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I giggled, “Does he look like a pool boy to you?”
“Nah,” Vodka answered.
I heard Cole start the cycle and figured he’d just power on through. Instead, he returned, stance rather strong. He and Vodka exchanged glances, trying to suss one another out. I didn’t know what to do, so I just stood there silently.
“So, I didn’t mean to ruin your evening,” Cole said.
“You didn’t,” I answered. “I’m genuinely sorry for this. It’s terrible timing. Is Piper okay?”
“She tried out for a play and was up late last night practicing, so she conked out,” Cole answered. “But I’m being rude.”
Cole held his hand out. “I’m Cole. I live in the carriage house out there.”
“Oh, cool,” Vodka gave a confused nod. “Bill.”
That tracked. I had no idea what Vodka’s name even was until then—it didn’t matter.
“And you are?” Cole looked at me for an answer, even if the question was directed to Vodka.
“A friend,” I answered, nervously turning to my drink. “Jen and Sam are here, too. We went out after work.”
“From… the barn?” Cole asked.
“Are you like the stable help?” Vodka asked.
Cole’s chain store watch and battered sneakers suggested to Vodka he wasn’t of our social strata. So, of course Cole would be some sort of hired hand. It grossed me out. Even if he was the most junior member of our staff, I wouldn’t have liked someone using that tone.
If looks could kill, Cole would smite Vodka down hard.
“Cole is actually my trainer,” I answered. “He’s a world champion trainer, in fact.”
“In what?” Vodka asked. “My sister showed hunter-jumper horses.”
“Uh, I am primarily western. I’m just breaking a couple green horses for Chloe. My colt just won Color Breed Junior Western Pleasure.”
“Western Pleasure,” Vodka snickered. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s a class where the goal is to exhibit the horse. The horse that is the most pleasurable to ride—with a nice flat kneed jog, a rocking-horse lope, and natural movement and low head carriage—wins. Right?” I turned my head back to Cole, seeking confirmation.
Cole cocked his head. “Correct.”
“I may have watched a thing about it.” I shrugged. “And I did watch Doobs’s final classes. They were stellar. Your studbook is going to be full already.”
“Studbook?” Vodka asked.
Cole ignored him as if he didn’t even exist. “The tornado put it all off. I need good photos and an ad first. I haven’t done any marketing.”
“You should let me do it,” I said. “I take all our sale ad photos.”
“No, I couldn’t—”
“Seriously. I love doing it.”
Vodka continued to try to interject, but looked lost. Cole had taken over whether on purpose or not. In truth, I loved to watch Vodka swing in the wind and for Cole to be a little invested.
Cole sighed. “Fine, Chloe.”
He gave up and I won this round.
