"It felt like an eternity." His thumb traces a circle against my hip, and the possession of the gesture makes my pulse hammer. "You look gorgeous."
I'm wearing jeans, a pink tank top, and my favorite beat-up cowgirl boots that I've owned forever. There is nothing stunning about this outfit. But the way his gaze moves from my face to my boots and back tells me he means it.
A chorus of quacking erupts from beyond the far barn, and my head snaps toward the sound.
"They do that now when anyone drives up. They're a better security system than guard dogs," Charlie jokes.
"I can't wait to see them." I'm already moving toward the enclosure, and Charlie falls into step beside me, his hand finding mine as we walk.
"I knew it," he says. "The ducks are the only reason you agreed to come."
"That's not true." I glance up at him and let a beat pass. "Pearl is also a factor."
He scoffs. "So, I'm third on the list. Behind poultry and a horse."
"You're lucky you made the list at all, Hayden."
His laugh carries across the yard, and I squeeze his hand without thinking about it.
The duck enclosure comes into view, and the quacking intensifies. Gerald is standing on the pink bridge like a sentinel, beady eyes following as we approach. Karen preens at the water's edge. Wadsworth paddles in lazy circles near the center of the pond, and Biscuit and Dolly are tucked together in the shade by the shelter. Kevin is pacing the far fence line, voicing his complaints to no one in particular.
Charlie unlatches the gate and holds it for me. I step through and crouch down, and Gerald waddles off the bridge immediately, his head bobbing as he crosses the grass. He nudges my outstretched hand with his bill, the cool, smooth pressure of it making me smile so wide my face aches. Biscuit follows, curious and friendly, and Karen approaches a moment later with her regal caution.
"Hey, sweet boy." I scratch the top of Gerald's head, and he leans into my palm with a contented trill. Dolly and Wadsworth abandon the pond to investigate, and within a minute I have five ducks clustered around me, pecking at my boot and inspecting my jeans.
Kevin stops pacing. His quacking drops from outraged to suspicious, a lower, more inquisitive sound that makes Charlie's eyebrows rise. The duck tilts his head, studies me from across the enclosure, and then waddles toward me.
"Careful," Charlie warns. "He bit the landscaper's assistant yesterday."
Kevin reaches my knee and stops. After a momentary stare-off, I extend one finger toward him.
Kevin leans forward, nudges my fingertip, and squeaks softly as if he hadn’t been delivering a tirade thirty seconds ago. Then he settles onto the grass beside my boot and tucks his bill against his feathers.
Charlie's jaw drops. "Are you kidding me?" His tone suggests he just witnessed something he previously thought impossible."That damned duck has drawn blood from three people and terrified a ranch hand, and he just cuddled up to you like a lapdog."
"Maybe he just needed someone who wasn't afraid of him."
Charlie shakes his head in disbelief, but the tenderness in his eyes tells a different story. "All right, Sunshine." He extends a hand to help me up. "I promised you a riding lesson."
I give Kevin one last scratch and reluctantly stand, brushing grass from my jeans. Gerald quacks in protest as I step toward the gate, and the chorus starts up again behind us.
The barn interior is cool, the scent of hay and leather and horse filling the air. Pearl stands just inside, her dapple-gray coat gleaming. She turns her head when we enter and nickers at me.
"Hey, girl." I press my palm against her neck, and the mare nudges my shoulder the way she did the first time we met.
"Today you're doing the prep work." Charlie lifts a saddle pad from the rail and holds it out to me. "Last time Pearl came pre-saddled. That's not how it works in the real world."
"Meaning you did the hard part before I got here."
"Exactly. Today, you get to do it yourself."
He slowly walks me through the process, patient as ever. "That's good. Now the saddle." Charlie lifts the western saddle from the rack and hands it to me, and the weight of it catches me off guard. My arms dip before I brace, and he steadies my elbow without taking the saddle back. "Set it gently on top of the pad. You don't want to drop it on her back."
I swing the saddle up and settle it onto Pearl's back, lining it up the way he explains. My shoulders burn from the effort, and the comparison to lifting barrels and hose equipment makes me appreciate how different this kind of physical work feels.
Within minutes, I've saddled my first horse and I feel like dancing in a circle at the accomplishment.
"Last check." He runs his hand along the cinch and nods. "Yep. She's ready."
