growing increasingly hard for him. The more successful he was, the more he became public property. He had gone through years of rejection until he’d starred in his breakthrough movie. They had first met on set. Their love story was leaked as part of the promo, and Murder Game was a huge hit.
‘Didn’t he do well?’ the girl said as she approached them, the name ‘Tammy’ emblazoned on a badge on her chest. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen. Her long tanned limbs and strawberry-blonde hair gave her a natural sun-kissed look. With a coy smile, she offered Daniel the lead rein. Sheridan stiffened. It was as if she wasn’t even there.
‘Want to go around again?’ Daniel asked, much to his son’s delight.
As Tammy stepped forward to join them, Sheridan called her back. ‘Are you new? I haven’t seen you here before.’
‘I started last week.’ Tammy flashed Sheridan a smile. ‘If there’s anything I can do for you or your husband, just ask. I’m a huge fan . . .’
Sheridan watched her slide her mobile phone from the back pocket of her jeans. She knew what was coming next – the request for a ‘sneaky selfie’. She could practically read the words poised on Tammy’s lips.
‘We don’t need your help, now or in the future.’ Sheridan’s voice was icy cold, cutting the girl dead in her tracks. ‘And if you value your job, I suggest you remember that.’
The light of excitement left Tammy’s eyes. ‘Oh. I’m sorry, I . . .’
Sheridan waved to her son, who squealed in excitement as Daniel encouraged the pony to break into a jog. ‘Hold on to the saddle!’ she called, lifting her camera and taking another snap.
She paused to give Tammy a withering look, as if to ask what she was still doing there. She was entitled to take such a stance; her family were one of the donors who helped keep this riding school afloat.
‘Sorry,’ Tammy muttered before turning on her heel. She shoved her phone back into her pocket and gave one last, longing look at Daniel before walking away.
Sheridan sighed as she reviewed the photos she had taken. As usual, Leo was looking the wrong way.
‘Everything all right?’ Daniel smiled broadly as he rejoined Sheridan after the trot around the track. ‘I’d forgotten how much I’ve missed this. We should come back here one day, just the two of us. Saddle up.’ His blue eyes burned with sincerity as he spoke.
Sheridan had encouraged Daniel to ride, a tactic to spend time in his company and open him up to more acting roles. Like everything in life that he set his mind on, he had taken to it effortlessly and was a natural in the saddle. These days he preferred motorbikes to horses, but going for a hack would be a good way for them to spend some quality time together.
‘I’d love that.’ Sheridan smiled, but her tone harshened as she turned to her son. ‘Darling, the pictures are ruined. Why do you have to look so goofy all the time?’
‘Steady on, love.’ Daniel frowned. ‘I thought he looked great up there.’
Sheridan responded with a thin smile before offering the pony a sugar lump. ‘See?’ She instructed her son. ‘You offer it on a flat hand – otherwise he might nibble your fingers off.’
Leo’s eyes widened at the knowledge that he was riding a creature who would eat human flesh.
‘By accident, of course,’ Sheridan added hastily. ‘Then he’d just spit them out.’
Daniel’s laugh echoed around the corral.
‘What?’ Sheridan asked, watching him take their son’s feet from the stirrups.
‘I think it’s better if I read the bedtime stories from now on.’ He looked around as he slid Leo from the pony. ‘Where’s the stable hand?’
‘She had stuff to do.’ Sheridan took the pony’s lead rein. ‘Why don’t you strap Leo into the car? I want a quick word with Wendy. I’ll be right back.’
Wendy was the riding school supervisor, and she valued Sheridan’s opinions. Tammy would not be bothering them again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ROZ
The gentle ding-ding of the Luas outside my window signalled that Dublin city was in full Sunday afternoon swing. I didn’t need an alarm clock when the tram bell rang with such unfaltering regularity every day. When I first moved from the countryside, it took time to get used to the cacophony of city life. There were the typical sounds of the drunks staggering home from the pub, and the never-ending stream of traffic and hooting horns. Then there were Dublin’s