barn and taking her breath away with a kiss. But also thoughts of long, lazy days ending in even longer, not-so-lazy nights.
Thoughts of rings. Of Christmas mornings. Of laughter, and of children’s feet thumping down the hallway.
Yep, I’ve fallen hard, fast, and completely for this woman.
“How do I know if this thing is tight enough?”
I turn my attention away from Zoey’s back jean pockets and to Ella, who is tugging on the girth of the pony I’m helping her saddle. Ella stands on the old log we let kids use as a mounting block, and we’re almost eye to eye.
This morning, Ella has been different. It’s like some of her aloofness and the pretense that she’s a miniature adult has slipped away. A lot of it has to do with my mother, who began working to soften Ella with her soft hugs and effusive nature the night before. But I think more has to do with Zoey.
This morning, I panicked when I couldn’t find Ella in her room. But when I went to wake Zoey and ask for her help, I found the two of them curled up in my old bed. Zoey’s chin was hooked over the top of Ella’s head, and their breathing had almost lined up.
Something about the sight of them together, bare eyelashes fanned over cheeks, light hair spread over pillows, made my gut clench like a fist. Kissing Zoey had been a massive leap forward. But this? The sweetness of this was something else altogether.
And, like the stalker that I am, I took not one, but several photos on my phone. I’m not even the smallest bit sorry.
“It feels too loose still,” Ella says, wiggling the saddle. “But I tightened the strap just like you said.”
“Snowflake is a little bit of a menace.”
As though she understands me, the white pony swings her head and shows me her teeth. I’m glad Ella giggles and doesn’t seem frightened. We usually put younger riders on Snowflake because of her size, but some of the bigger horses have much better temperaments.
“You did great, Ella. When you first tightened it, she probably held her breath, making it seem tight.” I give the saddle a little shove and it slides. “See?”
“Naughty pony,” Ella says, but in a baby voice as she pats Snowflake on the rump.
I can’t help but smile. “This naughty pony would love nothing more than to dump you in the grass and run back to the barn for dinner.” I tighten the cinch strap enough to secure it. “Ready to mount?”
Ella nods, putting her foot in the stirrup and swinging her other leg over like she’s been doing it her whole life. I doubt that’s true, knowing Eleanor. I adjust the length of Ella’s stirrups, something I can teach her later.
Wow. I’m already thinking of laters. Of the future. Of Ella in my life for more than this weekend, for more than the month Eleanor has left her with me.
Ella surveys things from Snowflake’s back, holding tightly to the saddle horn. I gather the reins and hand them to her.
“You’ll want to hold these, and not so much the horn. When you want her to slow down, you can say whoa, and lean your weight back in the saddle. Don’t jerk the reins, but a gentle pull will get the point across. You can use a light touch with your heels and a cluck of your tongue to get her to move forward.”
I’m saying too much, trying to squeeze too many first lessons into one tiny lecture.
“Got it,” Ella says, giving Snowflake a little nudge with her heels. The pony lumbers forward, swinging her head a little, as she walks up beside Zoey’s horse. Okay, then. One thing Ella doesn’t lack is confidence.
I quickly finish saddling Merlin, who’s still been giving Zoey eyes all morning. I trot over to them both. Zoey’s hair is in a tight braid down her back, and I resist the urge to give it a playful tug. I’m trying to play it cool after the kiss last night, but all I want is to drag Zoey off behind a tree and kiss her until we’re both breathless again. She gives me a sly smile that makes me think her mind is in the same place.
“If you’re ready, let’s head out, ladies,” I say.
We start out on a trail that leads through the back fields and the scrubby little trees before the area where we have the active pumpjacks and oil wells. Our ranch