Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“You yell at Lilah?” Lucy joins the conversation; her voice is low as her eyes stare at her father.
“I don’t yell at her.” He puts his hands on his hips, and I lean back in my chair, knowing this just turned around and bit him in the ass. “She never does what she’s told.”
“Real mature, Emmett.” I shake my head and get up. “Let’s go. You ride Rosy, and I can ride Juliet at the same time.” I hold out my hand for her, and she slips her hand in mine.
“See you two later,” I say to both of them as we walk into the barn.
“Hey, Sammy,” I call out when I see him walking toward us, “we are going to go and ride Rosy and Juliet.”
“Sounds good.” He smiles at us. “I’ll head over there and saddle them for you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him. “I’ll do it with Lucy.”
“You sure?” He picks up his hat and scratches his head. “I don’t mind.”
I look down at Lucy. “We’ve got it, don’t we?”
“We’ve got it,” she agrees with me and smiles at Sammy.
“Have a good night, you two,” he says, walking back toward the other stalls.
“Let’s go,” I say, walking to one of the golf carts they use to go between the two barns. “I’ll come back and get my truck after.”
“Okay,” she replies, getting in beside me as I make my way over to the barn. We work side by side as I show her how to saddle a horse. She listens to every single word I say, so much so that on the second one, she’s giving me instructions, which makes me laugh.
I walk out first with Juliet and then go and get Rosy, putting Lucy on the horse before I get on my own. The sound of truck doors being slammed has us looking back outside. Emmett gets out of his truck while Sammy gets out of mine and then jogs toward the golf cart. They both hold up their hands to say goodbye while Emmett makes his way toward the barn. “I’m coming!” he shouts to us before going into the barn.
“He just wants to make sure I don’t go fast,” Lucy mumbles, making me laugh.
“There is a time and place when you’ll go fast,” I reassure her, “but you have to learn a bit more before you do it.”
“When did you learn how to go fast?” I listen to her question, and the memory of so long ago comes crashing back. It was me winning the horse race that brought me to this moment.
“I started riding horses when I was younger than you,” I say, “but only went fast when I was thirteen.”
“Ugh,” she groans, “that’s like forever.”
All I can do is laugh at her as Emmett comes out of the barn on his horse. His horse is so beautiful. If he’s in the right angle of the sun, his coat looks blue and not black. “Okay, are we going for a ride?”
“Yes,” Lucy says, “finally.”
Emmett and I share a look, and all I can do is shake my head and laugh while he starts leading us onto one of the paths. I ride beside her, just in case Rosy gets a little frisky.
“What are we having for dinner?” Lucy asks when we are headed back to the barn some two hours later.
“What do you feel like having?” Emmett asks her, and she shrugs. “I took out some pork chops and was going to bake them.”
“I can do dinner since you did it the last two nights,” I offer. “I just need to shower, and then I can do it.”
“I can help also,” Lucy adds, “but I have some homework.”
“How about I cook, and you do your homework on the island?” I suggest to her and look over at Emmett. “If that is okay with your dad.”
“It’s fine. I’ll get the horses situated,” he says to us when we get to the barn. He dismounts his horse and then goes over to Lucy and helps her down.
I pet Juliet’s neck and give her a kiss. “See you tomorrow, my girl,” I say as Lucy and I walk into the house.
“How about you get in the shower,” I say, “and I’ll go marinate the pork chops?” I kick off my boots and place them beside Lucy’s.
“Okay, Lilah,” she replies, walking toward her bedroom and bathroom. I head to the kitchen and look out the window above the sink while I wash my hands. It’s been almost a week that I’ve been here, and strangely enough, it feels like I’ve lived here all my life. Like I was made to be in this kitchen. Like I was made to eat with them. I grab the towel hanging on the oven handle to dry my hands before heading to the fridge, taking the chops out before placing them on the counter. The front door opens and slams shut as soon as I place the bowl with the marinated chops back in the fridge.