And that's all.
JOVI
"Thanks for riding tonight," I tell Cas as we walk the barn aisle together. Casper Hayes has been a regular face around here ever since he arrived with his horses at the beginning of summer. "Temperance can use the practice. She's getting lazy only going on the trails for exercise." It's not been without benefit though. Given the mare's skittish nature, riding her in unfamiliar terrain that's unpredictable but safe, has gone a long way in helping her settle. She occasionally still gets spooked by the most random thing, but at least I've gotten her to the point her reactions aren't dangerous to her or her rider anymore.
"Of course, man. It'll give me a chance to see Hunter in action," Casper says, throwing the saddle he’s been carrying over the side of Temp's stall. "Watching you work him in the round pen's got me excited to see how he'll do in the arena where it counts." He rakes a hand through his shaggy dark brown hair, pulling it back from his eyes. It’s not as long as mine, but still long enough to get in the way and catch errand strands of hay in it. Like it does the second Templifts her muzzle to it, sniffing him, mouth full of alfalfa. He chuckles before reaching back to pat her neck.
“You know you’re the only one she does that too,” I tell him, reaching Hunter’s stall and unlatching the door.
“She must like my shampoo,” he counters, still laughing quietly.
“I think maybe she has a little crush,” I tease as I lead the gelding out into the aisle to groom him before I get him tacked up for tonight. Of the three horses Cas brought to Serendipity for training, he’s been the most challenging. Thus, the most fun. "And Hunter's got a stubborn streak a mile long, but I think we're making good progress in our communication."
The stocky quarter horse has been fun to work with. He's smart and usually wants to do his own thing. Earning his respect, making himwantto work with me, is exactly the kind of work I used to love doing with horses.
"Your sister bringing your boy out tonight?" I ask, looking over to find him having a quiet exchange with the mare I convinced him to ride tonight. Not that it took much to get him to agree. Cas has been rodeoing since he was thirteen, a respected contender in the circuit, he dropped out unexpectedly last year when he found out he had a son. A son who'd been placed in foster care after his mother up and disappeared on him.
Wyatt is five, putting him smack in the middle of Gavin and Remmi, and I've invited Cas to bring him out on more than one occasion. He's new in town, bought himself a patch of land not too far from Serendipity to keep cattle on.
The horses he brought here for me to train will be his main workforce until he expands enough to hire on help. Much as he's been part of this world, he's been a bull rider. Heknows his way around horses, and has been quick to pick up roping, but he's spent next to no time training the animals himself. Hence, why he sought out Trent.
"She said she'd be by in time to see me ride, but she wasn't sure how long she'd be able to stay," he runs a brush over Temperance's neck.
"Tell her to find me," Liz's voice turns my head toward her without thought. My body follows directly after. "I'll be there with Remmi and Gavin. We're happy to have Wyatt join us until you're done riding."
Cas nods, an appreciative smile taking shape on his face. Cas is the quiet sort. In sound and sight. His words never tell much and his expression even less so. He'd be hard to read if I didn't see the way he is with the horses. Or his son. "Thanks," he says. "That'd be really great."
"Of course." Liz's smile is soft, unusually so, and something unpleasant pinches in my chest at the sight. At seeing it directed at someone else. Doesn't matter that I know why she's offering. Because Cas isn't so different from us, his challenges all too familiar. And his sister, who's been helping out as much as possible, can only juggle so much alongside her own life. As an ER nurse at the local hospital, her hours are long and consistently switching from day to night. Often, she's caring for Wyatt when she ought to be sleeping.
Still, now would be a good time for Liz to stop fawning over him. He's a great dude and I certainly respect how he's stepped up to the plate as a father, but I don't see why he's so worthy of that smile when most of our interactions end in one of her scowls.
"You need something?" I ask, tone rougher than I intended.
Her head swivels toward me. Yep. That's the scowl. "I'm not allowed to come out here without a reason?"
"Allowed?" I scoff. "You can come out here any damn time you please. You just don't." After that first weekend when our lives collided out here, she took up the task of keeping our lives as separate as possible. Fine, maybe I tried to set some sort of bar for boundaries when I started knocking at the front door, but I still wanted to come in. She hasn't ventured into the barn once. Outside of our regular check ins and coming to rodeo nights as our photographer, she only texts when she needs to and sends the kids out for everything else. The only shared space we really have is the laundry room. It may be part of the house, but I can access it from the car port. Not once in the months we’ve been living here have we collided in there.
"You asked me to take pictures," she reminds me.
"We don't start for another hour," I point out. "Riders aren't even set to arrive for another thirty minutes."
Her nose twitches. "Which is why you really ought to stop and eat now." Her hand lifts from where it's been tucked at her side, and it's only now I notice she's holding a glass container. "I made curry mac and cheese." She shakes the container at me. "We had leftovers."
I frown, slowly reaching out to take the food. "Curry mac and cheese?"
She nods. "Don't act like you've never had it."
Then she wrings her hands for a painful moment of awkwardness before she turns on the ball of her foot and marches out of the barn without another word.
Silence stretches on for an uncomfortable amount of time, and I can feel Cas trying not to stare at me while I stand here, frozen, like a fucking idiot.
"What's curry mac and cheese?" he asks, breaking the strange stillness.
"This concoction I came up with when I was a teenager and leftovers were a constant means of survival in my house," I start to explain.
"One night, I threw together a bit of cheesy mac from a dinner earlier in the week, along with a serving of peas from another and side of spinach from the day before. Then, because my siblings were appalled with the absolute ruination of a classic staple, I threw in a shit-ton of curry. Told them it was a specialty. Prepared the way they would at the fanciest of restaurants. It became a favorite after that. Anytime I had the regular plain dish outside our own kitchen, I'd toss curry on it, at the very least."
I smirk, looking down at the container. "Liz called it an abomination the first time she saw me defile the meal she'd made."
