“Yeah, I bet she could teach ya a thing or two.”
Gabby’s three friends giggle.
Wilder finally turns back around and we finish the hour-long tour. We go through the mountains and show them through the retreat before heading back to the barn.
As expected, Wilder gets Gabby’s number, and I take the horses to the grooming stalls to remove their saddles and brush them. Wilder finally joins me fifteen minutes later.
“She’s too young for you,” I tell him.
“You’re just jealous.”
“Of a barely legal chick? Nah, don’t think so.”
“She’s way legal, so fuck off.” Wilder grabs one of the brushes and works on one of the other horses.
“What would y’all even have in common?”
Someone that much younger would be at a different stage in their life. She doesn’t even live around here and is still in college. Though it worked out for my sister with a guy twice her age, I just don’t see how it’d work long-term for most people.
“Exchangin’ orgasms. Or as you said, maybe she could teach me a thing or two. Smart chicks who always have a book in their faces are the freakiest.” He smirks like he’s so clever.
Shaking my head, I drop it because there’s no sense in trying to reason with Wilder.
There never is.
After the six horses are back in their stalls, fed and water buckets refilled, we head to The Lodge for lunch. It’s where the guests and staff can help themselves to a full Southern buffet for brunch and dinner. Since Wilder and I don’t cook, we eat here at least once a day.
“Are you gonna call her?” I ask him when we walk through the reception doors.
“Yep, we’re makin’ plans now,” he says, texting while he walks and nearly runs into a table.
“It’s Sunday family supper night,” I remind him.
Mom and Gramma Grace cook a feast for all the children and grandchildren once a week and we’rerequiredto be there—no exceptions, except maybe death. After we eat dinner and dessert, they get out family albums and spend another couple hours gossiping and scrapbooking. We usually get out of staying so we can finish the evening chores, but I try to stick around at least once a month to make Mom happy.
“So I’ll leave early.” Wilder shrugs.
I scoff. “Good luck with that.”
Once I’ve filled up a plate and grabbed two slices of pie, I find a seat at our usual table. My phone’s been vibrating on and off for ten minutes, so I finally check it.
Unknown #1: I think there’s a nail in Gretchen’s hoof. She’s been limping and not wanting to lunge.
Jake: Get your farrier out there to check. Probably infected.
Unknown #1: I already called. He’s backed up until Wednesday. Everything I look up says to soak the hoof but she won’t let me near it to even look or put it in a bucket of warm water.
Jake: Maybe try with someone else there to keep her calm so you can lift it and check. If it’s bleeding, you need to get it out asap.
Unknown #3: I can come out and help! I’m heading out soon and can swing by.
Unknown #1: Are you sure? I don’t want to burden you.
Unknown #3: Of course! I’ll be there in 20!
Unknown #1: Thank you! You’re a lifesaver.
Although I haven’t a clue who two of these people are, it’s clear they’re a tight-knit group. Since Jake hasn’t introduced me and I don’t have anything to contribute to the conversation, I pocket my phone and finish eating.
