My nose wrinkles at the thought, and I go back to Desi's chorizo, egg, and refried bean goodness. We’re a bunch of animals, so we plow through the food pretty quickly, then make our way out the door.
Trip calls after us, “I'll be out in a bit.”
We all know exactly what’ll be delaying him this morning, and Wyatt rolls his eyes to the heavens. “At least he's warning us. I don't think I could survive listening to my son in flagrante ever again.”
Desi cackles and smacks Wyatt's arm. “Whatever. As if you haven't been feeling me up all through breakfast. I'm pretty sure this is what you’d call an apple-tree situation.”
“I'll give you a situation. Get in the car,” Wyatt says, smacking Desi's ass.
Wyatt’s liberal affections create even more of an ache in my chest, but it’s easily ignored.
I turn to Joaquin, who's also looking after them wistfully. His eyes flick to mine, then to the ground. Is it wrong to feel better knowing that someone else is suffering with me?
Probably, but that's a dilemma for another day.
“Alright, jefe. Let's get you familiar with theLoveRanch.”
Joaquin laughs, slapping me on the back. “Let’s go.”
We head out, making our way down the porch steps and past the stallion barn on the long walkway that runs to the stables. I introduce him to Sprite and her two foals, and Sprite immediately nuzzles Joaquin's neck. I crack up.
“What?”
“Don't let your son see Sprite loving up on you. He'll blow a gasket.”
The joke is that Sparrow is a horse whisperer, with Sprite as his only exception. Luke joined us while recovering from a nasty shoulder injury, and he and Sprite got along immediately. It was, hilariously, one of the things Sparrow couldn’t stand about the man. I’m glad those two figured out their differences, but Sprite still gives Sparrow the hairy eyeball whenever they’re in the same space together.
Better yet, it still really bothers him, andthatamuses me to no end.
“Hopefully, I can trust your discretion,” Joaquin responds, laughing as he hugs Sprite's neck. The two foals surround him, nudging at his hips.
“You look like a goddamn Argentinian Snow White, Joaquin. Except you’re surrounded by horses instead of woodland creatures.”
“Eh, I’ve always felt part horse my whole life.”
“Having seen the goods, I can attest that there are parts of you that do seem a bitequinein proportion.”
“Bah,” he says, dismissing me with a gesture. The ruddy color on his cheeks makes me think he doesn’t mind the compliment that much.
We explore the rest of the stables, and he lets out a low whistle. “The Goodnights really do take care of their animals.” Stopping in the middle of the aisle, he looks up at the cedar-gabled ceilings. “Oy, these stables are gorgeous.”
I nod along. “They've been this way since the beginning. When it was just them and young Trip, when everything was so hard, and everybody was overworked…they still took excellent care of their animals.”
Joaquin tilts his head at me. “So you've been here from the beginning?”
Nodding, I can’t help but smile. “Damn near. Trip was already out of his toddler years, but they'd posted an ad to help out with a few projects that they couldn't do on their own.”
“Like what?” Joaquin asks.
I suppose it should be weird that he and I have carnal knowledge of each other, but damn, there's just something about the man that doesn't allow for that kind of awkwardness. He’s so gentle and accepting that I have yet to find a truly uncomfortable situation with him.
If I had to guess, it's because he listens. He's never been the type to talk over someone, and he's not afraid of whatever they have to say. He just…listens.
I suppose that’s a really good quality in a foreman.
“Warwick?” he asks, his brows stitching together.
“Oh, sorry. Your question just set me on a walk down memory lane. As for the projects we worked on those first years…they wanted an on-site option for their staff and to be competitive even though they couldn't afford super-high wages. So I helped them transform the old barn into the bunkhouse.”
