Demon Tamer

Living with Men

It turned out that the stranger who had approached Daisy to run the show was Jack Christman, a man my mom knew from high school. So, after the high pitched “how have you been?”s and the horrific discovery that my mother had actually dated in high school and had a life, I left Jack and Mom to get down to business organizing the show. I wouldn’t even have to do anything for a change, except advertise. But that wouldn’t be too hard considering I seemed to be teaching half the county how to ride anyway.

So, I just forgot about it all. Except for the part where I told my students to come if they wanted me to go easy on them when they rode. It would be fun.

But what was more fun was having Daisy feel like she owed me for helping this guy and, to pay that imaginary debt, she was helping me with my barn chores. It was great! Half the stalls to muck, no buckets to fill, and she even helped get the horses ready for my lessons!

And the best part of all that was that she was at the barn whenever I rode. Which meant that she was there when I fell off. There was a time, a pre-Demon/Buttercup time when I would hate to have someone see me fall off. But now—particularly this morning when Buttercup had given an almighty buck that launched me out of the ring and into the adjacent willow tree—it was great to have someone pick me up off the ground and help me catch the horse.

I was exactly halfway through the five stalls I had to muck out (and Daisy had only finished one) when I heard a car pull up. Assuming it was just Dad come to complain about another person trying to rip him off, I kept shoveling dirty straw into the wheel barrow and, unfortunately, singing along to the radio. And believe me when I say this, I cannot sing. That is not modesty or shyness, it is fact. Dad banned me from singing when I was twelve. So, other than my tolerant best friend, only my family and Sam have ever heard me sing. Ever. And Sam only heard it because I was partially concussed at the time and he played my favorite song for me. Jerk.

Carrie Underwood, Daisy, and I were almost finished the story of two black Cadillacs when I heard someone clearing his throat.

I spun around, manure and hay flying out from my spinning pitchfork, and came face to face with my smirking boyfriend. And my childhood hero.

“Peter!” I cried, dropping the fork.

“Hey, Heather,” He smiled.

Okay, for those of you who have not grown up with a massive poster of Peter Stevens on your bedroom wall, he is an Olympic rider. Correction, the Olympic rider. He and his horse, Bolero, have two gold medals in dressage from the Olympics and tons more from other international competitions. And, as luck would have it, he is also a childhood friend of Sam’s dad. So when I first started dating him, Sam introduced me to Peter without even knowing how big a crush I had for the guy…I mean, how much I idolized him. Peter was the one who told me that Demon was related to another famous dressage horse, The Conductor.

Basically, he is the most awesome guy I have ever met.

But don’t tell Sam that.

I heard a squeal then a crash on the other side of the wall that sounded an awful lot like Daisy dropping her pitchfork and tripping over the wheelbarrow. She also idolized Peter and, unlike me, hadn’t gotten used to the fact that I knew him.