I had to throttle back because of her family, but first chance I get I’m going to show little Ms. Politeness, who’s in charge. That’s another thing, she’s been so spoilt all her life how in the hell is she going to be able to conform to my way of thinking, of doing things? It’s true that both times I’d taken her we hadn’t done much talking except ‘put your leg here, or harder, faster’ and a few grunts and moans, so we were in definite need of some vertical conversation. I watched her as new guests arrived, listened as people offered their apologies for her broken engagement. I knew her so well that it was easy for me to tell that she was more putout by their constant reminders than by the act itself. That was good to know, because although I’d convinced myself that she hadn’t really been in love, that her heart hadn’t really been engaged, there was no real way for me to know that. Halfway through the festivities as I was talking to one of the other ranchers is when I realized what the hell I was doing wrong.
