He nodded.
“Okay then. Don’t report to HR what I’m about to say, but take your clothes off, Donald.”
His head jerked up, eyes bulging like a cartoon character.
“Just the top layer,” I amended. “The chaps and vest. There’s not much we can do for your boots unless we can find a mud puddle, but”—I plucked the hat off his head and tore the tag before replacing the Stetson—“I think we can make you presentable.”
“Thank you.” His gaze didn’t quite meet mine, but it never did. Eye contact made him uncomfortable, which was one of the reasons he liked working with numbers so much. They didn’t expect anything social from him.
Scout whimpered and pushed the top of his head against my palm. “Don’t worry, pal. You’re still my favorite cowboy.”
“Speaking of, I overheard Mr. Thomas tell everyone to follow him to the barn so he could introduce them to the horses they’ll be partnered with.”
Sure enough, a line of people moved off toward the barn behind the modest farmhouse. “Why didn’t you join them?”
His neck reddened. “I could see as soon as I pulled up that Tonya had used me as the butt of one of her jokes. I’m going to make a fool of myself enough this weekend. I really don’t need any help from her.”
I grabbed a bandana from my back pocket and twirled it into a straight line before tucking it under the hair at my neck and securing it in a knot at my brow. “We’re all out of our comfort zones here, Donald. I promise not to laugh at you—”
His pale eyebrows rose.
I smirked before adding, “Anymore. If you make the same promise to me.”
“Deal.”
We didn’t shake on it, because Donald disliked physical touch as much as eye contact, but he did walk beside me to the barn. Scout trotted along on my other side. It appeared my canine love was reciprocated.
As we entered the barn, a series of familiar thoughts popped into my head as they always did in new situations and places. Would I be the only person of color? How would I be received?
The city catered for and even nurtured diversity to some extent. It wasn’t uncommon to hear another language spoken while commuting on public transportation, and smells from ethnic restaurants wafted on street corners. The farther from the city’s center, the more whitewashed our nation seemed to be. City and country cultures differed, and some good old boys weren’t used to interacting with a woman producing more melanin than they were.
I pushed my lips up in a friendly smile, prepared to put any preconceived notions to rest. After all, I was an individual, the same as they were. We all had a backstory. Usually one with more similarities than first thought at a single glance.
A tall man with broad shoulders stopped at the first stall. The seams of his western shirt, which met at a point between his shoulder blades, pulled taut with his movements, the brim of his black cowboy hat dipping to touch his collar.
The horse in the stall whinnied and put its dark head over the stall door. A white patch of hair in the shape of a diamond shone between intelligent eyes. I’d been afraid of the idea of horses. No one had ever told me they were so majestic in real life.
“This is Domino.” The cowboy’s voice drifted back to me in a deep drawl like rich molasses on a lazy summer day. “He’s a nine-year-old gelding with the manners of a true gentleman. If you haven’t ridden before or have any fears about this week, Domino will treat you with care.”
Pride sealed my coworkers’ lips. Though I doubted many, if any, of us had experience on horseback, nobody wanted to admit to being afraid. Scout’s wet nose touched my palm. Yeah, I got it. Pride went before a fall. In this case, probably literally.
I stepped forward and pushed my way to stand in front of Domino. Long lashes curved over his jet-black, soulful eyes—eyes that said I could trust him to take care of me this week. I held my hand out flat under his nose so he could sniff me. Worked with dogs, so maybe it worked with horses? The hairs on his muzzle tickled as his nostrils flared over my palm.
The cowboy next to me shifted as he reached a gloved hand into his pocket and extracted a small square, dropping the sugar cube into the center of my hand.
“Now y’all will be the best of friends.”
Domino’s upper lip snuffled my palm and scooped the sugar cube into his mouth. I laughed at the feel of it—a little tickly and wet—and reached up to stroke his long face. His hair was softer than I’d imagined, and the warmth from his body imbued me with a confidence I hadn’t thought I’d feel when Jayden had announced the dude ranch as the retreat center.
I turned toward the cowboy, a huge smile tugging at my cheeks.
Eyes the color of onyx met mine. Strong and unyielding as the stone but shades warmer, they widened slightly at the sight of me.
Yeah. I felt that same widening as well.
John Wayne, Gary Cooper, and Sam Elliot had all forewarned me of the charms of a man in a Stetson. But they hadn’t prepared me for aBlackman sporting the curved brim. The only actors of color in a western I could recall seeing were Danny Glover, Morgan Freeman, and Denzel Washington, but they’d taken on those roles later in their careers and were cast as supporting characters.
The cowboy before me radiated the persona of a leading hero. Strong bones structured the man’s face. Long hours spent under the unforgiving sun added a depth of character to his features I didn’t often see within San Diego county lines.
