Page 17 of Stick Around,
“You’re not paying attention.”
“I am!” I protested, heat climbing my neck. “Blanket, saddle, cinchy thing.”
“Girth.” His lips twitched.
I bit my lip to stop myself from making an inappropriate comment. It was a struggle because how does one not immediately have their brain go to something else when the word “girth” is brought up in any context? I certainly couldn’t.
“Ready to try? We can go as far as you’re comfortable with, even if that is just sitting on him for a few minutes.” When I nodded, he positioned Tater Tot next to a mounting block. “Left foot in the stirrup, swing your right leg over, and try not to kick him in the butt on your way up.”
I climbed the block, anxiety buzzing under my skin as I faced the enormous animal. “If I die, tell April she can have my collection of coffee mugs but not my plants. She kills everything.”
Kellan’s hand settled at the small of my back. “You won’t die. I’ve got you.”
Something about those words made my breath catch. I placed my left foot in the stirrup, grabbed the saddle as instructed, and awkwardly hauled myself up, landing with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.
“Holy shit.” I gasped as the ground suddenly seemed miles away, and my body tensed. “We’re so high up. Do you have oxygen masks? Should my ears be popping?”
Kellan laughed, his hand still resting on my leg, steadying me. “Relax your hips. Let them move with him when we start walking.”
“Bold of you to assume I know how to move my hips.” I immediately regretted the choice of words when his eyes darkened.
“I’d be happy to give private lessons on that too.” He cleared his throat and smoothly pivoted back to instructor mode. “Heels down, back straight. There you go.”
Kellan led Tater Tot forward a few steps, and I clung to the saddle horn like I was about to fall to my death. “I’m riding a horse!”
“You are.” As Kellan led us in a slow circle around the arena, I gradually loosened my death grip on the saddle. Tater Tot’s rhythmic movement beneath me became less terrifying and more soothing.
Well, at least for the first few minutes before my inner thighs started to protest.
Tater Tot plodded along steadily, his massive hooves thumping against the arena’s sandy surface. After twentyminutes, my initial terror had transformed into something else entirely—pain. Pure, unadulterated agony in muscles I hadn’t even known existed.
“How are you doing?” Kellan’s voice carried that hint of amusement that told me he knew exactly how I was doing.
“Great,” I lied through gritted teeth. “Are my legs supposed to be slowly separating from my hip sockets? Because that’s what it feels like is happening.”
He patted Tater Tot’s neck. “That means you’re using the right muscles. Think you can go for another five minutes?”
“Five minutes?” I groaned. “My future grandchildren will feel this pain. It’s going to be embedded in my genetic code. But yes, I can survive.”
Kellan guided us through several more circles, occasionally instructing me to sit up straighter or sink my weight into my heels. By the end, I’d managed to navigate Tater Tot in a wobbly figure eight without Kellan holding the lead rope. It was hardly Olympic-level equestrian work, but the sense of accomplishment made me grin like I’d won gold.
“Ready to dismount?” Kellan positioned himself beside Tater Tot, his hands reaching up toward me.
I nodded enthusiastically. “More ready than I’ve ever been for anything in my life.”
“Kick your right foot out of the stirrup, swing your leg over his back, and slide down. I’ll catch you.”
Dismounting went about as gracefully as expected. I swung my leg over, slid down the side of the mountain horse, and my knees buckled the instant my feet hit the ground. Kellan caught me by the elbows, steadying me as my legs trembled like a newborn foal’s.
“Sweet mother of mercy,” I moaned, dramatically staggering to the nearest bench and collapsing onto it. “This is it. This is how I die. Tell my story.”
Kellan handed me a water bottle. “Most people aren’t used to using those muscle groups. You’ll be sore tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I took a long drink. “I’m sore right now. I think my thighs have been through a meat grinder. Is that normal? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, you did pretty well for your first time.” He sat beside me, his knee lightly brushing against mine. “Good posture, you listened to instructions, and you didn’t panic when Tater decided to snort at that fly.”
“Only because I was too busy concentrating on not falling off to notice the dinosaur noises he was making.”
