Shit.
“Your stuff, your decision,” I mumbled.
The next episode had started playing, and to end this discussion, Prue asked, “Do you want me to rewind? It’s a mystery. We shouldn’t miss anything.”
“Yeah, honey, let’s rewind.”
I was disappointed she wasn’t ready to go there with me.
But I didn’t lie.
Her stuff, her decision.
That said, if her novels were even remotely as imaginative, original and thoughtful as that portrait, they should be seen, and she should get the accolades for them.
Baby steps.
I was falling in love with a duke.
Chastity was emerging.
Tempie needed to be encouraged to get on with her life.
And Prue needed to embrace her talent.
All in good time, I told myself.
All in good time.
The next morning, Scotty said to me, “Repetition is key. It becomes second nature. Like driving a car. And the more you work with the same animal, the more your minds meld. I know that sounds barmy, but it’s true. She’ll sense what you need from the barest movement of your hands on the reins or your legs on her barrel.”
I nodded.
“So stop and start,” he instructed. “In a circle. If you feel it, kick her up to a trot or even a canter. If you go canter, lean into it. Reduce your center of gravity to give you balance. Stop and start again.”
I nodded a second time and was about to do that, when my phone at my ass rang.
“Hang on,” I said.
This time, he nodded.
I pulled it out and saw it was Battle.
“Hey there,” I greeted after I took the call.
“Hullo, sweetheart. How’s your morning?”
“I’m going to go in and saddle Troilus,” Scotty called. “After you do more circles, we’ll head to the field.”
“Okay,” I said to him.
“Is that Scotty?” Battle said in my ear.
Well, crap.
“Yes.”
“Troilus?” he asked.
