I wish I was that lucky.
I think I was seven the last time I was on a horse.
Wendy takes the reins and puts a hand on my back to steady me as I try to climb up as deftly as Brady.
It does not go well.
Just when I think I’m almost there, my foot slips, skidding out from under me as I try to find my balance. My other foot in the stirrup immediately jerks free.
Even Wendy’s flailing can’t save me from falling on my ass.
Right in the big puddle of mud just off to the side, a couple feet away.
And this is good old-fashioned muck, spraying my face and sticking to my side like thick paint.
Brady jumps down to help me up, asking if I’m hurt.
I shake my head.
When I stand up, I’m a sputtering mess of apologies, still trying to sort up from down.
I’m so out of it I barely notice the gate down the gravel road swinging open and a fancy black car pulling in beside Brady’s a few seconds later.
“Damn, Lena, you’re lucky the mud broke your fall. You could’ve gotten banged up pretty good.”
“Lucky, yeah. I’ve had worse. At least it’s not projectile puppy vomit.”
But the smile fades from his face as he lifts me to my feet, and I don’t think it’s just my little accident. He’s looking past me at the vehicle pulling up.
I recognize that face.
That face last showed up right before Nancy Loomer barged into his condo. My blood heats.
Holy hell, if it’s her again, following us all the way out here, I swear I’m not above giving her a nice big mud ball to the face.
Brady doesn’t seem guarded, though. He just flashes me a strained smile as the back door of the car opens and out steps an elegant foot clad in a black heel.
Then comes the rest of one of the most glamorous women I’ve seen in real life. She’s wearing oversize shades and burgundy lipstick deep enough to highlight her face.
Everything about her seems designed to impress.
But as she stares at me, one hand moving to the arm of her sunglasses so she can lift them to her dyed dirty-blond hair, I have the weirdest knot in my belly.
Brady’s hand presses lightly against the small of my back.
Oh no, what is this?
The world starts spinning, even before he speaks.
“Mom,” Brady says as she approaches. “I wasn’t expecting you this early.”
“I can see that,” she says, the curl of a smile touching the corner of her mouth.
“Lena, this is my mother, Kerrigan Pruitt.” He sends me what I think might be a warning glance. “Mom, meet Lena. My fiancée.”
XIV
Three Dog Night
