The only thing we had was land, and plenty of it. There was usually at least one party a weekend in a pasture or old hay barn. If someone’s parents were out of town, they might move it inside, but that was rare. I didn’t blame them because there was no way in hell I’d let a bunch of drunk classmates inside my house. What if they broke something that couldn’t be fixed?
But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve started getting a little bit jealous that everyone around me is experiencing things I never have. Imean, I’d never even gone to one of those stupid parties or been on a date. Never been kissed, either, but most of my friends had.
I bet Grady had.
Nope. Wasn’t going to think about that. Instead, I headed straight for my dad’s office to grab the list he’d made last night. I could sit around and mope over my lack of a life—love or otherwise—in the privacy of my own bedroom.
Someone called my name as I stepped out with the clipboard tucked beneath my arm. I turned, expecting to find my dad or Bishop, but came face to face with Grady. His bright blue eyes swept over my face, lighting up when he smiled. God, I liked it when he did that. It made me feel all kinds of things I was sure I shouldn’t.
“Whoa, sorry!” Grady said, laughing slightly. “I didn’t scare ya, right?” He gestured behind me. “Sorry, I saw you duck into the office and didn’t know if you knew where your dad was? I’m here with Riley Farrier, but the old men are too busy bullshitting to get the ball rolling.”
I blinked up at him in surprise, suddenly unable to use my voice. He was talking to me like we were old friends when I couldn’t even remember if we’d said anything other than hi to each other our entire lives.
“You good?” he asked, raising a brow.
“Uh, y—yeah,” I stammered. There was a long silence before I continued. “Sorry, I’m being rude. I’m Cleo, Doug’s daughter.”
Grady stared down at my outstretched hand. He only paused for a beat before taking it and smirking. “Oh, I know who you are.”
“You do?”
“Well, we’ve been in the same class since kindergarten, so it’d be pretty rude not to, right?”
His eyes darted down to where I was still clinging to his hand. I could feel the sweat along our palms, so I quickly let goand tucked a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “Right,” I agreed. “Totally rude.”
“Bet you don’t know my name, though.”
The laugh that came out of me was way too loud and not ladylike in any way, shape, or form, but I couldn’t help myself. Was he serious? He was one of the most popular guys at school, and it had nothing to do with the balance in his family’s bank account or the sports he played. He was just one of those people you were drawn to.
“Something funny?” he asked, leaning his shoulder on the wall beside me.
“Well, yeah. Everyone knows who you are,” I said, clutching the clipboard tighter.
He lifted one shoulder. “I don’t really care about what everyone thinks.” Before I could respond, he changed the subject. “What’s that you’re clinging onto for dear life?”
“Oh,” I said, pulling the board free and handing it over. “My dad’s on his way. He thought y’all would be late and had a bit more time, but he wanted me to give you the list of horses y’all will be working on and what they need.” Grady flipped through the papers as I spoke. “Their full history is on there—age, breed, vaccination records, last shoe fitting, and what needs to be done today.”
He nodded. “Damn, this is great. Really helpful stuff.”
I fought the urge to blush under his praise. If it’d been up to Dad, he would’ve just guessed at half the stuff on those pages instead of taking the time to look everything up. It wasn’t because he was lazy; he was just swamped. That’s where I came in. I’d spent hours on the list, color-coding and alphabetizing everyone so nothing was missed. I even drew a little map of the barn and put the names of the horses they’d find in each stall.
“Thanks,” I said, looking down at my feet.
“You did this?”
I nodded. “Yeah, it wasn’t too hard. Just had to go through some files and stuff. Organization and lists are kinda my thing.”
He chuckled. It was so soft I nearly missed it. “I see nothing’s changed since elementary school.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
Grady glanced over the edge of the clipboard. “Yeah, I think it was second grade? Mrs. Evans’ class. You went toe-to-toe with her when she insisted her roll sheet was alphabetical and it wasn’t.”
“Oh god,” I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “I remember that. She called my parents and everything. Told them I was being disrespectful and disruptive in class. It was so embarrassing.”
Mom and Dad knew it wasn’t true. They said I didn’t have a disrespectful bone in my body, and if I was acting that way, then there was a reason. It wasn’t until the principal asked to see the sheet and told her I was, in fact, correct that she relented even a little. I couldn’t be sure, but I was almost positive she graded all my homework harder than the other students in retaliation. To this day, it was the only class I’d ever gotten a B in.
“I didn’t think so,” Grady said earnestly. “I thought it was so cool you stood your ground. Most kids don’t care enough.”
