Sidney pointed to her head and said, “Thanks.”
Boomer tipped an imaginary hat and watched the pair leave, Sidney’s hips swaying back and forth in step with the horse’s long, ambling strides. He stepped back into his cabin, where the scent of his shampoo and Sidney still lingered. He grabbed a short glass and a tall bottle of whiskey and poured himself three fingers. Because he liked the burn as the liquor went down, he poured himself two more.
His first assessment of Sidney had been as spot on as a sniper’s bullet at point blank range. He breathed in deeply as her scent faded away. She smelled…she smelled exactly like trouble.
* * * *
The week passed in a blur of dust and sweat and cold meals eaten way too late and hot coffee drunk way too early. Too much work and not enough Bryan. Sidney had caught glimpses of him in the distance, nailing shingles on the top of one of the cabins, and had been with him and everyone else at mealtime.
Shortly after breakfast, with the sun still low in the sky, the breeze blew with a teasing hint of warmth. The days were warming up fast as summer approached and the white caps on the mountain peaks slowly rolled up.
In the round pen, Sidney worked Thing Two—the sorrel gelding with a blaze down his nose double the width as the other sorrel’s, Thing One.
Though all the horses had progressed well since she’d increased the training to two-a-days, Two was the calmest, so she’d picked him to ride first.
He was saddled and standing at the end of the reins like an old broke kid’s pony. She stepped forward and scratched the base of his neck with her fingernails. Two’s lips quivered as he bobbed his head and rocked side to side to make sure she got the itchiest spots.
“Ready?” Bryan called from behind her.
“Is the Pope Jewish?”
He climbed over the top of the round pen and dropped in on her side, dressed in tan camo cargo shorts, a plain gray T-shirt, his running prosthetic, and an expansive grin. “You’ve got nuthin’ to worry about. You did your homework.”
“Don’t mean I won’t fail the test.” Really, she wasn’t worried. Much.
“One way to find out.”
Crap. Tossing her baseball cap out of the pen so it wouldn’t blow off and spook the horse, she handed Bryan the lunge whip and said, “Remember, this first ride, I’m a passenger. Two is going to look to you for all the cues. Don’t let him stall out. I’m safer if you keep his feet moving.”
“Got it.”
He unclipped the lead from the bosal and backed to the center of the ring.
She gently pulled the horse’s head around and gathered up the reins. Right before she put her foot in the stirrup, she noticed Hank and Mac walking down from the big house. Alby approached from the barn, and Santos rode up on his horse, Taco, and settled his hat back on his head. In the distance, the kitchen screen door slapped and Lottie came out drying her hands on her jeans. Dale materialized from somewhere, she didn’t know where.
“No pressure,” Bryan deadpanned.
She focused on his grin, on his sarcasm, on the complete faith he seemed to have in her abilities, and heaved herself up. She didn’t throw her leg over at first; she kept Two’s head turned toward her while she slapped at the saddle and flopped the stirrup on the other side to make sure he didn’t spook when she swung her leg over. When he relaxed, she stepped down to the ground, praised him, then did it again.
On the third try, she threw her leg over then nodded to Bryan. She kept Two’s head tipped inward while Bryan made Two move his feet. They did several tight circles. When Two didn’t offer to buck, she gave him his head for a few strides, then circled him again.
Soon, they moved up to the trot and then to the canter. When Two became reluctant to move forward, Bryan slapped the end of the whip on the ground and made him speed up.
Twenty minutes later, she and Two were both out of breath, her pulse stampeding in her ears. She climbed off, patted Two on the neck and loosened the girth, unable to keep the cheek-busting grin off her face.
“What the hell, Sid?” Alby called from the sidelines.
“What?”
“We didn’t come here to watch the pony class at the rodeo,” Santos piped in. “No kicking out, no bucking, no crow-hopping.”
“I want my money back.” Alby turned away in mock disgust.
“Sorry, not sorry, boys.” She waved them off. Riding the buck out of a horse was fun until you landed wrong and cracked your spleen, your spine, or your skull.
She turned. Bryan was close. Real close. Block-out-the-sun-and-the-rest-of-the-universe close.
“Holy. Fuuck.” He drew the last word out, his voice low and full of awe. She took it as a compliment.
“You really like that word.”
“It’s pretty universal. It can be a noun, an adverb, an adjective, a verb—transitive, intransitive, and active. It can be used to convey dismay and disbelief, ignorance and incompetence, exasperation and enjoyment, anger and…”
“And?”
“And amazement, to name a few.”
“Wow, were you like the English teacher’s pet or something?”
“My mother was the English teacher everyone dreaded. She made grammar Nazis nervous.” His grin was oversized and infectious.
He reached out and ran a tentative hand down her arm. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
Her pulse stuttered and slowed. “Wait, what?”
“You heard me.”
“I have dinner with you every night.”
“No, you have dinner at the house with everyone else and I happen to be there. Not the same thing.”
“Uh…” Dinner? Like a date? “Uh…” With my supervisor? “Is that a good idea?”
“Best one I’ve had in a while. Right up there with ditching the jockstrap while swimming and kissing you the other night.”
Sidney swallowed hard. Her heart stumbled, and her girly parts heated just thinking about that kiss.
The latch on the pen’s gate dropped with a resounding clang. Two did a quick sidestep and looked behind him.
Bryan leaned down and whispered in her ear, a hint of his minty mouthwash wafting over her. “Think about it.”
Bryan stepped back. Dale reached her first, with Lottie, Mac, and Hank not far behind.
Dale stuck out a hand and Sidney shook it. “Wow. Impressive.”
“Nice job,” Hank said.
Mac stopped beside her husband, her I-told-you-so smile bright on her face.
Dale said, “You impress Richard Hockley like that next week, we may get the string sold before the training is even done.”
“I’ll do my best.” Sidney forced a smile. So much depended on next week. What if the other horses weren’t as easy as Two? What if the man wasn’t impressed, what if she failed, what if her career crashed before she even got it off the ground…what if, what if, what if?
The oxygen levels must have dropped, because her head spun and she took a step to catch her balance.
Bryan waved his hand in front of her face. It was just the two of them in the round pen again. “Where’d you go?”