It’s what differentiates a good trainer from a bad one.
“If you want my honest opinion, Tanner, then yeah, I do think you could be a decent trainer someday. But if that’s really what you’re interested in doing, you need to be sure. As gratifying as it can be to turn a horse around, it doesn’t come without pain, both physical and mental. The shit Rowe’s seen is . . .” I think back to the night we found Diesel trapped in that broken stable, the scent of his stall creeping through my memories. Then, the three horses still trying to find a home at this ranch. “It’s enough to turn your stomach and make you wish you could bring a sledgehammer through a cowboy’s skull. This isn’t a luxurious job.”
“I won’t know unless I try,” he says, his voice a lot more thoughtful than earlier.
“No, you won’t. Just hang around the pen more. Try and sit in the arena and watch Sawyer with one of the easier horses, or hang out outside the new mare’s pen and see if you feel the draw to help her. There’s plenty you can do to test just how badly you actually want to do this without diving headfirst with a wild one.”
“We’ve all heard about you.”
His blurted words draw my brows in. I blink slowly, waiting for him to explain further. Only, he doesn’t.
“Heard what?” I ask tightly.
He pales slightly at my tone before shaking his head, floppy hair swinging beneath his hat. “Not anything bad. Just that you were here on the ranch when Rowe was gone. And that you werethe one who was with him when Diesel was brought in. I always just assumed you cared about training. Nobody specified about what your old job was here, and we haven’t asked any of the guys old enough to know.”
“I’m not a trainer. I love horses, but putting them back together after someone’s mistreated them isn’t my calling. Grooming was always my thing. That’s what I did here before. It’s what I’ve always done.”
“You’re good at it.”
“You’ve already blown your chance to use flattery to get your way,” I mutter, battling a smirk.
“Oh, I’ve gotten that. I was being honest.”
I rub the dust from the hay off my arms and tip my chin at him. “Thanks. If you put in the work, I’ll make sure Rowe knows you’re interested.”
“And here I thought I’d shot myself in the foot.”
“You have, but lucky for you, I’m in a good mood.” I glance over my shoulder and catch Brock’s retreating figure and then look back at Tanner. “Lighten up on that kid. He might be the best hire the ranch has gotten this summer, and I heard you assholes giving him shit last night.”
He’d forgotten to top off the water buckets in a handful of stalls. It was a dumb mistake that could have been worse than it was if Otis hadn’t caught it. Now, he’s got a permanent target on his back. It’s the same shit the guys always do to the kids doing grunt work all summer, but I’ve taken a surprising liking to this one.
“He’s been here long enough not to forget to fill water buckets,” Tanner says with a lazy eye roll.
“And if I had been here to see you during your first weeks at this place, I’d bet you forgot the same kind of shit. Give him a break, or you’ll meet the side of me Otis should have warnedyou about before spewing off about my non-existent training abilities.”
His eyes widen just enough to let me know he’s heard me. “I’ll lay off, but I can’t promise the same for everyone else.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Or rather, I’ll make Rowe spread my message for me. They’ll listen to him before me, anyway. That’s the way it’s always been around here, as decent as these cowboys are compared to some others I’ve come across.
Tanner adjusts his hat and turns to face the same direction as I am, staring out at Rowe and the horse he’s with. I rap my knuckles against Diesel’s paddock gate to get his attention and smile at him. The urge to just skip the plans I have tonight in exchange for a few more hours with him nips at me before I shove it away. I force myself to leave the stable altogether.
“Hey—thanks for the advice,” Tanner says.
I lift a hand and give him a thumbs-up before stepping into the warm sun. It’s a bit from setting still, but I only give it another hour. Rowe’s truck is parked where I left it earlier, the bed still full of our camping shit, and the front windows are cracked a few inches.
Hooves clop on the dirt behind the stable while a few truck doors slam shut. I don’t pay any of the noises much attention as I cross the road and lean against the wooden fence. Rowe’s too busy to notice me, so I watch him instead. I’m content like this, just . . . being.
The last week has been just like this. From the moment we got out of his truck and went back into the rodeo, I couldn’t seem to stop touching him. He surprised me and all of our friends when he hauled me onto his lap right there on the bleachers, only offering grunts as explanations when Shade poked and prodded like an ass. I’ve avoided Ash’s texts since too, not knowing exactly what to say to him.
From his patience while I’ve been ignoring him and lack of immediate disgust when he saw us like that, I’m assuming he’s okay with it. If he felt differently, I know he’d have shown up already and tried to run Rowe over or some other alpha male, brother-type bullshit.
We’re too grown for that, I think. Maybe if I’d acted on my teenage crush back before Rowe went away, it would be a different story. But now? I’d be embarrassed if Ash showed up here guns blazing, ready to start a fight.
We’ll know his feelings for sure tonight. The camping trip he and Lacey pretty much begged us to have at our family grounds is going to have us too close and personal to try and ignore his questions.
“You just gonna stand there and watch me, hellcat?”
