Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
I hoped my answer sounded balanced. I didn’t want to blame Betsey, although the truth was that I would have welcomed more kids. The physical side of our relationship had been a slow smolder, years in the making, and sporadic due to our schedules. I would have tried, though, but Betsey had been the crankiest pregnant person on the planet and was reluctant to go through it a second time.
“You did get a winner,” Willow said archly. “Kat says I’m gonna be as good a rider as Mom. Maybe better.”
“If you keep working hard, I’m sure you will be.” I pitched my voice to be encouraging but stopped short of the sort of investment Betsey’s parents had had in her riding and success. I never wanted to be a stage parent. “But you know you don’t have to ride, right? I’d be happy no matter what hobbies you wanted to try.”
“I know. I’ve got the art day camp coming up. And the trail ride with the outdoor club.” Willow’s voice turned far away as she studied the rugged landscape outside the truck windows. “When I’m on a horse, everything feels okay again. Good even.”
“I miss her too.” My voice came out thick and rusty. I missed my best friend—who’d gotten me through my twenties after Mav left town—my parenting partner, my late-night movie buddy, and my sounding board.
“I know,” Willow said softly, only to perk up a moment later as I took the turn for the Lovelorn Ranch. “We’re here.”
Willow bounded out of her seat the moment I parked near the large horse barn and attached indoor riding arena. Her riding instructor, Kat, was waiting near the door for us. Kat was tall and stocky with long dark hair shot through with silver that she wore in a braid.
“Hi, Kat!” Willow greeted her with a hug and then frowned as a girl, likely somewhere between eleven and thirteen, stepped out from behind Kat. “Who’s this?”
“This is Hannah.” Kat gestured at the girl. I’d already guessed who she was because she was a near clone of Maverick in middle school—angular features, light-brown hair, piercing blue eyes. Hints of Faith too, but Faith had always had a primness to her that Hannah lacked. Her hair hung straight and a little messy and her sneakers had hay clinging to the laces. “Hannah lives at the ranch house now. She’s been…shadowing me today,” Kat explained, tone careful. “I told her she could maybe watch your lesson if you said okay.”
“Okay.” Willow was agreeable as ever. One of the things I liked best about my kid was her ability to roll with change. She pointed at Hannah’s T-shirt which advertised some pop band. “I like your shirt.”
“Embellish?” Hannah preened. “I’ve seen them live three times.”
“Wow. Lucky.” Willow sounded jealous but not overly put out. I filed the band name away for birthday and Christmas present ideas. “You wanna meet my horse?”
“Sure.” Hannah’s eyes went wide and eager. The two girls raced off into the stables, leaving Kat and me to follow at a more moderate pace.
“Well, that went decent.” Kat gave an amiable shrug. Like Willow, she had battle-honed adaptability. “I’ll have plenty of one-on-one time for Willow, promise. Hannah just kind of showed up this morning. I haven’t had the heart to send her back to the house yet. She seems captivated by the horses. Gray said she never stopped asking questions when he gave her and Maverick a tour. “
“Her mother is going to be horrified if her kid turns out to be a horse girl.” Despite growing up on the ranch, Faith had no use for horses, rodeos, or cowboys, setting her sights much higher.
“Hannah?” Maverick called from behind us. Kat and I both turned, and Maverick’s eyes narrowed. “Oh. Colt. What are you doing here? Official business? Everything okay?”
“Not official business.” I pointed at my choice of T-shirt and jeans. “I’m in dad mode. Willow takes riding lessons from Kat on Saturdays.”
“Uncle Maverick!” Hannah took that moment to pop her head out of a nearby stall. “Come see Pepperjack.”
“Hi, Pepperjack.” Maverick gave a wary wave. Pepperjack paid all of us no mind. He was a chestnut quarter horse born at this very ranch and was the last of the rodeo horses Betsey and her parents had trained. Willow was experienced and had Pepperjack safely tethered so she could start the process of getting her horse ready to ride. Hannah gazed at Willow’s ease in handling the horse with nothing short of pure hero worship.
“Willow says she can make him do tricks,” Hannah said to Maverick. “They race in real rodeos together.”
“You wanna brush him?” Willow offered archly, clearly loving being the teacher. “Then I gotta get him saddled and warmed up.”
Hannah took Willow’s instructions well, carefully brushing Pepperjack while praising the horse and listening to Willow’s spiel on how to saddle him.