He probably thinks I’m some clueless city slicker with my custom suits and polished shoes.
I’ll show him.
I make my way over to the supply shelves, grab a pair of rubber gloves and a pitchfork, and then head for the stall at the end of the hall, grabbing an empty wheelbarrow along the way. The horses watch me with mild curiosity.
“Hey, Riven,” I say quietly when I reach his stall.
Jackson has worked a minor miracle with him. Apparently, the night he got out and almost killed us both wasn’t his first escape. A few of the stable hands have nicknamed him Houdini. He used to rear and spin at the slightest hint of an open gate. Now, as I unlock the latch and slip into his stall, he greets me with a gentle nuzzle.
“How ya doin’, buddy?” He raises his head slightly. “I know, I know. I’m way more good-looking than your usual cleaner.”
I start mucking out the stall, shoveling the soiled bedding into the wheelbarrow. I’m so zeroed in on the job I don’t hear the sound of boots stomping down the hallway until: “What the hell are you doing?” Jackson whispers out a seething hiss.
I turn around with a smirk and rest my hand over the handle of the pitchfork. He’s in his trusty work boots, faded black jeans scuffed at the knees, and a heather-gray T-shirt. His hair is messy, his eyes are shining, and his scowl is scowling.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You’re meant to be in your office doing very important work on a spreadsheet.”
“And you’re meant to be getting me my coffee. And maybe get it right this time? Half-and-half with one sugar. Thanks, hon.”
I return to what I was doing.
Jackson doesn’t move, and I canfeelhis furious stare searing into the back of my skull.
“Well?” I ask over my shoulder, intent on annoying him some more. “Why aren’t you getting me my coffee?”
Thatgets him moving. Not in the direction of the break room, but into the stall and to right where I want him. Behind me. Well, actually, my ideal position ismebehindhim. But I can work with this for now.
I spear the pitchfork into the hay and twist my body in his direction, dropping my gaze to his calloused hands. They felt so good on my face when we kissed, rough but somehow also tender.
“Why are you here?” he grits out, his jaw tightly clenched.
“I’m helping out.”
He leans back, running his eyes over me in the extra-nice outfit I deliberately chose for today, and sneers, “In a five-thousand-dollar suit?”
“More like seven, but I won’t take offense.” He bristles, folding his arms across his chest. “Besides, now that we’re both on the same page and are working together?—”
“We are not working together.”
“No? So I just imagined our meeting where we agreed to change to a monthly service fee for vet care?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Or the coffee and note you left on my desk.”
“No. It’s just…”
He trails off, but I’m too curious to let it slide. “It’s just, what?”
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, followed by another. When he opens them again, he responds in a much friendlier tone. “While I appreciate what you’re doing, I have all the help I need. So thank you, but you’re not needed.”
“Actually, Collin and Hans both texted me late last night. Seems they’ve come down with food poisoning. Clancy beencooking again? Anyway, you’re down two stable hands today, so I beg to differ. Youdoneed my help.”
His lips press into a thin line, but he keeps his voice contained as he says, “I’ll call Pip. Think he’s got class in the afternoon, so he might be free this morning.”
Man, he’s stubborn. “I’m right here, Jackson. Use me.”
