We’re on the last stall when Blake disrupts the quiet. “Did you always want to own Falling Sky?”
Without pausing the work, I respond. “Since I was a boy.”
“Really?” Blake questions from the other side of the stall where she continues to separate the straw from waste.
“Yep. My parents adopted me when I was a baby. Ranch life is all I’ve ever known,” I admit. “After my mother died, I had to step up. My father needed the help. Then he had multiple hip replacements and couldn’t work anymore.”
Blake pauses and faces me. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
I don't want to see the pity in her eyes, so I keep my head down and continue to muck. “It’s okay. Death is a part of life. It happens.”
“How…” she hesitates, then shakes her head and returns to our chore. “Never mind. That’s none of my business. I’m being nosy.”
I'm a fucking idiot.
If anyone understands, it would be her. Landon was a piece of shit, but losing a parent is never easy.
Turning in her direction, I rest my forearm on top of the staff work. “It was an armed robbery. She pulled over on the highway to help someone who was stranded. Turns out it was a ruse. My mother was a fighter. She pulled her shotgun, and they all pulled their own guns as well.”
Blake mimics my stance, her face filled with shock. “That’s awful.”
Shrugging off her sympathy, I pick up the stall fork and muck again. “They got what was coming to them. God made sure justice was served.”
I can feel her eyes analyzing me. Part of me wonders if she's abhorred by my insinuation, but I'm not ashamed of it. I've never been one to avoid doing what needs to be done.
She's silent a moment longer then finally says, “Good.”
We finish mucking, then wheel the waste out to the designated dry stack outside the barn. Bear waits for us at the barn doors, declining the opportunity to wade in the snow.
Heading back inside, I find a small pile of mud on the floor next to one of the water troughs. Done with the somber tone of the last hour, I reach into the mud and swipe a finger across Blake’s nose.
Blake jumps back with a Yelp. “Did you just…” she touches her nose then examines her finger. “You’re going to pay for that!”
“I’d like to see you try.” I taunt her.
Blake searches the ground, finding her own spot of mud. She dips her hand in, and I do the same in my pile, then we go at each other. My arms are longer than hers, so I am able to get more mud on her than she can on me.
She brushes mud through the strands of my hair, while I lift her sweater and smear a blob across her stomach. Blake screeches from the cold, then gets me back by ripping open the buttons on my shirt and slathering my chest in mud with both of her hands.
Five minutes later, we're both mottled with patches of mud on our clothes, skin, and hair. We pant in unison—our smiles are mirrors of each other’s.
The stress and burdens weighing her down are temporarily lifted.
Mission accomplished.
Talking a lock of dirt caked hair behind her ear, I smirk at her dirty clothes and skin. “I made a mess of you, mi Cielo.”
Blake inches closer, placing her hands on my pecs and rising onto her toes. “What’re you going to do about it, cowboy?” Her question is low and full of temptation.
Sweeping her into my arms, Blake lets out a startled shout followed by uninhibited laughter. With long, determined strides, I head for the house. “I’ll show you what I’m going to do.”
She giggles again then swipes my hat from my head, placing it on her own. “Save a horse,” she says with a wink.
“Ride a cowboy,” I finish for her as something inside me loosens.
I could get used to this.
CHAPTER 24
