I hide my smile, handing her a pitchfork. “That’s what stalls smell like, darlin’. Still not used to it, baby?”
She shoots me a wounded look, bow already slipping sideways from her fussing. “No, I’m not used to this shit smell. Is this really my lifeeeeee.”
I reach out, tucking her bow back into place. “This is your life, baby. And you’re doin’ it with me.”
She sighs, but she plants her boots in the straw and gets to work. She gags a little, but her hands don’t stop moving. That right there makes my chest ache with pride.
Maverick, on the other hand, is useless.
He stands two stalls down, holding a shovel, gagging louder than Catalina ever did. “Jesus Christ, Carter! This is inhumane!”
Catalina glares at him, face pale but determined. “You’re such a baby.”
“You gagged first!” he accuses, flapping a hand in front of his nose. “I’m empathetically gagging. It’s a condition.”
I lean against the stall door, biting back a laugh as they go at it. Catalina’s dramatic, sure, but she’s working steadily, as her pitchfork scrapes straw into a pile.
Maverick, meanwhile, looks like he’s about to write his will.
“You’re both doin’ great,” I say, keeping my tone soft, amused. My eyes linger on Catalina—hair messy, cheeks flushed, still gagging every so often but pushing through it. “Especially you, darlin’. Didn’t think I’d ever see you muckin’ stalls for me.”
She huffs, but there’s a little smile tucked in the corner of her mouth. “You owe me. Forever.”
I bend down, brushing a kiss across her temple despite the smell. “Already do.”
Maverick makes gagging noises louder than before. “Okay, this is worse than the stalls. PDA in a barn should be illegal.”
Catalina jabs her pitchfork in his direction. “You’re just mad because I’m better at this than you.”
He sputters. “I’m a professional athlete! I wasn’t built for—” He pauses to gag again, bending over dramatically. “—manual labor.”
I can’t help it. I laugh, watching my wife and my brother bicker like they were born to annoy each other.
Catalina’s still gagging every few minutes, but she hasn’t quit once, as the pitchfork scrapes steadily as she works the straw into neat piles.
Maverick, meanwhile, has abandoned his shovel completely. He’s leaning against the stall door, pouting.
“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “I should file a complaint.”
“With who?” Catalina fires back, breathless from working. “The barn police?”
I snort into my sleeve.
Maverick, being Maverick, pushes off the door and wanders over to Toffee’s stall. “At least you get me,” he says, sticking his hand through the slats to stroke her nose. “You’re sweet, unlike these two monsters.”
Toffee’s ears flick back.
Catalina glances up just as Maverick leans in closer. “Yeah, girl. You wouldn’t let me suffer like this, would you?—”
SNAP.
“Toffee!” Catalina squeals as Maverick jerks back, clutching his hand. “She bit me! The demon horse bit me!”
“She warned you,” I deadpan, not even trying to hide my grin now. “Ears pinned back means stay the hell away.”
Catalina drops her pitchfork and doubles over laughing, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh my God, Maverick, you got bullied by a horse!”
“It wasn’t bullying, it was assault!” he protests, holding up his hand. “She tried to take my fingers off!”
