He glances back with a crooked grin. “Bronc riding’s a rodeo event. Riders try to stay on a bucking horse for eight seconds, either bareback or saddle bronc.”
“Oh,” I say, wide-eyed. “I thought it was bulls.”
Sam chuckles. “Different event. Bulls are a whole other beast. Literally. That’s more up Liam’s alley.”
Phern moves past us toward the stalls, brushing snow from her shoulders.
“Because he couldn’t bear to let the family’s legacy die,” she adds, pulling open the top half of a stall door to reveal a sleek black mare.
I step closer, letting my gaze roam over the horse’s powerful frame. She’s beautiful. Muscles rippling beneath a glossy coat, intelligent eyes watching me with quiet curiosity.
“Bucking mares,” I murmur. “Who knew?”
Sam leans in again, brushing snow off my arm. “Guess you’ll be learning a lot while you’re here.”
I meet his eyes, that familiar thud echoing in my chest like a drumline that only reacts to him. Yeah. I already am.
For example, I’m learning this man can turn me on with a single sentence about learning. Unfair. Highly distracting.
Before I can say something wildly inappropriate, the horse beside me nudges my shoulder with her nose, like she’s reminding me I’m not alone in the barn. I smile and lift a hand to gently stroke her neck.
“What’s her name?”
“Delilah,” Sam says, watching me.
I raise an eyebrow. “Delilah, huh? Between her and Goliath, I’m sensing a biblical trend here.”
Phern, from two stalls down, doesn’t even look up. “We’ve also got Noah, Moses, and Esther.” She pauses, thinking. “Wait, no. We sold Esther last fall. She kept breaking through the fencing.”
“Classic Esther,” I say, and Sam snorts.
“Why biblical?” I ask, genuinely curious.
Sam shrugs, running a hand down Delilah’s mane. “Not really sure why. It’s just how it’s always been. Started with Grandpa, I think. He named the first foal ‘Job’ because the damn thing was more work than it was worth.”
I laugh, and even Phern cracks a smile at that.
“Well, that’s oddly fitting,” I say, running my hand along Delilah’s powerful neck. “Seems like there’s more history in this barn than in some small towns.”
“There is,” Sam says, eyes meeting mine again. “And not all of it’s in the past.”
Phern makes a dramatic gagging sound from across the barn. “Brother, you’ve been out of the dating game way too long if you think that line’s going to work.”
Sam doesn’t even flinch. “Worked, didn’t it?”
I snort, nodding.
“Gross,” Phern mutters again. In a louder tone, she says, “We’ve got more horses to feed. Less flirting, more shoveling.”
Sam turns to me with that maddeningly smug grin. “Boss has spoken.”
I give him a mock salute. “Back to work.”
He leads me toward an empty stall and hands me a rake.
I eye it like it’s a medieval torture device. “I’m not liking where this is going.”
“It’ll be fun. I promise.” He grabs a shovel of his own and nods for me to follow. “Besides, you said you wanted to learn, didn’t you?”
