“Morning,” I grumble back. Mornings arenotmy time to shine.
I glance at my Grandpa, who’s sitting at the kitchen table, clutching a cup of black coffee in one hand and an upside-down newspaper in the other. I come by my anti-morning personality genetically.
“Been sleeping in?” Zane asks. He’s not usually cheerful in the mornings either.
Ever since his botched wedding, we’ve started a pseudo friendship. One where he thinks we’re friends, and I build acarefully constructed crush that I will never admit to having on him. It’s called balance.
“Zane, how much caffeine have you had?”
“I drank a whole pot of coffee,” he admits with a cackle.
I’m still delusionally hopeful that Zane will someday realize he’s attracted to me as well. Unfortunately, that day isn’t here yet.
“Did you add some crack to it? Because you seem extra energetic today.” I yawn as I add a splash of creamer to my coffee cup. I’m glad I already got my horse Ginger ready for the day. Now I can just fix my coffee and drink it warm on the way to the roundup.
“Max said you were coming to ride with him today, and I’ll be driving right by your place. Want me to pick you up?” Zane asks.
Ride with Zane? It’s at least a thirty-minute drive. And I’ll be sitting in a truck with him. More time to talk with him.
“I guess that will work.” I do my best not to soundtooexcited.
“Good, because I’m halfway down your driveway.”
“It’s a good thing I have pants on.”
Grandpa looks at me from where he’s sitting at the kitchen table. “It’s a real concern,” he says loudly enough that Zane can hear him.
Zane chuckles. “Your grandpa doesn’t want to come ride, does he?”
Grandpa smiles at that and I wonder just how loud my phone volume is that he can hear every word Zane is saying.
“No, he doesn’t. Mom made him promise that he wouldn’t do more than an hour of riding at a time. And before you ask, Dad is heading to the sale today, so you’re stuck with me as help.”
Grandpa glares at me, then shakes his newspaper loudly just to annoy me.
Zane sighs. “I guess you’ll have to do.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a national treasure,” I remind him.
“Well, national treasure, I’m already parked outside the barn. Want me to load your horse into my trailer?”
I mutter under my breath, refill my coffee cup, and rush to the door. The barn is far enough from the house that if you’re not paying attention, you won’t hear someone pull in.
I hang up the phone and realize, as I shut the front door, that I haven’t answered his question. Hustling down the driveway, I nearly trip at least three times before I reach the barn.
Zane has my horse Ginger’s lead rope and is walking her into the trailer by the time I reach them. I’d already run down to the barn to saddle her and have her ready to go before I went back to the house for my coffee and jacket.
Zane ties off Ginger, pats her shoulder, then steps out of the trailer and swings the door shut.
“G’morning,” I say. “Thanks.”
He turns and smiles at me. That thousand-watt smile that I feel in my toes. “If it isn’t, Miss Sunshine. Ready?”
“Thanks for loading up Ginger.”
He shrugs and walks toward the pickup. “I didn’t grab her bridle yet. I wasn’t sure which was hers.”
I nod and walk into the barn and grab the bridle from one of the hooks by the door. There are at least fifteen different bridles hanging there. No wonder he wasn’t sure which to grab. It was sweet of him to try to find it, though.
