already a poser for wearing cowboy clothes, and adding bling would make it worse. But although she was outside her comfort zone, she had to admit it . . . her new boots felt
good
. Pointy toes aside, there was something about walking along with her heels doing a little
click-thud
, and the way they made her wiggle more than she normally would. Or maybe that was the jeans. Torie had stuffed her into a pair of stretchy Wranglers that were seemingly imbued with five percent spandex and five percent magic, because that was the only way her butt could possibly look like that.
“When in Wyoming,” she said, and grinned down at Lizzie.
Her daughter stopped dead and grabbed her hand so suddenly that she looked around, wondering what had scared her. It took a moment for her to realize that she was tugging for her mom to lean down.
Shelby squatted. “What is it, baby?”
Lizzie leaned in and kissed her cheek.
• • •
Friday morning dawned gray and drizzly, getting some grumbles from the guests and making Shelby worry that Lizzie’s evening lesson would wind up canceled. By lunchtime, though, the sun broke through in a glorious double rainbow that had to be a sign of good things to come.
At six thirty that evening, with the end-of-the-week barbecue well under way and Tipper and Topper minding the picnic tables down by the lakeshore, Gran pointed at Shelby, who was washing pots. “You’re done for the week. No arguments. It’s lesson time. Stace is waiting for you and Lizzie.”
“I—”
“What did I say about arguments?”
Shelby laughed and held up her sudsy hands in surrender. “Wasn’t going to argue, I swear. I was going to say, ‘Thank you, Gran. You’re the best.’” After a week together, they had fallen into an easy rapport, which pretty much consisted of Gran urging Shelby to take extra time with Lizzie when the schedule permitted, and Shelby pretending that Herman was a member of the staff.
Gran offered her a big smile. “Have fun, the two of you. And don’t forget there’s a bonfire later. Music, drinks, s’mores, the whole nine yards.”
“We’ll see you then,” Shelby assured her.
When she got back to the cabin, she found Lizzie parked in her corner, glued to one of her near-disintegrating
Bridle Club
books. But while it looked like she hadn’t moved since Shelby brought her back after an early dinner, she had changed into her new jeans and boots, and right next to her feet sat her horse-headed helmet and the little plastic bucket filled with brushes and other grooming gear. Everything was carefully labeled with her name, as if being bubblegum pink wasn’t enough of a clue.
“Hey, kiddo. It’s lesson time!”
Lizzie’s head came up, and Shelby saw her daughter’s battened-down excitement as she grabbed the grooming kit and her helmet and came over. They had visited the barn every day that week, but although the webbed stall guard had let Lizzie poke her fingers through to meet Sassy and Peppermint, it wasn’t anything like actually riding them. Shelby thought it had been good, though, giving Lizzie time to get comfortable with the big animals.
Now, though, it was time to take the next step.
As they came up the path to the barn, Stace emerged with a wave, calling, “Hey, Lizzie. Are you ready to ride?” The freckled young woman had her reddish hair braided underneath a blue-and-white baseball cap and was wearing a matching baseball jersey with a running-horse emblem on the chest and her name on the sleeve.
“I thought we were riding, not playing baseball,” Shelby said.
“Riding lesson now, softball league at eight.” Stace grinned. “You should come. We could use a catcher.”
“No, thanks. I’m not great with hand-eye coordination.” Or letting strangers throw things at her. Besides, she was planning on helping out with the bonfire later. It wasn’t officially part of her duties, but she had a feeling that Krista and Gran could use another set
good
. Pointy toes aside, there was something about walking along with her heels doing a little
click-thud
, and the way they made her wiggle more than she normally would. Or maybe that was the jeans. Torie had stuffed her into a pair of stretchy Wranglers that were seemingly imbued with five percent spandex and five percent magic, because that was the only way her butt could possibly look like that.
“When in Wyoming,” she said, and grinned down at Lizzie.
Her daughter stopped dead and grabbed her hand so suddenly that she looked around, wondering what had scared her. It took a moment for her to realize that she was tugging for her mom to lean down.
Shelby squatted. “What is it, baby?”
Lizzie leaned in and kissed her cheek.
• • •
Friday morning dawned gray and drizzly, getting some grumbles from the guests and making Shelby worry that Lizzie’s evening lesson would wind up canceled. By lunchtime, though, the sun broke through in a glorious double rainbow that had to be a sign of good things to come.
At six thirty that evening, with the end-of-the-week barbecue well under way and Tipper and Topper minding the picnic tables down by the lakeshore, Gran pointed at Shelby, who was washing pots. “You’re done for the week. No arguments. It’s lesson time. Stace is waiting for you and Lizzie.”
“I—”
“What did I say about arguments?”
Shelby laughed and held up her sudsy hands in surrender. “Wasn’t going to argue, I swear. I was going to say, ‘Thank you, Gran. You’re the best.’” After a week together, they had fallen into an easy rapport, which pretty much consisted of Gran urging Shelby to take extra time with Lizzie when the schedule permitted, and Shelby pretending that Herman was a member of the staff.
Gran offered her a big smile. “Have fun, the two of you. And don’t forget there’s a bonfire later. Music, drinks, s’mores, the whole nine yards.”
“We’ll see you then,” Shelby assured her.
When she got back to the cabin, she found Lizzie parked in her corner, glued to one of her near-disintegrating
Bridle Club
books. But while it looked like she hadn’t moved since Shelby brought her back after an early dinner, she had changed into her new jeans and boots, and right next to her feet sat her horse-headed helmet and the little plastic bucket filled with brushes and other grooming gear. Everything was carefully labeled with her name, as if being bubblegum pink wasn’t enough of a clue.
“Hey, kiddo. It’s lesson time!”
Lizzie’s head came up, and Shelby saw her daughter’s battened-down excitement as she grabbed the grooming kit and her helmet and came over. They had visited the barn every day that week, but although the webbed stall guard had let Lizzie poke her fingers through to meet Sassy and Peppermint, it wasn’t anything like actually riding them. Shelby thought it had been good, though, giving Lizzie time to get comfortable with the big animals.
Now, though, it was time to take the next step.
As they came up the path to the barn, Stace emerged with a wave, calling, “Hey, Lizzie. Are you ready to ride?” The freckled young woman had her reddish hair braided underneath a blue-and-white baseball cap and was wearing a matching baseball jersey with a running-horse emblem on the chest and her name on the sleeve.
“I thought we were riding, not playing baseball,” Shelby said.
“Riding lesson now, softball league at eight.” Stace grinned. “You should come. We could use a catcher.”
“No, thanks. I’m not great with hand-eye coordination.” Or letting strangers throw things at her. Besides, she was planning on helping out with the bonfire later. It wasn’t officially part of her duties, but she had a feeling that Krista and Gran could use another set
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