We trade smiles, my skin warming under his attention.
“The other day,” I say, remembering, “you said you found work?”
I’d meant to ask him, but it escaped my mind. I have no idea what he could possibly be doing.
A conspiratorial brightness shines in his eyes. “I could tell you, but it would be much more entertaining if you’d allow me to show you,” he says with that heart-melting grin. “In person, naturally.”
26
Three days later, William brandishesan arm toward a weathered stable, brick-red paint curling and peeling away from the wood.
“Don’t tell me,” I say, eyebrow raised, “you’ve brought me all this way to murder me?”
He grins. “Well, now you’ve spoiled the surprise, haven’t you?”
An oscillating pulse within me ripples outward as he takes my hand and pulls me closer. We spent half an hour wandering down a scenic nature trail to get here. The fall foliage is in full display, leaves drenched in deep maroons and rich yellows, as the surrounding sugar maples and red spruces release an earthy fragrance. Dead pine needles crunch under our boots as we descend onto a narrower footpath.
“Now feels like a good time to catch you up on trespassing laws,” I say as we reach the heavy stable doors.
“We’re not trespassing,” he says as he lifts the latch, allowing the doors to swing open. Then he steps inside and veers toward a pair of muddied rubber boots.
I stand in the entrance. “Breaking and entering is also frowned upon.”
William shakes his head, hair tumbling forward as he bends over to slide on the boots. “I assure you, we are meant to be here.”
The subtle-sweet scent of hay and feed hits my nostrils. As he wanders deeper into the stable, a lightclopsounds from somewhere nearby. Hooves. Then, a whinny.
He releases the swinging door on a stall to his left. “This is Whiskers.”
I lean inside the stable. A brown-and-white horse nickers as William gently strokes his dark mane.
“It is not.” I fold my arms. “That’s what you call a particularly fluffy house cat—maybea pet mouse.”
“I suppose you should take that up with Gary.”
My next question is poised on the tip of my tongue when the answer strides through the opposite end of the stable. An older gentleman with a ruddy complexion and freckles clasps his hands together, beaming.
“Thought I heard you, Enzo,” he says, his eyes on me. “Hello.”
“Delaney, this is Gary.” William swoops an arm in his direction. “Delaney, Gary.”
Gary meets me where I’m at in several large steps. “Pleasure.” He offers me a rough hand. I shake it. “Enzo’s spoken highly of you.”
I angle my head in his direction. “Has he?”
“Of course,” William says, not at all flustered. He takes Whiskers by the reins and leads him into the empty stall across from it.
The pieces fall into place. “So you work here?”
“A few hours a week,” Gary explains. “Pitched himself to meand everything. I was promised a hard worker, and that’s what we got.”
William fetches a rake propped in a corner. “We own horses back home,” he tells me. “I asked if I could tend to the cleaning for a fair wage.”
A grin breaks across my face. There’s no way William’s ever tended to a stable in his life. I’d bet my own money on it. However, I can’t deny how quickly he picks things up. I have to give it to him. It’s a clever opportunity.
“And he’s thorough,” Gary adds. “Doesn’t cut corners.”
“No, he’s not one to do that,” I hear myself say. “So this is your ranch?”
