“It’s on the house.”
“Oh, no, I should pay.”
Holly shook her head. “Just make Becken smile, and you’ll pay more than the cost of a few pastries and tea.”
“Thank you.” My cheeks ached from smiling. “Both of you. This is really kind.”
“That’s what neighbors do,” Max said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
With a nod, I left, striding down the boardwalk and past a pottery barn with a sign announcing upcoming classes.
The rodeo arena sat beyond, at the edge of town, a sprawling complex of corrals and outbuildings that looked both rustic and professional. My breath made small puffs in the cold air as I approached the main arena, hoping Becken would be somewhere nearby.
I didn’t have to worry. He was already there, because apparently, the male started work before dawn. He stood near the center of the arena, examining a section of fencing, his big frame moving smoothly as he tested joints and checked for stability. Even from a distance, he was imposing, with the kind of presence that commanded attention.
Yesterday I’d been so focused on proving my expertise that I’d barely noticed how attractive he was. Today, watching him work with obvious skill and care, I definitely noticed. The way his shoulders moved under his work coat, the careful way hemade notes on a clipboard. The man clearly knew what he was doing.
I took a steadying breath and walked closer. “Good morning.”
He looked up, his dark eyes guarded but polite. “Morning.”
“I brought tea.” I held up his cup like a white flag. “And Max recommended maple bars, so I picked up a few for you as well.”
Surprise might have flickered in his expression. “That’s thoughtful.”
“It’s an apology.” I placed the box and container with two teas on a low table holding tools. “I was out of line yesterday. You were trying to explain something important, and I kept interrupting with assumptions based on completely different animals.”
He straightened, studying me with intelligent dark eyes. “You were doing your job.”
“My job is to help you establish a successful program, not to come in and change everything that’s already working.” I wrapped my hands around my tea cup, grateful for the warmth. “I’ve never worked with sorhoxes before. I should’ve started by asking questions instead of making recommendations.”
Becken was quiet for a moment before he reached for his tea. “They’re nothing like horses.”
“So I gathered.” I couldn’t help smiling a little. “Want to tell me what they are?”
He almost smiled back. Almost. “Bigger. Stronger bone density, different muscle structure. They respond to pressure differently, and their flight responses aren’t the same.”
“Which means standard rodeo protocols won’t work.”
“Right.” He took a sip of tea, and I caught the first hint of approval in his voice. “They’re also more intelligent than horses. They form strong bonds with their handlers.”
“That could actually be an advantage for exhibition events.” My mind was already running through possibilities. “If they’re more trainable, we could potentially develop some unique activities that would really set this program apart.”
Becken nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”
We stood there for a moment, sipping our drinks in the crisp morning air. It felt like progress even if it was small and much too tentative.
I nudged my head toward the area in general. “Want to show me what I’m working with?”
The sorhox corrals were behind the main arena, and as we approached, I heard them before I saw them, a low rumbling that seemed to vibrate through the ground. Then I got my first real look at one, and my breath caught.
“Holy shit.”
“Language,” Becken said, but there was definite amusement in his voice now.
The creature in the nearest corral was unlike anything I’d ever imagined. The size of a minivan, the sorhox had medium green hide and darker green eyes that held an unsettling intelligence. What really caught my attention were the curved horns spiking out from behind its ears, curling broadly around to the front and ending in lethal-looking points. Below those impressive horns, I caught a glimpse of fangs when it snorted, and its hooves were cloven with three wicked claws.
“That’s Thrakul,” Becken said. “He’s one of our calmer beasts.”
