He just shrugs, and I let out a withering laugh. Of course he hasn’t. What was I expecting from him?
“Like I said, she’s usually saddled when I’m finished with the feed.” He raises a brow right back at me, a challenging grin on his face. “Do you not know what saddle fits her? I thought you knew everything about the ranch.”
I know a taunt when I hear one, and my temper rises in response. As much as I would love to tell him he’s shit out of luck, I refuse to let him have the last word here.
Motherfucker.
I loop Ernie’s reins over one of the posts of the cross ties before stalking back to the tack room. Lyra’s saddle is in the same place it always is, the girth that fits her best tossed atopit. Her bridle hangs on a peg beneath a plaque with her name on it. I should have made him come in just to show him how colossally stupid he sounds asking me to find her tack for him. It’s probably best that I speak to him as little as possible.
I grab all the tack, along with a saddle pad, and lug them back out. Lucas has his back to me, scratching through Lyra’s forelock affectionately. I’ve never seen him so comfortable around any of the other horses, but she’s the one all the newbies ride for a reason.
“Make yourself useful,” I snap.
Lucas turns only to find himself with an arm full of tack, and I take a little too much pleasure in the grunt of surprise that punches out of him when I dump it all in his arms. I settle the saddle pad in place on her withers, not trusting him to place it properly, then take the bridle from him to hang it up on a hook on the wall.
“Go on, then,” I mock, crossing my arms over my chest. “You can saddle her now that you have all the tack, can’t you?”
He gives me a bright smile, but it does nothing to hide the uncertainty in his eyes. If people have been saddling Lyra for him every day, there’s no way he can manage it without instruction, but I have no interest in helping him. I deserve to watch him make an idiot of himself if he’s going to insist on bothering me.
At least he doesn’t complain about it, setting himself to the task without a word. He even manages to not put the saddle on backwards, which is better than I expected from him. It’s the girth that gives him trouble, and I snicker when he buckles it in so loosely that I could probably fit my entire fist between it and Lyra’s belly.
He glances back, scowling, but has enough sense to know I’m not just laughing at him because he looks like an idiot.
“What? This is right, isn’t it?”
“Sure, if you want the saddle to slip the second you get on,” I say drily.
I scoff, pushing him out of the way to cinch the girth down enough to actually hold the saddle in place. Lyra exhales, and I pull it another notch tighter before buckling it into place. Lucas stands behind me, watching silently, and it brings up a flood of memories I’d rather ignore. We used to do this same thing so many years ago, although Lucas usually had his arms wrapped around my waist while I tacked his horse up for him back then.
The knowledge that he’s only a foot away from me now makes my skin crawl. It’s all too much, even the familiar scents of the barn overwhelming in the face of the similarities burning bright in my mind.
I need fresh air. I need to get thefuckaway from Lucas.
I grab the bridle from the hook it’s hanging on and turn, shoving it straight into Lucas’s chest. He grabs it, eyes widening in surprise even as he lets out a nervous chuckle, but I duck off to the side and stalk back toward Ernie.
“You can figure out how to bridle her, can’t you?” I ask waspishly, tossing the words over my shoulder.
Hopefully he didn’t see the bright flush on my cheeks. The last thing I need right now is to give him more ammunition for whatever ridiculous game he’s playing.
I want nothing to do with Lucas Cross, and I don’t care what he thinks he’s going to get out of annoying the fuck out of me. All I want is to go on a ride and get some fresh air, and I’m not going to let him ruin this for me.
He’s already set me behind schedule—I wanted to be out on the trail by now. The sun is starting to dip below the tree tops at the edges of the property already, which means it’ll be well past dark by the time we even get to the back fields.
So much for having time to let Ernie blow off some steam. Or for getting to do the same myself. At this point, I just want to get the ride over with and get back.
The less time I can spend with Lucas, the better.
LUCAS
Not going to lie, I didn’t think I’d get this far.
Jenny and I haven’t managed anything close to a civil conversation since we got back from Bozeman, and I expected her to lay into me for so much as suggesting we go on a ride together. And, well, I’m disgustingly crazy about her, so I’d have been happy to have her attention even if she was just yelling at me. I figured we’d snipe at each other and I’d go back to my trailer and pointedlynotjerk off.
I know she only agreed so she could watch me make a fool out of myself, but I’m willing to play along if that’s how she wants to do things. I’m willing to do a lot of things for a second of her time.
And so what if I’m a little smug that my half-cocked plan actually worked?
Sure, she doesn’t seem particularly happy to have me bumbling along beside her, but she didn’t tell me to fuck off. She didn’t take off at a gallop and leave me in the dust, either. No, she keeps Ernie at a lazy lope, matching Lyra’s shorter strides effortlessly. I doubt she’s even paying attention to it, so comfortable in the saddle. She looks like she was born to ride.
