Cane also heads for Jake. I reach for his halter, but he holds his face away. “Should have named him after the other Cain.”
“Wait,” Jake pauses, “it’s not like raising Cain?”
“No. His name is Candy Cane. Like he’s sweet or something. He was named before he got to us.”
Jake clips Cane with one hand while holding Freckle. “I bet,” he says, petting Cane’s muzzle, “that it’s because he’s a mint whore.”
He passes both leads to me, both horses still on the other side of the gate. He fishes in his pocket and extracts two mint candies.
“Oh, now I see why I’m not the favorite,” I joke. “You’re bribing them. What do you do for the dogs? Carry bacon? Carry dead mice for Stormy to play with? Play your pipe for the kids you coach?”
Jake laughs, a deep and warm sound, as he opens the gate and hands me Freckle’s lead. “I am not the Pied Piper.”
“Yeah, okay, you just coach Little League without having any kids. What’s that about anyway?”
Jake shrugs. “I miss playing and don’t really have time to commit to an adult league. So I coach.”
I sniff, squinting as the sun starts to peek through the trees at the top of the mountain. Little puffs of mist hang just above the trees where the forest exhales, but those clouds will fade by the time the sun fully hits them. “When did you play last?”
“College. Played at Virginia Tech.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, wow. So you were like, good. Wait a minute, did you get to go to school for free? I’m super jealous if that’s the case. I’m going to be in debt forever.”
“Between baseball, my grades, and some financial stuff, yeah. Debt free so far.”
I fan myself. “A smart jock and debt free? That’s a viable pickup line these days. ‘Hey ladies, I’m debt free.’”
“Well, don’t get too excited. I also haven’t exactly been gainfully employed in the real world yet.”
I guffaw. “Yeah, well, not like my degree got me gainfully employed. That was just skill and luck.”
Jake peeks around Cane to look at me where we walk side by side. “Why? What did you study?”
“I have the very useful and high-paying MFA in creative writing.”
I search his expression for any sign of disdain, but it’s not there. Rob made fun of my MFA, one time even telling me I paid a lot of money for someone to say I did a good job writing in my journal.
A lump rises in my throat as the Rob demon that lurks in my brain comes to life.It’s not like you’re going to be some bestseller.The horses’ hooves make soft clopping noises as we cross the bridge to the barn. But Jake just asks, “What do you write?”
“This and that. I try to be well-rounded.”
Jake’s voice goes a little lower. “Sure. What do you like to write, though?”
I fold my lips between my teeth. I haven’t talked about my writing much in the last year or so, putting it in a mental box under the bed. I have an answer, but this has already been too much about me. “Still figuring that out,” I manage.
We get the horses in their stalls and feed in their buckets.
I’m looking over my clipboard of tasks for the week when Jake stops beside me. “See? Walk and talk with the boss wasn’t so bad.”
I flatten my lips into a line and give him a quick glance. “We made it. Thanks for helping. Really.”
“Anytime, boss.”
SEVENTEEN
JAKE
It’s sohumid out I can almost see the air, and heavy gray clouds hover just above the trees. Despite the lack of sun, it was a sweltering day of picking peaches in the orchard. Darcy declared we should both take a break before putting the horses out for the night, and I didn’t argue. I don’t usually shower before I’m completely done for the day, but this time it was a necessity. I’ll take twelve showers today if I have to.
