“I’d like that,” Jake replied, meaning it.
“Okay, well, then. Start shoveling this sh—er, paper—and we’ll get our asses out of the office,” Brady drawled, and they both laughed.
Brady was fixing the warped side of the drawer of the cabinet by hitting it repeatedly with the bootjack from the corner when Tanner appeared in the doorway. Between each loud metallic whack Brady was full-on belly laughing at a story Jake was regaling him with about receiving a full truckload of tomatoes instead of potatoes at a restaurant when an assistant had filled out the order sheet wrong and they’d had to think fast to use them all up. Everyone had been stained red up to their shoulders from processing it all so it wouldn’t go bad. The smell they’d contended with meant Jake still, to this day, couldn’t make Bolognese sauce from scratch without feeling queasy.
“Brady,” Tanner deadpanned, flicking a glance at Jake but not acknowledging him.
“Hey, Tan. What’s up?” Brady answered, setting the bootjack down and examining his handiwork, then sliding the drawer very slowly in along the tracks, the metal-on-metal screech making Jake wince and Tanner swear under his breath.Jake looked back at Brady when he did. Brady was smirking from ear to ear.
Tanner’s black eye was slowly fading, his jaw still slightly swollen along the left side. He hadn’t shaved, and the haggard expression was deeper than normal, which meant he hadn’t been sleeping.
“You got a minute? I need some advice on the big rotary combine. Bobby says the drum is off-balance and we can’t get the screen bolted back on. He’s trying to get it ready for the soybean test field.”
“Yeah, sure. Listen, I’m taking Jake out for a ride this afternoon. You haven’t swung a leg over all week. Come with us? That drum’s always been off-kilter, and I think the axle on the cylinder is bent. We don’t need it yet. Test field’s a month out from being ready. The combine can wait.”
Tanner stood still, eyes on the floor, his lips pinched together. Jake was expecting a flat-out refusal, asshole remark, or him simply storming out, but then his brother let out a heavy breath and nodded.
“Sure. Okay. Put City Boy on somethin’ safe. Hell, put him on Dolly for all I care.”
“Dolly?” Brady asked. “Come on, Tan, she’s not sound enough to—”
“Then Sandy, or Casper. One of the cow ponies. Until he proves he recognizes the front end of a horse from the arse, I am not willing to take chances with him gettin’ himself hurt,” Tanner blurted, glaring at Jake, before, as expected, storming out.
Brady whistled and set the screwdriver down. “I expected him to—”
“Say no?” Jake finished for him. “Same. Who’s Dolly?”
“Our forty-something-year-old blind cow pony,” Brady said, a hint of humor in his voice. “I think he expects to lead you around on a rope, New York.”
Jake blinked at that and then laughed. He’d give Tanner credit for that one. Inside joke, but one that was thinly veiled as an insult.
But he hadn’t refused, and he’d said he didn’t want Jake to get hurt. He hoped that could be a start to them figuring each other out, because they were both acting like horse’s asses.
That he could recognize, no help from anyone needed.
Chapter Twenty-one
“Liz! Liz?”
Liz poked her head out of the tack room as Brady strode down the aisle, his chaps slung over his shoulder, a huge grin on his face.
“Don’t yell in my stable, Brady West!” she scolded, then noticed the sparkle in his eyes. He was practically vibrating. “Why are you so damned happy?”
“I convinced Tan to go for a ride,” Brady replied as he reached her.
“Sourpuss could do with a gallop. So?” she replied.
“Jake’s comin’ too.”
“Are you trying to kill one or both of them?” Liz asked, but grinned as well. Brady’s mischievous joy was hard to ignore as he followed Liz back into the tack room and beelined for one of the far tack trunks that held Brett’s personal gear, and began rummaging through it. He came up with an old pair of dark-brown chaps, the leather polished to a shine from years of use. He laid them on the bench, then went back in and found a beat-up old pair of Brett’s gloves, still bent and darkened in spots from use. He examined them critically, and threw them on top of the chaps.
“Jake wanted to go out on a ride with Tan?” Liz asked, wondering if using his dad’s old gear would be difficult for Jake, if he found out. She wasn’t sure if the gloves would fit him; Brett’s hands in the past couple of years had gotten gnarly with arthritis and he’d needed a wider size. The chaps should since he and Jake were really similar in height, and the belt was generously studded with extra holes to cinch it in.
The thought of Jake in chaps made her flush with heat, and she turned from her brother in case she gave away what she was thinking about. They’d frame Jake’s ass perfectly.
“Nope. Taking Jake out to show him the place. Tan came into the office while we were talkin’. I asked him on impulse and he, well, he said yes.”
Liz whistled.
