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Dash leaves,and though him walking away from a conversation, me, or anything he doesn’t want to do shouldn’t feel new, this time, it does. This time, it raises suspicion, because Dash Hunterneversays someone else will be better than he is. Not when it comes to the horses. The man never sleeps to make sure mistakes aren’t made, for God’s sake.
Now why would he leave, when we’re having such a celebratory moment? I can’t believe I almost had hope for us spending the morning together. Instead, he makes me nearly cry saying he’s proud of me (something I’m not sure anyone has told me before) then leaves in a hurry. Did I do something wrong?
The habit to think everyone else is my responsibility runs deep, but I don’t have time for that shit today, and anyway, I’m trying to change that about me. I don’t want to stop caring for people, I like this part of me, but I promised myself I’d stop killing myself trying. I need to be loved for who I am, not what I do, and if Dash doesn’t like me or want to be around me, even though I really like being around him… well, so be it.
I’ll keep telling myself that until I believe it.
I call Georgie like he suggested and hope it’s not too early. Like a lot of horsey people, she’s already up and answers on the second ring. I tell her she’s been recommended, and her brother, Grant, too. She lets out a delightedeekinto the phone and gets back to me a short time later to say this brother of hers is thrilled to come help harness up the Belgians today.
An hour later, I wrap my stiff, frozen fingers around a mug of hot coffee in the stable’s office, waiting for Grant and Georgie to arrive. I’ve got a few more outdoor chores in and could use them to get back to a normal human body temperature before hitting up the barn again. I turned on the plug-in heater, but it’s doing little to cut through the temperature drop today. Maybe Dash was right. Usually, New Mexico sees snow by mid-November, but maybe we’ll get some early.
Just then, a Hummer pickup truck grinds to a halt on the gravel outside. Damn is that thing fancy. I’ve seen a lot of super vehicles around these parts, cowboys sure do like their trucks, but usually, they put them to work all day, wash them up, and show them off at night. But this truck? It’s more the kind you wouldn’t dare put a scratch on.
Georgie steps out of the passenger side followed by a tall, classic Hollywood, but still ruggedly handsome man out of the driver’s side. He’s the older, male version of Georgie who, frankly, is drop-dead gorgeous herself. It can only be her brother, Grant. He’s as pretty as his truck.
I put down my coffee, lamenting that it’s still half full, and step back out into the air. “Hey!” I immediately rush over to Georgie who I can’t believe is technically my employee. Judging by the shiny wealth she just stepped out of, I’m not sure her family needs the money.
I had no idea. Georgie drives a Toyota Yaris Hybrid.
When we finish our hug, she yanks her brother closer by the sleeve of his very, very clean shearling coat to say hello, too. “This is my brother, Grant.”
Grant is even more attractive up close than he was stepping out of the vehicle, and though I like the handsome contours of his face, his clothes are so clean he’s more like the model for them than a cowboy who uses them.
Grant holds out his hand and smiles. A dimple joins the conversation. He has a real charm about him, even if he isn’t my type, I can hardly meet his gaze; he’s so damn glorious.
“Morning. Molly, right?”
“Yes. You can help today with the harnesses and our sleigh?” I try not to say it like I don’t believe it. But I don’t. This guy just doesn’t look like he’s gotten dirty a day in his life.
“I was excited when Georgie called. We haven’t done horse pulling since we were what? I was nineteen and you were sixteen?” he asks his sister.
“Something like that.” Georgie talks to me. “Grant left the state fairs behind to run off and be a horse trainer.”
“Oh, you do that around here?” I ask.
“I spend November and December at home, the rest of the year in Kentucky. Home now for extended vacation and glad to have something fun to do, so thanks for bringing me by. Starlight Canyon gets sleepy when the tourists leave.”
I shrug. “Seems that way.” I usher Georgie and Grant toward the storage barn, and they follow. “I’m hoping to change that a bit. At least for this ranch. The sleigh is my winter tourism project.”
“Great idea,” Grant says. “I’ll book it if it’s up and running before I leave. Been a long time since I’ve sat behind a draft horse.”
We arrive at the barn. “Here she is.”
Georgie gasps. “Damn, Molly! This is spectacular.” She walks over and smooths her hand across the shiny, purple wood. “It’s gorgeous!”
Grant whistles. “That’s a beaut.”
“It wasn’t like this when it came to me. It’s been a lot of hard work, and I’m hoping the harnesses won’t need as much attention as the sleigh itself did.”
Grant sees the harnesses in the corner, heads over to them, and squats, taking a leather strap between his fingers, inspecting it. “Usually you find people tend to their harnesses even better than trailer or sleigh or what have you. Horses can pull all sorts of crappy shit, but they can’t do it for long if their equipment fails.”
He runs his fingers over more of the black leather and all the parts I have no idea how they fit together.
“What’s the verdict?” I ask.
“Yeah, the equipment is in tact,” he says.
Georgie crouches next to him. “Some of these straps haven’t seen much work at all.”
