Page 93 of The Bodyguard

“Nah,” Jack said. “I’m going to do something better.”

And then, before I could respond, Jack squatted down low—all without the horse ever breaking stride—pushed himself back, and rolled a backward somersault off the horse’s rump, dropping the lead rope as he went, and landing on his feet.

“Jesus Christ!” I shouted, and not in a good way.

Jack bowed deep and low, then turned to me, enjoying my horror, and said, “Been a long time since I did that. I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.”

“No more somersaults!” I said, like I was making a rule.

Jack just looked really pleased with himself. “You’ve got me showing off for you.”

“Don’t show off for me,” I said. “I don’t want you to show off for me.”

But Jack was walking over toward Clipper—who had slowed to a stop as soon as Jack landed and was now looking at us with his long, somber eyelashes.

Jack collected the lead rope and started walking the horse toward me. “Now it’s your turn,” Jack said.

“No, thank you.”

“God, you’re a scaredy cat. How is that possible in your line of work?”

“I don’t know how to ride,” I said.

“That’s the great thing about Clipper,” Jack said. “He does it all for you.”

“I can’t ride a horse,” I said, as Jack kept coming closer. “I can do other things. I can drive a car backward on the freeway. I can rappel off a roof. I can pilot a helicopter.”

Did I normally like a new challenge?

Of course.

But maybe I had enough skills. Or maybe I just didn’t want to embarrass myself any further in front of Jack.

“This should be easy, then,” Jack said.

I shook my head. “I’m good.”

But Jack and the horse were right next to me now. “Just walking,” Jack cajoled. “No tricks. Easy. You’ll love it. All you have to do is sit. And I’ll hold the lead rope.”

I considered the horse, then I considered Jack.

Jack laced his fingers together and bent down to hold his hands like a stirrup. “Grab a big handful of mane, and give me your foot,” he said.

I hesitated.

In a whisper, Jack started going, “Bwok, bwok, bwok.”

I pushed out a sigh and lifted my foot into his hands. “Why is you bwok-ing like a chicken working on me? Why does everything you do work on me?”

I didn’t even have time to worry that I’d confessed too much before Jack was hoisting me up the side of the horse.

“Atta girl,” Jack said, moving his hands to my hips and then pushing my butt as I worked my leg around and got situated. “Not so hard, right?”

I was really glad I’d worn jeans that day.

I tried to sit up straight, like Jack had, but that’s when I realized how ridiculously high up I was. It was like standing on a high dive.

I let myself lie on my belly and hold on around Clipper’s neck.