“We’d make better time on the ATVs,” Baker said.
Granny shook her head. Her roots were starting to show. I’d keep that to myself, though. She looked disgusted enough with me right now.
“This is a ranch. Take a couple of horses. Ride up looking handsome and manly. Give them gals something to dream of when they get back to California.”
“They’re lesbians working on a queer eco-justice project outline,” Baker explained.
“I know they’re lesbians. Think I don’t know they wear the violets? Don’t mean they can’t dream about handsome cowpokes. Everyone dreams about good-looking cowmen.”
Wear the violets?What did that even mean? Was it some ancient ’60s term for a lesbian? I’d have to look it up later.
“But the ATVs are—”
Baker never got to finish. Granny rapped the rail with her cane. My eyes flared.
“Studebaker, stop being so contrary. Nothing makes a man with a thorn in his balls feel better than riding out over his land on his horse.”
“Seems pulling the thorn out of his nuts would make him feel better,” I mumbled, got a dark look from Granny, and pressed my lips tight.
“Fine, fine, we’ll take some horses. Jesus Christ!” Baker stalked off to the horse barn.
“Don’t use his name in that tone, young man. I can still tan your backside!” Granny shouted at Baker’s back. My brother replied, but I couldn’t make out what he said. Granny then turned all of her attention to me. My throat felt smaller than normal. “Go on now. Talk it out. The good book warns aboutthose who trouble their own houses ending up owning the wind. You don’t want to end up being a wind owner, do you, Ford Bastian?”
“No, no, ma’am.” I had no clue what that meant either, but it sounded bad. Like someone inviting a twister into their home, or someone who farted a lot. I wasn’t sure. I nervously rolled the brim of my hat in my hands.
“Then go saddle up a horse and stop standing there staring at me. Go talk things out with your brother. When you come home, I’ll have some of that apple-cinnamon oatmeal you like so much warming on the stove.”
I gave her a nod, plopped my hat on my head, and headed off.
Neither of us said a word while we saddled up after doing a quick round of chores. I’d have to clean pens when I got back, same for the stables, which I hoped Linc would help with and not Baker. It was hard not to look at the man as we readied our rides. The horses were prancing about, eager to stretch their legs. Lady was tossing a clump of dirt around the yard when we led our horses out. She instantly sat down before being told, tail sweeping the ground, and hit me with that look. She had such sad brown eyes. I couldn’t say no.
“Okay, you can come. Stay close.”
The dog gave me a wink. “You trust she won’t run off?” Baker asked as he swung a leg over the back of his mare, a pretty dark brown mare named Prissy. I got settled into the saddle then bent over to give Persimmon, a gray gelding, a nice pat on his neck. Persimmon and Prissy were calm horses who had been the fastest to get used to Lady being along their fence line. They seemed okay with her being closer. Hopefully, they stayed cool about her.
“She won’t,” I said with a confidence I wished wasn’t a front. “Stay close,” I told the dog once again and set off with Baker, the morning just coming alive as we cleared the paddocks. Ladybounced ahead of us, joyous to be off a leash and just be a dog. Persimmon tossed his head a few times when Lady ventured too close. Prissy tried to nip the dog when she trotted past, but Lady was too fast.
We rode for a while in silence with only the sounds of nature coming awake and the soft rattle of tack and leather. Climbing up a knoll, we paused to allow Lady to catch up. I gave a sharp whistle, which got her nose out of a woodchuck hole. She raced to us, making Prissy sidestep then snort.
“She’s smart,” Baker said, tipping his head back to glance at the sky. His work-rough hands resting on the pommel of his saddle, shoulders loose. He shot me a look. I jerked my sight from him, blushing slightly at being caught gawking at him. “Wish I could say the same for you.” The tension took root in my jaw. “Don’t get mad. Jesus, Ford, you sure are defensive.”
“And you wouldn’t be if everyone and their fucking beagle were telling you to not take up with Hanley?!” I turned my head to glare at him openly.
“No, you’re right, I would have told you all to fuck yourselves if you’d have been preaching at me not to see him. What’s that old saying? The heart wants what the heart wants?” I was too mad to talk. I merely grunted. “I get it, you want Aiden. Truly, I do. He’s a smart, good-looking man with a love of animals that aligns with you perfectly.”
“Then why thehellare you always getting in our faces about dating?” Persimmon shifted under me. Lady lay down about ten feet from us, tongue out, happy with the world. Glad someone was happy.
“Because I don’t want to see you get hurt.” I tore my sight from my dog to focus on my brother. That was a pretty nice thing to say. He tossed a glance my way. “Look, I know Aiden is hot. And he’s got a way about him. But he’s also a known roamer. He’s gone through men like most of us do socks. Hell, I at least wearmy socks more than once, but he don’t ever do the same man twice.”
“He’s seeing me more than once,” I argued. Baker pressed his lips together.
“Yeah, and that’s not like him. Which also makes me worry when he does chuck you aside like a used condom that the pain for you will be worse.”
“You don’t know he’ll toss me aside,” I argued weakly because all I’d heard about Aiden was how he fucked and forgot men.
“No, I don’t know for sure, but if I were a gambling man, I’d place money on it happening,” he replied, his voice softening slightly before he met my gaze. “Look, I’m not saying you can’t date him, or hook up, or whatever terminology you want to use. I just want you to be careful. You’re a soft-hearted man. That ain’t a bad thing. The goats, Lady, hell, all of us are much better off with you in our lives spreading that sweet, shy sunshine of yours. We just want you to stay shy and sweet.”
“I will,” I muttered, my anger fizzling in the face of such kindness. “I know I have some things—traits—that seem weird to everyone, and I kind of get loopy with things.”
