Page 63 of Savage Obsession

Lily gasps when she sees him. “Oh,” she exclaims. “Just… oh.”

My thoughts exactly. I treat True to a handful of mints and pat his nose while he snorts into my palm, his way of greeting me. “Did you miss me, big fella? It’s good to see you.”

The stallion paws the ground and nudges me hard, demanding more mints. Lily has the good sense to step back.

“Is he fierce?” she wonders.

“He’s not vicious, but he can be tetchy. Doesn’t like strangers much, so you’d need to spend some time getting to know him. With horses, you need to be respectful, let them come to you. Isn’t that right, José?”

“Aye, lad. So I reckon. You’re back, then?”

“I am. This is my daughter, Lily. She wants to learn to ride.”

José nods. “She’ll have to start with mucking out.”

“Fair enough. Will you teach her?”

“I suppose I can, if she wants to learn. It’s hard work, mind.”

“What did he say? Can I ride the horses?”

My conversation with José was in Spanish, a language Lily has yet to learn.

“He said ‘yes’, but you have to work around the stables first.”

“Oh, I will. Please.” Lily almost claps her hands, then realises she’s supposed to not startle the horses.

José flattens his lips. “Aye, well then. She can start by helping me get this lot back inside.”

I translate for her.

“What do I need to do?” Lily is already climbing over the fence.

José produces another leading rein from his pocket. With a series of gestures and monosyllabic instructions, he explains that she needs to clip it onto the mare’s bridle, then lead her back. “The little ’un will just follow behind.”

I watch from the fence when Lily falls into step alongside the elderly groom, the very picture of delighted preteen. Gone is the sullen moodiness and the preoccupation with expensive clothes and toys.

“She seems happy,” Julia murmurs from beside me. “I can’t remember seeing her so enthusiastic about anything.”

“Horses can do that. Come on, I’ll show you the house.”

Aleksy drives us the rest of the way and deposits us at the foot of the short flight of steps up onto the wraparound porch. Sophia Hernandez awaits us, arms folded, peering down her long nose as we step out of the limo.

“Who’s that?” Julia whispers.

“Sophia. The housekeeper.”

“Is she always so dour-looking?”

I consider for a moment. “Yes, I think so. She hasn’t worked for me very long.”

“Do you still need a housekeeper? Now that I’m here?”

“It’s a big place. She cooks as well.”

“I can cook,” Julia points out, which is news to me.

“If you don’t get on with her, we’ll get someone else.” My heart sinks at the prospect of starting the interview process all over again, but I’ll do what I can to help Julia to feel at home.

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