Page 59 of Never Gonna Happen

Emily laughed. ‘Ten minutes?’

‘There’s a lot you can do in ten minutes. Why are we still talking about this? We’re wasting valuable time.’

Emily thought for a second, then pulled off her T-shirt and undid her shorts. After everything they’d talked about yesterday, it was time to stop being ashamed of her body. She pulled the hairband out of her bun and shook it free.

‘You look like a goddess,’ he whispered, drinking in her nakedness.

‘You’re wearing too many clothes.’

‘As always, that’s easily fixed.’

Emily’s horse was called Tasha, a dappled grey that felt a little more skittish than Rupert, but steady enough. Jamie’s was a beautiful dark bay called Wilbur with a white stripe on his nose and white socks on his hind legs. They took a dusty path through farmland from the riding school to the beach, Emily tuning in to the unfamiliar sounds of tropical birds and the muggy warmth in the air. Having only ridden in a Norfolk winter, it felt wonderfully freeing to wear nothing but leggings and a T-shirt. Emily had taken a riding helmet when it was offered, but Jamie hadn’t bothered.

‘Aren’t we supposed to be part of a group?’ she asked as they rode past a wall covered in delicate pink flowers. She reached out and picked one, inhaling the sweet fragrance.

‘Yeah,’ said Jamie, ‘but I paid extra and asked if we could go off just the two of us. As long as we book through the hotel and they earn their commission, they don’t care.’

‘It’s beautiful here,’ said Emily as they emerged from the path on to the deserted beach. ‘So quiet.’

‘The beaches this side of the island are less busy at this time of day. No sunset.’

‘Still gorgeous, though.’

‘How do you like your horse?’ he asked.

‘She seems lovely,’ said Emily, reaching down to pat her neck. ‘Not as fat as Rupert.’

Jamie laughed. ‘Are you fat-shaming my horse?’

‘No. Yes. Don’t tell him I said anything.’

He pulled alongside her on the sand and reached out to take her hand as they strolled towards the distant headland. The horses didn’t seem to be in any hurry, and neither were they. Emily’s head was still full of an afternoon of snorkelling. They’d taken a boat out to the reef with a small group of French girls who fluttered their eyelashes and giggled at Jamie until Emily gave them a killer death stare and asked them in her most sarcastic French if they were OK.

Once the boat stopped, Jamie and Emily had headed off in a different direction from the girls, spending a blissful hour watching tropical fish and turtles swim around in the rainbow of coral. It was a spectacle Emily had only ever seen on TV, and she couldn’t wait to go again. A storm had come in when they got back, so they’d spent an hour sitting on the balcony with a coffee while the rain lashed down and thunder rumbled. It was Emily’s first experience of a tropical storm, and she couldn’t help but be drawn to the power and drama of it. Within an hour the heavy clouds were gone and the sun was out again, baking the wet landscape and making everything steam.

‘Did you burn today?’ asked Jamie, looking with concern at her pink shoulders.

‘Only a bit,’ said Emily, ‘but I’m OK.’ She’d slapped on tons of factor fifty, but still managed to catch the sun on her shoulders. The cooling evening breeze felt blissful.

‘So,’ said Jamie with a smile. ‘Are you ready to learn to canter?’

Emily smiled nervously. ‘I don’t know. Am I?’

‘Can’t think of anywhere better.’

‘What do I have to do?’

‘Firstly, sit up straight, like when we’re walking, and keep your heels down. Don’t slump or arch your back, and don’t forget to breathe.’

‘OK,’ she said, straightening her back and lowering her heels. She was too nervous to breathe.

‘We’re going to start in a walk, then move into a trot. When you’re nice and comfortable there, you’re going to sit nice and deep in the saddle and give Tasha a squeeze with your heels to take her up into a canter.’

‘Right,’ said Emily, feeling a bit sick.

‘You need to relax, which will feel really unnatural at first. Heels down, back straight, let your hips move with the motion of the horse. It’s like a waltz.’

‘A waltz?’