A low whinny carried from outside.
Nicole’s head came up. “Duke?”
“Sounds like Morgan and Paxton are here.” Ryan straightened, tossing his rag into a nearby bucket and swiped a hand across his forehead, leaving a faint streak of sealer near his hairline. “Right on time.”
Through the wide livery doors, a large truck and trailer pulled to a stop in the center of the dusty street. Morgan was already out of the cab, while Paxton hopped down from the passenger side. They moved with the synchronized grace of men who had spent their lives around livestock.
“Let’s go,” Ryan said, gesturing toward the door.
Nicole followed. Morgan was lowering the ramp of the trailer, the metal clanging loudly against the dirt. Duke backed out first, his massive hooves sounding like thunder on the wood. He tossed his dark head, his nostrils flaring as he took in the surrounding scents.
Behind him, a smaller, daintier chestnut mare stepped out, her coat gleaming like a new copper penny.
“Who’s this?” Nicole stepped closer to where Paxton held Duke’s lead.
“That’s Daisy.” Morgan led the mare toward the heavy wooden hitching post.
Nicole paused, her head tilting to one side as she looked from the massive Percheron to the chestnut mare. “Daisy? And Duke?”
Morgan stopped, the mare’s lead in his hand. He looked at the horses, then back at Nicole, his expression flat.
“Seriously?” Nicole asked, a smile finally tugging at her mouth. “Daisy and Duke? I don’t suppose the trailer is the General Lee?”
Frowning in a moment of confusion before his eyes lit with understanding, Morgan hefted a shoulder in an easy shrug. “I don’t think there’s a direct connection, but if there is, I’d blame Uncle Sean. Back in the day he was a fan of theDukes of Hazzard.”
Paxton chuckled as he hitched Duke to the post. Quinn appeared from inside the livery, dragging a nearby hose, he walked to the long metal trough recently scrubbed clean and parked by the post, and began filling it. The sound of the splashing water was the only cool thing on the street.
“Their stalls are ready in the new stables.” Ryan stopped beside his brothers. “The plan is to alternate between the two to draw attention to the upcoming rides.”
“They look like they’re already at home.” Nicole reached out and gave Duke a tentative pat on his powerful shoulder. The horse didn’t flinch; he just leaned into her touch, his dark eyes closing for a second.
Morgan checked his watch. “I need to get the trailer back.”
“Go on.” Quinn waved them off. “We’ve got the sealing under control.”
“Mostly,” Ryan muttered under his breath.
In the truck, the brothers drove off, the trailer rattling down Main Street.
Nicole lingered, watching Duke settle in place. His ears flicked at passing traffic, but he stood calm, chest rising slow and steady. As if checking on him, Duke lifted his head, swinging it toward Ryan.
Ryan stood a few feet from the trough, gaze drifting her way again. She caught the look—warm, unguarded—and felt her cheeks heat.
Taking a single step in retreat, the back of his leg bumped against the trough. Before Nicole could utter a word, he wobbled, overcorrected, and landed with a thunderous splash. Water sloshed over the sides, soaking the boardwalk. Duke startled, dancing sideways, and Nicole had to grab his lead to keep him from pulling free.
In the trough, Ryan sat, the water up to his waist, his expression somewhere between shock and resignation.
From inside the livery, Quinn’s voice drifted out, “At this rate, you’re going to wind up in traction.”
Nicole bit her lip, trying desperately not to laugh.
Ryan’s glare promised retribution, but the corner of his mouth twitched with just a hint of amusement. “Not a word.”
“Wasn’t going to say anything.”
Heaving a deep sigh, he pushed himself out of the trough. Water streamed from his jeans, pooling on the boardwalk. “I’m going to change into something dry.”
Leaving wet footprints in his wake, Ryan squelched past her toward his truck.
