“Sweet talking poets get me every time.” I play-swooned into his arms. With a strength that shocked me he swept me off my feet. Literally. “Hoyt! Your shoulder! The therapist told you not to lift heavy things!”
“Darling, you’re light as a raindrop.”
“Goose.” I giggled as he carried me inside.
Ruggerio was greatly displeased with us and showed it with a cold furry shoulder. I’d buy him a leash and harness tomorrow after work. Perhaps he would take right to it. Perhaps he would not. If not then I’d go to plan B and look for a kitten to keep him company. I hated to deprive him of the great outdoors though as he had been an outdoor cat for years. Maybe I could get Mr. Yates to build me a cat patio when he came out to lay a concrete pad in the coop. The pad would help keep predators from digging under the walls to kill Roberto and his ladies as they slept. Who knew there was so much involved in being a good poultry person? Not me!
After a shower I found a clean suit, a demure blue with white pinstripes, that I paired with a soft blue shirt. A crisply ironed lavender tie completed the look.
“Should I wear a hat? I have a few,” I asked Hoyt as he paced the cottage eager to be on his way I assumed. “None as spiffy as yours, or what your brother and his beau will be wearing, but I have a sharp blue bowler that would give me a British gentleman-coming-to-tea look. What do you think?”
“I think you look more than fine without a hat.”
“Hmmm.” I pondered if he were being honest or just eager to get moving. It was close to dinner time. “Okay, I’ll not wear a hat today. Will I get to see some horses and cows.”
That brought a smile to his face. “Sugar, you can even pet a horse if you want.”
Oh I wanted. Isowanted!
Chapter 12
Aubrey
Upon seeing a horse up close and personal I had a few panic-filled moments wondering why I had so wanted to pet one.
They were huge. Some kind man—Gunner the trail boss and his dog whose name I forgot due to the massive beast staring at me as if he wished to feast on me, which was silly because horses don’t eat people, mares eat oats, as the old song goes—assured me that the pinto gelding was a darling who gave children rides every day.
“You don’t have to pet him if you don’t want,” Hoyt said for the tenth or fortieth time.
“Yes, yes I do. You like horses. You rode cows. I want to be part of your world.”
“Sounds like something a mermaid would sing,” Hoyt teased then with infinite care took my hand in his. “Also, just to clarify I rode bulls.”
“Yes, of course.” I knew that. Cows had udders. Bulls had testicles. Silly me. “He has lovely eyes. So big and brown. Like yours, Hoyt.” Gunner coughed to hide a laugh. Hoyt blustered a bit as he eased my hand closer to the horse’s long nose. “I’m trying to be calm. Do I look calm? I read that animals can sensefear so it’s always wise to be collected and—oh his nose is so soft!”
The dog, Remy, his name was I recalled after the nerves dissipated, sniffed at my left hand so I spent a good thirty minutes petting a horse and a dog. At the same time. Both were very good boys.
“Okay, we need to get to the main house before Jesse sends me another text,” Hoyt nudged gently.
With great regret and many thanks to Gunner I let Hoyt lead me from the barn, where a rusted-out pink horse trailer rested against one wall, to the big house. The ranch was vast, the scenery breathtaking. Big strapping men, giddy teens, and cats. Cats. I wondered if any of them had kittens…
“I’m nervous. And my lapel has horse hair on it. I knew I should have brought a pet hair brush! I bought one just for my suits after I brought Ruggerio inside. Oh dear, what will your brother think of me showing up for pasta covered in horse hair. This is a catastrophe!” Hoyt plucked my fingers from picking at the hairs on my lapels, gathered them together, and then pressed kisses to my knuckles. “I haven’t washed my hands yet from petting animals!”
“Sugar, I’ve kissed my share of horses, dogs, and few bulls—the bull kisses were not consensual as the bull rammed his head into my face—and I’m still alive and kicking. No one here is going to worry over some horse hair. Trust me on that. Now, no, hey, look at me. Yeah, there’s them pretty eyes. Jesse and Lucas are going to adore you. Just like I do. No frets okay?”
I got lost in his gaze for a moment. When he dropped a kiss to my lips I could feel the anxiety floating off like dust motes on a summer wind. The sound of windchimes and happy bees moving about in the afternoon warmth slipped into my psyche.
“Hey, so, I hate to interrupt this romantic scene but the garlic bread just went into the oven.”
I jerked at the sound of Jesse’s voice rolling down the stairs to us. Hoyt rolled his eyes, turned his head, and flipped his brother off before kissing me one more time.
“Sorry! I should…we should control our libidos. There are teenagers running around and here we are kissing over a cold-bag holding the salad,” I moaned as I looked up at Jesse on the front porch, the windchimes to his left tinkling merrily.
“Those kids have seen and done way more than a kiss or two. You’re fine. Come on inside and we’ll get your salad dished out.”
Jesse clapped a hand on Hoyt’s broad shoulder after we climbed the steps. He offered me his hand to shake so I did, heartily, and handed over the refrigerated bag that held my salad.
“I added some chopped green pepper to make up for the radish loss,” I said then stepped inside a large, airy old farm house. The place had been lived in and well-loved for many years. My little cottage would fit inside it with ease. “This is a lovely home.”
