I finally needed to fully admit it to myself; Owen lookedgood. Seeing him all competent and cowboy-adjacent forced me to acknowledge what I’d been ignoring.
No, he looked better than “good.”
Owen was fucking hot.
There was something undeniably sexy about a person in their element, especially when it was an unexpected one. To me, Owen read “city,” but his ease around the barn suggested there was more to the Big Gripper than I realized.
“Wow,” I breathed as the pair came to a stop in front of me.
“I know. He’s a stunner, huh?” Owen ran his hand down the side of the horse’s smooth neck.
I cleared my throat and nodded.
“Let me get him by you,” Owen said, nodding to the open area behind me.
I realized that I was mutely staring at the pair. I jumped out of the way.
“He’s sobig,” I said as Owen got the horse rigged up with the strapping system that would hold Cedar in place in the stall.
“Cedar? Nah, he’s Welsh pony and quarter horse cross on the small side. Now c’mere.”
I took a baby step toward Owen. Cedar was eyeballing me like he knew I was a novice.
“Ready?”
Owen asked it as if he could sense my hesitation. I wasn’t scared. I just wanted Cedar to like me, and equally important,I wanted Owen to be impressed with how quickly I took to horse chores.
“So ready.”
“Okay, the first step is the currycomb.” Owen held up a pink, oval plastic brush with hard little bristles that slipped over his hand and rested on his palm. He moved beside Cedar and started making rapid circles on the horse’s side. “This loosens up any dirt or stray hairs.”
I stood off to the side taking notes. “And that’s important why?”
“Well, first it’s a good way to take a physical inventory of your horse. You’ll see any bites or bumps that need attention. Plus brushing away buildup prevents sores from debris under the saddle.” He slid the comb off his hand and held it out to me. “Your turn.”
I glanced between Cedar and Owen. “Just like that? No safety talk?”
“Good point. Remember when you walk behind him, stay close and keep one hand on him. No loud noises or abrupt movements. Other than that, Cedar’s pretty bombproof.”
“Can he tell if I’m... tentative?” I asked.
“Oh yeah.” Owen smiled at me as he nodded. “They’re very perceptive, down to your body language and facial expressions.”
Sort of like Owen himself. Fantastic.
I forced a grin to hopefully convince Cedar that I was unfazed by his mysterious horse-ness. Owen held the comb out to me again.
“Don’t be stressed; he’s used to children and newbies,” he encouraged me.
I placed my notebook on the ground and slipped the comb on. Cedar might’ve been a not-so-big horse who was gentlewith kids, but to me he was a gigantic unknown creature with a profiler’s skills. I placed the comb against the horse’s smooth side and started making circles.
“Nice, there you go,” Owen said, sounding just like he did when I managed to serve to the right side of the court.
I half expected Cedar to jump away from me, but the horse stood patiently while I worked my way around his body. He was solid, like cement coated in velvet. Owen went on to present me with two additional brushes, all the while dropping little insights as I prepped Cedar that made me want to grab my notebook.
“One last step before we get to tack,” Owen said. He placed the soft brush I’d just used into the plastic storage tub. “The hoof pick. Nowthisgets addictive.”
He walked to Cedar and stood shoulder to shoulder so that he was facing the horse’s tail, then ran his hand down Cedar’s leg, gently lifted it, and turned the horse’s foot over in his hand. He pulled a black plastic tool out of his back pocket that had a small silver dagger at a right angle on the end of it.
