I motion toward Quinn’s overalls, a few inches of her tummy exposed on the sides, the tank top beneath riding up. That’s sexy, and I hate myself for taking a second, privatelook, but I can’t help myself. It’s the flash of skin without quite laying my eyes on anything specific that lights me up. But fortunately, with Hector’s ass in my face, it’s easy not toactuallyget aroused. “Overalls,” I grunt, driving the pick into Hector’s hoof, working on getting his hoof trimmed for the new shoe. “Where ya been hidin’ those? That’s the most ranch-friendly thing you’ve worn since you got here.”
She smirks, sifting her fingers through Daisy’s mane while Sadie runs back to the stable to get another brush. “Didn’t know you noticed what I wore,” she comments, her voice husky, almost flirtatious. Then again, I haven’t flirted in years, so what the hell do I know? I’ve been taking private glances at her more and more lately, so it’s probably my guilty, old-man conscience for thinking she’s flirting.
Hector grunts, and I continue cleaning him up as Sadie runs back, hollering something about a great idea.
“Miss Quinn!” she beams, her cheeks rosy from the warm afternoon and all the activity, chestnut curls tamed today in braids. In blue jeans and a hand-me-downWinnie-the-PoohT-shirt she got from Petunia, she points at her favorite mare, and looks between me and Quinn. “You said you couldn’t get on Daisy before ’cause I wasn’t strong enough to help you up, but now my daddy’s here.” She cuts her bright blue eyes to me, and I know what’s coming. “Daddy, Miss Quinn’s never been on a horse before. Help her mount Daisy! Please!”
Beneath the brim of my hat, Hector’s long tail slapping me across the face, I caution a glance at Quinn, and find her cheeks red, eyes on the brush in her hand.
“Oh no, no, no, I’m here to film the ranch and your daddy,” she offers, setting the brush down on Daisy’s spine, backing up toward the place where her camera rests on a tripod behind the fence post. Sadie ducks beneath Daisy and leaps, clinging to Quinn’s legs, nearly knocking her over.
“Oh, please, please, please,” she begs, “it’ll be just one minute. I just want you to get on her. She’s so special. She’s so pretty. Please, Miss Quinn, you have to sit on Daisy just once.” She presses her little chubby palms together, driving them beneath her chin in the most egregious begging I’ve ever witnessed.“Please!”
I could tell my kid not to beg. I could absolutely encourage her to let Miss Quinn off the hook.
But I kinda like the idea of seeing how Quinn looks on a horse. “You gonna spend a few months on a ranch without ever mounting a horse?” I move the steel shoe over the forge, heating it, getting ready to reshoe Hector.
“C’mon!” Sadie moans as I sink the hot shoe into Hector’s hoof and begin nailing it when Quinn’s sharp scream sends my neck craning.
Her hand is over her mouth, eyes wide, finger wagging my way. “You’re hurting him!” she screams, and it takes me a moment to look down at my hands, to what she’s seeing, what she’s pointing at.
In one palm of my hand are a few nails. I look at the nails, and look at her, and the misunderstanding dawns on me. But my bright baby girl catches on even quicker.
Sadie feeds her hand into Quinn’s. “Miss Quinn, them nails don’t hurt Hector. That’s how you get a horseshoe on. They go around the edge of his foot. He don’t feel it.”
“Doesn’t feel it,” I correct, and Sadie mirrors me.
“Yeah, hedoesn’tfeel it.”
“Oh.” Quinn blinks, her cheeks filling with embarrassment as she nods, the end of her ponytail dragging against her bare shoulders, inviting my eyes to her soft, tanned skin. There’s a burning in my groin, one that I ignore as I finish Hector’s shoe.
“C’mon.” I get to my feet, dusting my gloves off. I adjustmy hat and come to stand behind Quinn. “Let’s get you on Daisy. What do you say?”
Her eyes flash to Daisy, pupils expanding as she shoves her hands into her overall pockets. “Oh no, no, that’s okay. I’m here to watch you and?—”
My hands are on her waist, and her words evaporate. With my lips nearly dusting her ear, I say, “On three.”
Sadie counts, clapping her hands in victory. “Swing your leg over when he lifts you,” she encourages before she counts. “One, two…”
“There’s no thingy down!” Quinn squeals as Sadie says, “Three!”
Another squeal and her blonde hair swishes, and my fingers dig into her sides as I hoist her easily, without much effort. Stepping back, Sadie claps and I can’t help but smirk at Quinn Farley lying on top of Daisy, clinging to her mane, eyes wide.
“Okay, I’m up,” she says, voice wobbly, eyes cutting to my daughter. “See, Sadie? I’ve been on Daisy.” Her green eyes are wide then they come to mine, trying to subtextually send me a message without alerting my kid. The message is “Get me down” but I’m not sure Sadie isn’t aware, too. Sadie giggles. “You gotta sit up, Miss Quinn.”
“I can’t, I’ll fall off.”
I tip my hat back and step aside, making sure her camera is getting this. “Nah, you won’t fall off. C’mon now, Miss Quinn, sit on up to get the full effect.”
“There’s no thingy,” she whines.
“Saddle?” Sadie questions.
I can’t help but snort. “Was that the thingy you were refferin’ to?”
Her eyebrows form a thin line as her nostrils flare. “You knew what I meant.”
Sadie jumps in place excitedly. “You don’t need a saddle. That’s how Daddy rides in the rodeo!”
