“Ow, shit!” he said, placing his thumb in his mouth.
“—hot,” I finished, shaking my head. “You’re impatient. I don’t know why you never learn.”
He smiled over his shoulder. “Can’t help if I’m hungry. That rabbit food you keep piling onto my plate doesn’t last long.”
I took a long sip of my coffee, thankful for single serve makers so that I didn’t have to drink the muddy water Dad liked so much. “Well, that rabbit food is literally what the doctor ordered, so get used to it.”
He used a pair of tongs to pull a piece of turkey bacon from the pan, holding it up with a grimace. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a punishment like this. How’s a person supposed to get used to this? It’s shit.”
He wasn’t wrong. I hated eating it, too, but I wasn’t cruel enough to make him go through it alone. “And what if that turkey bacon ends up saving your life?”
“I’d rather be sent to an early grave,” he mumbled. “An old man’s gotta draw the line somewhere, Josie, and this may well be mine.”
I stood from my seat at the bar top, walking over to wrap my arms around my dad’s shoulders. “But then, who would sign my paychecks?”
He swatted my hand away, chuckling. “Smartass. Better watch that mouth, or I’ll let you walk now.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” I said, grabbing two paper plates and setting them on the counter. “Who’d keep you in line?”
He snorted, but didn’t say anything more as we assembled our sandwiches. When he reached into the fridge and grabbed themayo, I tried to give him my stern mom look, but it didn’t have much effect. Instead, he unscrewed the lid, reached for a knife, and spread a hearty layer on each side of the toast.
All while staring at me in a taunt.
I threw my hands up when he finished. “Fine, but you better change the will to give me a bigger cut becauseI’mthe one who tried to save your life.”
“Sure thing, sugar. I’ll get right on that,” he said, handing me my sandwich. He knocked his against mine and took a bite.
“What’s on the docket for the day?” I asked.
He leaned back on the counter, downing the rest of his coffee. “Well, I figured we’d finish up on horsemanship before lunch—I need to know they can handle themselves in the saddle before turning them loose on the livestock. There’s a couple I considered moving to the level one class. By the time we break, I’ll have a better idea of where they need to be.”
Movement out of the corner of my eye drew my attention as Dad continued to speak. I turned in time to see a figure walk into the barn, flipping on the overhead lights. While I couldn’t see their face, I knew it was Lincoln.
He was wearing a grey Black Springs Ranch t-shirt and jeans with his stupid black cowboy hat I loved to hate. I could only imagine how he’d chat to the horses as he walked down the stalls, how his voice’s deep, melodic lull would soothe them after an evening in dim lighting.
Just like I could imagine the way he’d use it on me as he whispered sinful praise in my ear if I gave him a chance. How he’d tell me I was beautiful before kissing down my neck to my chest and then lower still.
My dad stepped into my line of sight, pouring the remnants of his coffee into a travel mug. “Does Bishop have calves ready for the afternoon?”
I cleared my throat. “Uh, yeah. He does. I talked to him about it last night before closing up shop.”
“Good, good,” he said. His phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket. His eyes were alight when he glanced at the screen. “I better take this.”
“Tell Mom I said hi!” I called after him as he waved me off and walked into the other room.
I looked out the window, noticing Lincoln leading one of the yearlings to a round pen off the back of the barn. I chewed on my lip, drumming my fingers on the butcher-block countertop. “Fuck it,” I whispered, reaching for my dad’s collection of travel mugs and grabbing two.
“What am I doing?”I muttered to myself, hugging the travel mugs close. The early morning air had an unusual bite for the beginning of summer. I hadn’t thought to grab my jacket when I’d snuck out.
The clinic wouldn’t start for another forty-five minutes, and Dad was still talking to Mom. The two of them had been laughing about something she’d said, and I was struck stupid at the emotion clawing its way up my throat. It’d almost been enough to make me stay and listen to them lovingly bicker at one another.
I’d never seen another love like my parents. There isn’t anything either of them wouldn’t do for the other. I think it was why I was such a hopeless romantic.
In a world filled with fuckboys and one-night stands, I wanted a true love—the kind that would last when looks faded and health deteriorated.
I slowed as I neared the pen, taking in the sight before me. I recognized the filly. Duchess was a beautiful sorrel Quarter Horse.Dad had found her at an auction, barely green broke and ready to run.
He knew right then and there that she belonged with us.
