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“Then you’re gonna be in big trouble.” She slaps her palms together as if I’m about to get a spanking.

“Wildflower,” I groan. “Don’t torture me.”

“See?” Paisley is witnessing this entire exchange. “Put him out of his misery, sis. He’s about to pounce from blood loss to his brain.”

Gemma nods while taking note of my rigid stance that’s ready to strike down any threat to her. “Theory confirmed.”

“Have fun with that!” Her older sister backs away to join Brody and Wren. “Don’t forget about babysitting on Wednesday.”

“Couldn’t if I tried.” And then her focus returns to me.

I blow out a breath through my flared nostrils. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

It’s a manipulative power move that I’m practically begging for. Gemma enjoys pushing my buttons. Some are more sensitive than others. I’m not a therapist, but I’m pretty sure it’s cathartic for both of us.

She relaxes deeper into her seat. “All I did was mention a familiar face. Your barbaric caveman attitude did the rest.”

My glare finds Wyatt bothering three girls by the bleachers. “His name should never leave your lips.”

“That’s a tad harsh. What if we’re talking shit about him?”

“I’d prefer if he doesn’t cross your mind period.”

Gemma narrows her eyes. “It’s hard to forget the night you told him I might have an STD.”

My head hangs in shame. “Haven’t we settled that? I’m terrible at groveling. It’s an unfortunate weakness, but I’m trying to improve.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “You’ve been working really hard.”

“Are you teasing me?”

Her laugh is genuine. “No, I think you deserve a reward. You’ll get it right after you fetch the special buckets.”

“Special buckets?”

“Fleet Farm has them. The closest one is in Oakdale and they close at seven. You better hurry.”

My frayed concentration is still trying to connect the dots. “What’s so special about these buckets?”

“They’re ergonomic.”

“And your horses need that?” The disbelief in my question is warranted.

“Of course,” she insists. “These buckets are made to fit a horse’s head. They’ll be able to eat their grain better without spilling.”

“Do they spill with their current buckets?”

“Hank has a tendency of knocking it off the hook and making a mess. Moe is fine, but he can’t be left out.”

“So, you’re treating them like princesses.”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

I chuckle, not willing to fall into that trap. “Nope. Just wanted to state the obvious.”

“It’s not a secret I take very good care of those important to me. You might get a hint of that later if you quit dawdling.”

“Ergonomic buckets,” I breathe. “What will they think of next?”