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He uses my hand to stroke the horse’s face for about ten minutes. While I’m stroking the horse and calming down, the groom comes over and saddles her. Oh no, I’m so not ready for this.
“Relax,” Timothy breathes into my ear again, like he noticed I got tense. What is he? A horse too?
“It’s too high,” I hiss back. He chuckles under his breath. Asshole.
“If we were at a concert, would you sit on my shoulders?”
I twist to look up at his face in surprise. It’s only inches from mine, and he’s grinning at me again, though he straightens, so his face isn’t so close to me. I study him for a moment, think about it, and shrug.
“I mean, I guess. If I couldn’t see the stage.”
“Okay, well, you’d be about the same height off the ground as on Buttercup’s back. And she’s much more stable than I would be in the middle of a crowd.”
I blow out a breath, tipping my head to the side as I watch his face. Damn him and his stupid logic.
“I suppose,” I sigh, turning back and concentrating on stroking Buttercup’s face. The groom leads the horse into the main stable area from its little stall and points out all the saddle parts.
“Ready?” Timothy waggles his eyebrows at me. I stare at him uncomprehendingly.
“For what?”
He grins, enjoying himself. “To mount her.”
I flush and swallow roughly, my voice only a squeak. “No?”
He laughs, grabbing my waist and spinning me, so I face the horse and stand at her side.
“You’ve got this,” he breathes into my ear, sliding his hands down my arms, over my wrists, and picking mine up, placing them on the saddle. He reaches out and grabs the stirrup.
“Put your foot here.”
I lift my leg, feeling ungainly and like I look stupid. His hands grab my ankle and slide my foot into the stirrup.
“Okay,” he says once I’m frozen in place, looking ridiculous.Feelingridiculous. “Now, you’re going to grip with your hands, put all your weight on your foot in the stirrup, and stand, which will lift you up. Then you throw your leg over the saddle and put your foot in the stirrup on the other side.”
“I can’t,” I moan. Timothy’s hands land on either side of my waist.
“You can,” he counters, his voice low and soothing. “I’m going to help you.”
He helps me, lifting me by the waist as I push upward, and, somehow, I’m sitting on the horse. Really, really high on a horse. Timothy carefully moves to the other side and slides my foot into the stirrup.
“I did it!” I breathe, mainly to myself, wonder coloring my tone.
Timothy’s hands take mine off the saddle, and he gets me to grip the reins as he smiles easily up at me. “You did. Just give me a sec to mount up, and we’ll try walking.”
My stomach clenches. I’m not ready for that.
“Just breathe,” he orders me. I blink down at him. How the hell could he tell I was panicking?
Within thirty seconds, he appears beside me, mounted on an impressive-looking horse. One of the ones that snorted angrily at me when I walked in here. Timothy runs me through the basics of how to make the horse go, stop, and turn, smiling at me.
“She’ll follow Jasper here, so mainly let the reins stay slack, and she’ll be fine.”
Sure enough, once he moves his horse, mine falls into step beside it. We’ve made it out of the stables and along the lane without incident, and I relax, sighing with relief as he grins over at me.
“See, nothing to it.”
“Thank you.”
