my wardrobe.

It was an hour before my horse riding lesson, and it was as plain as day that I was freaking out.

"I can't calm down!" I replied to Beatrice as I sat on my bed trying not to jump up and down in excitement. "Don't you understand? This is my first horse riding lesson ever! I've never even touched a horse before! And you know that I'm an..."

"...animal lover and your crazy obsession is part of who you are. Yes, I know Tori. You've said that, like, a hundred times!" Beatrice commented, looking slightly peeved.

Without making any further comment, she finally grabbed an outfit and held it out for me to see.

"What do you think? Enough to enchant a man?"

I rolled my eyes. Dear, sweet Beatrice seemed to have an idea that the horse riding instructor would be a dashing young cowboy, whose looks and personality would sweep me off my feet.

Once I told her about my wonderous relationship with love *cough, cough*, she was even more determined to change that, starting with me putting on my best appearance for the instructor.

The outfit she had picked consisted of a checked red shirt, accompanied with ripped jeans and brown leather boots.

"Simple, yet in my opinion, cowboyish." I stated. "I'll take it."

Beatrice clapped her petite hands together, then tossed me the clothes. "You better hurry missy, I still have your make-up to do."

I groaned. There's another thing I hate, make-up. The idea of putting chemicals and cosmetics on one's face disgusted me.

If one is said to be beautiful, it should be judged by the person's natural beauty, not by applying make-up.

But, like a good little dog, I did what Beatrice told me (I know, I'm just such a good friend right?) and allowed her to apply a slight layer of make-up on.

Beatrice she looked me up and down. "Not bad, not bad at all."

Bidding her a goodbye, I then headed towards the stable.

The first word that popped into my head when I saw the stable was not "ew" because of the smell, that I could stand, but was "wow". It's true! Let me say why.

First off, it was huge. Like anything in this school wasn't. There were large paddocks in front of the stable, and a forest behind. Horses grazed peacefully in the paddocks, ranging from spotted ones to plain and common brown ones.

Think of the stables as a log house, except much, much bigger. Now minus the stuffed moose head hanging on the front door and the fur coats lining the roof (if you're thinking about that), and there you go, one nice Mayford stable.

I was still staring at the stable (wait, scratch that, this was a horse farm!), and didn't notice I wasn't alone until a British accented voice called out," Well, 'ello there!"

I whipped around to see a white haired man striding towards me. He wore a a blue polo shirt and baggy blue jeans, and smiled with his mouth wide open. I'd say he was around his late fifties, but one can never be too sure.