Jake’s looking at his boots, twisting the ball of one foot against the wooden step. “Do you actually not like me?”
I sober. “No, I’m sorry. You’re a nice guy.”
He weighs that. “You have reasons not to like me. I gave you a rough first impression.”
I wave my hand. “I got over that, cowboy.”
He studies me, that autumn oak leaf color of his eyes striking in the morning glow. He wants me to say more.
I lean back against the porch post and look out over the field. “It’s hard for me to trust nice. Nice has gotten me into trouble before. Nice gets your guard down.”
He nods, his voice going uncharacteristically serious. “Sorry to hear that. You deserve nice.”
The coffee sours in my stomach as I think back on all the times I’ve let my guard down in front of him already. I feel raw, exposed, and when you’re exposed, they can get at your deepest weaknesses.
My throat dries at the sincerity of his words. Heisnice. And not gross, boring nice. Just genuinely a good guy. A guy who sees other people struggling and helps out. And he seems to not expect anything for it. It’s wild. It has to be sincere. Animals treat him like he shits sunshine, and animals always know.
Then why doesn’t Cane like me? I don’t shit sunshine, but I want what’s best for the damn horse.
“We should get the horses in,” I say, rising to set my coffee cup inside.
“Yep,” he says, putting his mug in my outstretched hand. “Thanks for the brew, boss.”
“Sorry it wasn’t to your liking.”
“I’ll survive,” he muses.
I step down off the porch and side by side, we walk along the path to the pastures. I brush my hand along the tops of the little white flowers blooming along the path. There’s a tense silence between us, and I feel a need to fill it.
“I love these flowers,” I say. “I know they’re kinda weedy but I like that they thrive wherever they land, you know?”
The corner of Jake’s lips lifts. “Nice way to look at it.”
“I think I’m going to start making bouquets to take to the markets. We need a little income boost, and Becca and I could pick in the afternoons before we leave.”
I stoop to pluck a few blooms, arranging them in my hand. Jake studies me, and I display the impromptu bouquet for him. “Pretty,” he says.
I look down into them. “I’d rather have flowers like these than roses. They’re less fussy. They do what they want.”
“Sounds like somebody I know,” Jake says.
I gasp. “You think I’m not fussy? That’s amazing!”
“Oh, I was thinking of Becca,” he says, holding back a laugh.
I groan and he chuckles. “Were you the pesky youngest brother or something?”
“Excuse me, I’m a middle child, thank you very much. I earned my supreme pestering fair and square.”
We get to the pasture where I left Cane and Freckle, and I clang their leads along the gate and click my tongue. “Actually, that makes total sense. That explains your unbothered helpfulness.”
Freckle jogs over first, but instead of going to me, she heads directly for Jake.
“Oh, hey there, girl,” he says, clutching her halter and rubbing her nose.
“What am I, chopped liver?”
“She senses that you’re more bothered than unbothered,” he says with a wink. He makes kissing noises to coax Cane the rest of the way in. “Come on, buddy.”
