Page 99 of Wildest Dreams

“Stop watching me,” I snap, getting flustered.

“I have to watch you Dixie, because if you fuck up, the horse gets hurt or you do. Ideally,” he smirks as his eyes lift over the top of the horse’s neck, “I don't want the horse hurt,” and I snort a laugh, shaking my head from side to side.

Faffing with the saddle, I step back and look at him. “There? Is that okay?”

“That's perfect,” he praises, and I beam. “Now, the girth. Remember what I said?”

“Not too tight, two fingers under.”

“You got it.”

I drop the girth down off the top of the saddle gently, trying not to hit Betsy. Leaning down slowly, I bend and reach for the girth as I buckle it in and tighten it, worried I am going to pinch her skin.

“Is this tight enough?” I ask.

“I dunno Dixie, is it?”

And I can feel myself getting flustered.

Slipping two fingers under the girth, I can wiggle them.

“Seems okay.”

“That's not good enough, what will happen if when we're riding, the saddle comes loose because you haven't done the girth tight enough? You'll slide off along with the saddle and end up on the floor hurt,” his tone is a little harsh and my cheeks burn.

“Don't be an ass Riggs.”

I stand up, hands on my hips and I throw a dagger glare at him.

“Sorry,” he grumbles then walks around my side, slipping his fingers under the girth and pulling it out. “It's fine,” he nods ashe hands me the bridal off the stable door. “Bit first,” he reminds me, and Betsy's ears are flat to her head.

“What if she bites me?”

“It'll hurt,” he chuckles softly and fear pricks at the nape of my neck.

“Thanks,” I sigh as I lay the cool metal into the palm of my hand as I raise it closer to her mouth, the horse’s lip curls and her mouth opens ever so slightly and that's when I slip it over her tongue and into the corners of her mouth. Betsy rolls her tongue around and I look at Riggs.

“It's normal, imagine having a metal bit put in your mouth and under your tongue,” he smirks

“I would gag.”

“Shit, I better tell Tripp not to tack you up then,” and he elbows me before bursting into laughter.

“Idiot,” I sigh as I pull her ears forward and behind the headrest then pull her fringe out, so she looks all pretty.

“There,” he smiles, “now do the bridal up.”

“Okay bossy,” I sigh as I fiddle with the delicate buckles and tighten them.

“Well done you,” he chimes, and I stand back, admiring my work. “Now,” he passes me the reins, “fix your stirrups.”

“What?” I snap my head to look at him.

“You need to lengthen your stirrups.”

“Back up bud, you missed a step,” as I look back at the lengths of leathers that hang down against her belly.

“I am going to show you now, so, fun fact,” he nudges me out the way as he lifts the saddle flap up and loosens another buckle. “You can measure your stirrup length from your armpit to your fingers, then double it to get the right length, there or there abouts,” he nods, “you want your knee slightly bent, heels dug down.”

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