The problem with having old friends with mischief in their blood meant I had to be on my toes if I didn’t want to be ribbed about my apparently obvious crush. Because on the way there, I’d realized that was what I was feeling.
Lake was funny and sweet, and sarcastic. He was protective and loving, and he had a snarky, witty side a mile wide. Apparently that was my thing and I hadn’t known.
“So, here are the newbies,” Jules was saying as I followed them to the smaller stable where they liked to put the newcomers for a quarantine of sorts.
I winced. Lake wouldn’t take this well.
I saw him stop by the closest stall and peer in. The horse inside was young. It was clearly malnourished and had hooves that hadn’t been trimmed in a very long time.
“Oh God,” Lake whispered.
I instantly went and embraced him from behind, and he leaned back to me for strength.
I glanced at Jules, who suddenly smiled, their face all soft and understanding. They cleared their throat. “This is an approximately three-year-old bigger pony mare. Rough condition, needs a lot of love and patience. She’s the usual case. Theo knows what I mean.” Jules moved to the next stall. “This guy…I don’t know what to do with him.”
Lake and I moved to peer into the stall as one.
Lake gasped. “Oh my God, he’s so cute.”
The donkey was small, probably the smallest I’d ever seen, but it also seemed fully grown.
“It’s in reasonable condition. Needs feeding, but it looks like for whatever reason he was taken care of more than the mare.”
The donkey got to his feet and reached up.
“Also, he bites. A lot. Probably because he’s been hand-fed and he’s clever.”
Lake pulled back his hand just as we all heard the teeth snap together.
“Noted,” Lake said dryly.
“Anything else?” I asked Jules.
“Well, these two and the kittens would already help a lot.” Jules appeared torn. I’d seen this look on their face before.
I made an educated guess. “You’re not sure if you have the capability of training someone?”
Jules grimaced. “He’s in the bigger stable, I’ve had him for a few months now.” They gestured for us to follow so we did. “He came from Louisiana. Badly socialized, five years old, was intact. I had to have him gelded.”
The banging from the large box stall could be heard as soon as we stepped into the aisle. Lake winced.
“Come on, Izzy,” Jules called to the horse. “Stop that!”
“Does that ever work?” Lake deadpanned.
I chuckled.
Izzy was gorgeous. He stood tall; I guessed pretty close to sixteen hands. He was seal brown—nearly black with reddish areas around his eyes, on his muzzle and other soft areas of his body—with a large white star on his forehead.
“I can see why you like him,” I murmured as I held my hand through the door.
“He’s…not even ornery. Just needs to have those hormone levels down and be around horses who will put him in his place.”
“I bet Ursula would love him.” Lake grinned. “She hates pushy boys.”
The fact that he’d figured that out in such a short time made me feel an odd pride.
“You still have her?” Jules asked. “Is she still a bitch?”
