“Caleb,” he says, putting his hand out for me to slap. Loud singing comes from the road along with gravel grinding. A bleach blond woman with a cigarette hanging from her lips flicks a nod at us as she rolls in. She’s probably in her twenties, but given the cigarette and her overall hardass appearance, she could be fifty for all I know. She doesn’t bother putting out the cigarette as she joins us, still talking with it bobbing from her mouth.
“Becca,” she says, lips curling around the cig in a lopsided smile.
“Caleb,” he repeats.
“Jake.”
More heavy sounds come from behind me, previously drowned out by Becca’s car. “Darcy.”
I about leap out of my skin and swallow my tongue. There’s Miss Skinny-Dip, her wet hair combed back in a curly ponytail. She leads a horse on either side of her and she’s wearing clothes now: a t-shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. It doesn’t do much to hide away that killer figure I already saw without a stitch on her.
“Hey!” I say a little too loud.
Then it hits me. Miss Skinny-Dip is also Miss Eyefuck from the sports bar. Right? What are the chances she looks that similar to someone else in Paint, West Virginia? The curls, the hips, those eyes. Those big brown doe eyes.
Darcy looks to be holding back a laugh as she slips past me, and I snap to attention. “Oh, let me help you, miss. I can get one of them. You shouldn’t walk two on your own.”
“Kissin’ ass right off the bat, huh, cowboy?” she teases and my face and ears go red. Becca chuckles, a dry, crackly sound and Caleb is polite enough to not make a peep. “Why don’t you take Freckle here? She’s a sweet old thing. Cane’s my troublemaker. Flunked out of the barrel circuit for being too rowdy.”
Bile rises in my throat. This is my first time handling a horse since my mom sold mine. I’m not nervous, but this moment is violently ripping off a Bandaid I thought I might have more time to process. Then again, I’m the fool who offered to help with the horses just now.
I reach for the offered lead line and get on the spotted Appaloosa’s left. Ha, “Freckle” for a spotted horse. “I can handle a troublemaker.”
Darcy puffs out her lip and rounds her eyes to condescend me. “I bet you can, cowboy. You’ll get plenty of chances to show your stuff.”
I ignore her mockery and stroke my hand down Freckle’s neck as we walk. “Good horse.”
In the cool barn, Darcy walks toward the stalls at the back. Freckle and Cane appear to be the only two horses around, though there are plenty of stalls in the barn. I wonder if there was a time when they had more horses.
“Freckle goes in that one right there,” she says, leading Cane into a far stall and cocking her head at the one next to it. I unclip Freckle and remove her halter, turning to see if there’s a spot to hang it. While my back’s turned, I feel a bump against my shoulder. I look back to see Freckle’s expectant face.
“Hi, sweet pea,” I say, turning to pet her nose. I admire the white stripe down the center of her mostly brown face. “You’re a beauty, aren’t ya?”
It’s such a great feeling being back with horses after so many years away from them. It’s not quite as gut-wrenching as I thought it would be, but nostalgia lingers at the edges of my thoughts. Freckle nuzzles my pants and I laugh. “I’ll bring you a treat next time if you’re good, okay? I gotta clear it with the boss first.”
My warm and fuzzy moment is interrupted. Darcy appears behind me with a bucket of feed, clipping it into the corner of Freckle’s stall. “Cowboy, will you go feed the dogs? Their bowls are up by the door and they get four scoops of the food in there.”
“My name’s Jake.” I resist rolling my eyes. How much longer is she going to call me “cowboy?”
She wrinkles her nose at that. “Figured. We’ve got a Becca, Jake, and Caleb. Bill told me Jake’s the horse guy.”
Oh, so she does know about me. I wonder what else she knows. Does she recognize me?
After those chores are done, Darcy dusts her hands on her jeans. “Alright, today we’ve got pruning on the peach trees, and we’re going to check some stuff with the irrigation system. One end’s almost got root rot and the other is desert dry.”
Becca and Caleb seem unaffected by Darcy’s curt manner.
“Wait, where’s Bill?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
Darcy checks her watch. “It’s Friday, so probably about to Maine by now.”
My comrades still don’t flinch. “He’s not . . . here?”
Darcy tips her head to the side. “That a problem, cowboy?”
“No, I just, I thought he was the boss.”
My throat tightens as her eyes turn murderous. Becca giggles and Caleb grimaces. Darcy scowls and I’ve never been so afraid of a five-and-a-half foot creature in my life. But there’s a flash of something beyond rage in her expression, a vulnerability.
