you can stand on your own?â
âI guess thereâs only one way to find out.â And she slipped out of his hold.
âI want you to rest this afternoon,â he told her.
Regretfully, she moved away. Her legs were a little shaky, but she wasnât about to admit it. âI donât feel too bad. After some lunch and a couple of ibuprofen, Iâll be ready for the afternoon.â
âYou canât do it all in one day, Cyndi. Your body isnât used to riding, and that bottom of yours is going to be sore as it is. So go up to the house and take a long soak in the tub, then rest. Iâll take care of Daisy.â
He started off with her horse, but she went after him. âI know what my body can and can not do, and I want to ride this afternoon.â
Irritation flashed across his face. âYou donât always get your way, Ms. Reynolds. Not around here anyway. You may want to ride, but I wonât be there to help you. As I told you before, I have a ranch to run. Weâll continue instruction tomorrow morning.â His stern gaze held hers a moment, then he turned and led Daisy to the barn.
Cynthia kicked at some loose dirt. Who did hethink he was, telling her she couldnât ride? Well, she wasnât going to let him get away with ditching her again. She worked hard not to limp as she made her way toward the house. She would be back, just as soon as she rested.
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The long, hot bath had done nothing to ease her anger. She stepped into a pair of sweatpants and groaned, feeling her sore, tired muscles less tense, but still painful. After pulling on a shirt, she wiped the moisture off the mirror, then brushed her damp hair into a ponytail. She then added moisturizer to her face, gloss to her dry lips, and noticed that her nose was sunburned.
No wonder Patrick had sent her away. She thought back to her lesson and how heâd stood in the corral, directing, encouraging her all morning. He never took a break, drank only an occasional bottle of water, and heâd been in the sun as long as she had.
So what had happened? Why did she feel as if sheâd been dismissed and sent up to her room?
âWell, I canât waste time trying to figure you out, Mr. Tanner. If I canât ride, I have plenty of other things to do.â
Cynthia gathered her dirty clothes and returned to her room. First thing, she picked up her cellphone and made a call to her agent to find out the status of the movie. She got good news. The director of Cheyenne was interested in having her read for the female lead. Cynthia needed to be back in L.A. in a week to audition for the part.
With renewed energy, Cynthia turned on the portable cassette player and started Dr. Richieâs exercise routine. She knew the director was going to be looking at more than just her riding and acting ability. She had to look good in jeans, too.
Halfway through her high kicks, there was a knock on the door. Breathing hard, Cynthia went to see who it was, hoping Patrick was on the other side so she could slam the door in his face. But it was Nora, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that read Tanner Ranch.
âNora, I didnât know youâd be here. Do you need help with dinner?â
She shook her head. âIâm sorry to disturb you, but we need your help with something else. In ten minutes weâre going to be invaded by about a dozen kids.â
âOh, really?â
âTwice a month Patrick and I work with boys and girls from a shelter in Portland. Theyâve had it pretty rough and they really need this time with the horses. I hate to ask, but how do you feel abouthelping out? Itâd be just putting them on horses and walking them around the corral.â
âSounds like something I can handle,â Cynthia said, realizing now why Patrick couldnât spend time with her this afternoon. âIâll be down as soon as I can.â
âI knew I could count on you.â Nora