“Are you kidding?” Brit grins. She’s a petite, dark-haired girl in her early twenties, dressed in a funky vintage knit dress and cowboy boots. “This is so cool, I’m not even going to pretend to be all breezy about it.”
I giggle. “You should have seen me on the first day of filming,” I confide, as Brit and Tegan climb up to sit beside me on the fence. “I was like a little kid loose in the candy store.”
“She’s always been obsessed with movies and Hollywood,” Tegan agrees. “At school, she was always sneaking out of bed late to go watch TV in the common room.”
“So what’s it like?” Brit asks. “Seeing how the magic is made?”
“Good and bad,” I reply. “I never realized how much work went into a single minute of footage. I won’t watch anything the same way again. All of this is just for a few shots,” I nod to where Blake is still walking his horse in slow circles around the paddock. “It’ll be over in the blink of an eye.”
He sees us talking and calls over. “If you ladies have finished gossiping, mind helping me out? I’m guessing Dash doesn’t want me going two miles an hour out on the range.”
“We can try a trot, if you’re up for it,” I call back.
He grimaces. “Do I have a choice?”
“Awww,” Tegan teases him loudly. “You’ve got to suffer for your art, big brother!”
He flips his middle finger. We laugh.
“OK, OK,” I agree. “Let out the reins a little and give her a nudge with your heels.”
Blake follows my instructions, and the old mare breaks into a slow, lumbering trot. He bounces uncomfortably in the saddle.
“This is just painful.” Tegan sounds gleeful, watching him.
I shake my head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so out of place,” I realize. “He’s always the cool one, you know? Totally at ease in every situation.”
It’s part of why I admired him so much. I longed to have that same confidence, be able to walk into a room the way he does, and have everyone on my side.
“Wait a minute, I have to show Dex and Ash.” Tegan lifts her cellphone and starts recording video.
“I’m going to kill you guys,” Blake swears through gritted teeth as he bounces past.
“Find the rhythm,” I call encouragingly. “Just rock right through it.”
I feel bad for him. He’s trying out there, but he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else on earth—and that’s before the camera crew show up tomorrow to immortalize his failure on film. I think hard. “Maybe we should just skip the trotting and go straight to a canter,” I tell him on his next circuit past.
Blake yanks the reins and comes to a stop. “You want me to go faster?”
Tegan and Brit laugh, so I slip down from the fence and walk over to him, out of earshot. “It’s a piece of cake, I promise,” I soothe him, taking the bridle and gently patting the horse’s nose. “It’s even easier than this because you’re not bouncing around. That’s what Dash wants, anyway: you riding fast across the fields.”
“You don’t have to pretend, I know I suck.” Blake looks frustrated. “We may as well call it a day. I’m wasting your time right now, this is never going to happen.”
I look up at him. He hates this. Not the riding part, but not being able to do something. As long as I’ve known him, I’ve never seen Blake struggle. Sure, the audition circuit wore him down, but that was about luck: being in the right place at the right time. But everything else came easy to him. He’s always been able to flash that smile and have the world fall at his feet—until now.
“Wow, you really can’t deal with failure, can you?” I tease.
Blake frowns. “What?”
“This, not being good at something,” I gesture around. “You’ve spent barely an hour sucking, and already you want to quit.”
“I’m not a quitter.” Blake glares at me.
“So go ahead and prove it,” I smile. “Canter.”
A smile starts to play on the corner of his lips. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing here,” he warns me.
“What am I doing?” I give him an innocent grin.
“Reverse psychology, or whatever this is,” Blake declares. “You think you can goad me into trying harder?”
“It’s working, isn’t it?” I smile. “I mean, either that, or you have to live with being a big fat quitter.”
Blake looks pissed for a another moment, then laughs. “You suck,” he tells me, pulling the reins back from me.
“Whatever makes you feel better,” I say, sing-song, sending his horse on with a pat on the rump. “Quitter.”
“Callahans don’t quit,” he informs me, before riding away—this time with a smile on his face.
I watch him go. He looks more natural now. And finally, I see what Dash is going for. The morning sun hits through Blake’s blonde hair, his biceps flex as he holds the reins, and I’m betting there won’t be a woman in the audience who doesn’t imagine herself between those muscular, denim-clad thighs come release day.
My stomach slowly flips over and settles down with a wistful ache.
“…Zoey?”
I turn. “Sorry, what?”
Tegan is on the other side of the fence, and Brit is already heading for the house. “I said, do you want to come up for breakfast.”