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Jackson bit back a groan. “Yeah, fine. Where is Brand?”
“Finishing up breakfast with Hugo and our folks. Mom’s making pulled pork sandwiches for lunch to officially welcome Wyatt to the ranch, so plan on taking your break at twelve thirty.”
Rose Woods could cook the hell out of a pork shoulder, and she’d made the same lunch for Jackson the week he was first hired. “Okay.” He turned his attention to Wyatt, who looked like he was trying to hide a smile or a smirk, Jackson wasn’t sure. “Come on, greenhorn. Let’s see if we can get your ass up on a horse the right way today.”
“I look forward to the challenge,” Wyatt replied, narrowing his eyes slightly.
Yeah, the kid was trouble in jeans and an oversized hat.
“Have fun,” Rem called out as Jackson walked down the barn.
Jackson resisted the urge to flip him off. Rem wasn’t technically his boss the way Brand was, but Rem was a Woods and his name was on the ranch. Better to resist his worst urges and play nice, even though the last thing he wanted to do was hang out with Wyatt all day. This was going to well and truly suck.
“Let’s go,” Jackson growled in Wyatt’s general direction when the kid didn’t immediately follow him. “I’ll put you on Shirley Temple today. She’s old, slow, and a little short, so you shouldn’t have a problem getting on her.”
“Whatever you think is best, boss,” Wyatt replied with that annoying shit-eating grin. “I’m cool with starting slow. We can work up to the big, strong horses, no problem.”
He waited next to Shirley Temple’s stall for Wyatt to catch up with him, then poked Wyatt in the chest. “Look, you got off on the wrong fucking foot with me by lying the other night, so how about you concentrate and quit flirtin’. It ain’t gonna work and I ain’t interested.”
Liar.
Wyatt’s single quirked eyebrow didn’t believe Jackson, either. “Okay, boss. Morning, Miss Temple. Looks like I’ll be riding you today.”
The paint mare stuck her head over the stall door and nickered at them. She was a favorite of the Woods grandkids because of her gentle nature, and Jackson had watched them ride her around the corral on more than one occasion. Seeing the happy, joyful kids spending time with their parents and grandparents was too painful most of the time. He’d never be able to do a job like Colt did, working around families week in and week out. It made him extra grateful for the solitude of this ranch.
Jackson showed Wyatt how to attach the halter and lead Shirley Temple to the tack area. She plodded along, Dog following behind her at an equally steady gait, probably curious what her master was up to. If only his sweet pup had a clue what sort of challenge today was going to be for her daddy.
“Get a brush and get started, just like yesterday,” Jackson said.
“You aren’t helping?”
“Not unless you fuck up. You say you’re a quick learner? Prove it.”
Wyatt took that as the challenge it was and got the brush. And he did a decent job brushing Shirley Temple down, pulling the brush down her neck, across her flanks, and down to her legs. Steady strokes with one hand while keeping his other on the horse as a grounding touch while he worked.
“Good,” Jackson said. “Now the blanket. Get the gray one, it’s a good fit for her.”
“Yes, boss.”
The use of “boss” was almost affectionate now, rather than snarky or challenging. Wyatt did a good job following his instructions on tightening the saddle and adjusting the stirrups. “There’s always a little give,” Jackson said when Wyatt seemed dubious over the saddle’s ability to not go completely sideways on him. “You don’t wanna squeeze the horse to death but you also don’t wanna fall off.”
“Right. Falling off is definitely bad.”
“Definitely.” After testing all the buckles, Jackson had Wyatt lead Shirley Temple out into the corral. He glanced around but they didn’t have an obvious audience. “All right, kid, let’s try mounting again.”
“Okay.” Wyatt got into position, determination overtaking all previous trepidation. “I watched a bunch of videos on my phone last night, so I think I got this.”
“Then have at it.”
Jackson took a few steps back and waited, arms crossed, and no, he did not briefly admire Wyatt’s ass in those tight jeans. Nope. He was simply paying attention to his student so the guy didn’t go tumbling, that was it. Wyatt braced, bounced, seemed to count to something in his head, and then he surprised the hell out of Jackson by hauling his long, lean body up into the saddle. It took him a minor struggle to get his right foot into the other stirrup but by God, he’d done it.
Jackson let out a low whistle that made Dog bark. “Nice job.”
Wyatt pumped his fist into the air once. “Nailed it. Yes.”
He hadn’t completely nailed it but no sense in pissing in the kid’s oatmeal first thing in the morning. A little practice and he’d definitely nail it. “Now try to dismount.”
“Already?”
