"I'm your girl." She straightened in the saddle. "While I'm here."
"Good."
"And you're mine."
I raised an eyebrow.
"While I'm here," she added. Innocent. Completely not innocent.
"Yeah," I said. "That's right."
"Good," she said. "Now tell me I'm a good rider."
"You're an adequate rider."
"Sawyer—"
"You're a very adequate rider."
She pointed at me. "I hate you."
"No you don't." I stepped back from the fence. "Canter. Now."
"We were having a moment?—"
"Moment's over."
"You are genuinely the most?—"
"Daniela."
She turned Bishop toward the far end of the paddock, muttering in Spanish under her breath. I caught my name and something that was definitely not a compliment.
I watched her go.
You get me.
Five weeks until filming.
Not enough time. Not nearly enough.
TEN
Daniela
I could’ve workedevery daylearning how to ride and how to do stunts…spent every night learning how to ride in a very different way.
But Sawyer insisted on taking breaks.
And today’s break, much to my relief, was on horseback.
Redbird and Bishop moved at an easy walk down the trail, single file where the cedar pressed in close, side by side where the land opened up. Sawyer rode ahead when he needed to and dropped back when he didn't, and I'd stopped trying to track the logic of it and just followed his lead.
I was learning to just…roll with things. Let go of the chokehold I’d kept on my life since I stopped being Daniela and started being Daphne.
It feltgood.
The Hill Country in February was cold and pale and beautiful in a way that snuck up on you. Limestone outcroppings pushing up through the dry grass. Live oaks still holding their leaves, dark and dusty. The sky a particular shade of blue you only got in winter, thin and clear all the way to the edges.
