14. Josie
josie
. . .
I stared out the kitchen window, watching the sky change from an inky blue to the soft grey of dawn. My dad was at the stove, humming a Keith Whitley song while he cooked eggs and bacon—which was turkey, much to his dismay—for a couple of breakfast sandwiches.
This was my favorite time of day. There were no people milling about, no demands, stress, or to-do lists calling my name. It was just me and my dad and the simple necessities that kept the world turning.
The first two days of the clinic had flown by in a rush. They were filled with fundamental basics so Dad could assess the attendees’ current skills and needs. I stood beside the arena, taking notes as he rattled off his thoughts on each rider and horse. He liked to keep files on everyone—at the end of the clinic, he handed them over with the course certification. They detailed measurable improvement over the two weeks of training and a schedule of upcoming seminars he’d be teaching over the rest of the year.
I didn’t know how he’d done it on his own before. Mom would occasionally help, but Dad had been the one to put in the work and keep things organized. It was only when his health started to decline that he brought me on board to keep him straight.
“Will you pass me the cheese?” Dad asked, reaching for the bread in the toaster.
“Dad, those are going to be too?—”
“Ow, shit!” he said, placing his thumb in his mouth.
“—hot,” I finished, shaking my head. “You’re impatient. I don’t know why you never learn.”
He smiled over his shoulder. “Can’t help if I’m hungry. That rabbit food you keep piling onto my plate doesn’t last long.”
I took a long sip of my coffee, thankful for single serve makers so that I didn’t have to drink the muddy water Dad liked so much. “Well, that rabbit food is literally what the doctor ordered, so get used to it.”
He used a pair of tongs to pull a piece of turkey bacon from the pan, holding it up with a grimace. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a punishment like this. How’s a person supposed to get used to this? It’s shit.”
He wasn’t wrong. I hated eating it, too, but I wasn’t cruel enough to make him go through it alone. “And what if that turkey bacon ends up saving your life?”
“I’d rather be sent to an early grave,” he mumbled. “An old man’s gotta draw the line somewhere, Josie, and this may well be mine.”
I stood from my seat at the bar top, walking over to wrap my arms around my dad’s shoulders. “But then, who would sign my paychecks?”
He swatted my hand away, chuckling. “Smartass. Better watch that mouth, or I’ll let you walk now.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” I said, grabbing two paper plates and setting them on the counter. “Who’d keep you in line?”
He snorted, but didn’t say anything more as we assembled our sandwiches. When he reached into the fridge and grabbed the mayo, I tried to give him my stern mom look, but it didn’t have much effect. Instead, he unscrewed the lid, reached for a knife, and spread a hearty layer on each side of the toast.
All while staring at me in a taunt.
I threw my hands up when he finished. “Fine, but you better change the will to give me a bigger cut because I’m the one who tried to save your life.”
“Sure thing, sugar. I’ll get right on that,” he said, handing me my sandwich. He knocked his against mine and took a bite.
“What’s on the docket for the day?” I asked.
He leaned back on the counter, downing the rest of his coffee. “Well, I figured we’d finish up on horsemanship before lunch—I need to know they can handle themselves in the saddle before turning them loose on the livestock. There’s a couple I considered moving to the level one class. By the time we break, I’ll have a better idea of where they need to be.”
Movement out of the corner of my eye drew my attention as Dad continued to speak. I turned in time to see a figure walk into the barn, flipping on the overhead lights. While I couldn’t see their face, I knew it was Lincoln.
He was wearing a grey Black Springs Ranch t-shirt and jeans with his stupid black cowboy hat I loved to hate. I could only imagine how he’d chat to the horses as he walked down the stalls, how his voice’s deep, melodic lull would soothe them after an evening in dim lighting.
Just like I could imagine the way he’d use it on me as he whispered sinful praise in my ear if I gave him a chance. How he’d tell me I was beautiful before kissing down my neck to my chest and then lower still.
My dad stepped into my line of sight, pouring the remnants of his coffee into a travel mug. “Does Bishop have calves ready for the afternoon? ”
I cleared my throat. “Uh, yeah. He does. I talked to him about it last night before closing up shop.”
“Good, good,” he said. His phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket. His eyes were alight when he glanced at the screen. “I better take this.”
“Tell Mom I said hi!” I called after him as he waved me off and walked into the other room.
I looked out the window, noticing Lincoln leading one of the yearlings to a round pen off the back of the barn. I chewed on my lip, drumming my fingers on the butcher-block countertop. “Fuck it,” I whispered, reaching for my dad’s collection of travel mugs and grabbing two.
“What am I doing?” I muttered to myself, hugging the travel mugs close. The early morning air had an unusual bite for the beginning of summer. I hadn’t thought to grab my jacket when I’d snuck out.
The clinic wouldn’t start for another forty-five minutes, and Dad was still talking to Mom. The two of them had been laughing about something she’d said, and I was struck stupid at the emotion clawing its way up my throat. It’d almost been enough to make me stay and listen to them lovingly bicker at one another.
I’d never seen another love like my parents. There isn’t anything either of them wouldn’t do for the other. I think it was why I was such a hopeless romantic.
In a world filled with fuckboys and one-night stands, I wanted a true love—the kind that would last when looks faded and health deteriorated.
I slowed as I neared the pen, taking in the sight before me. I recognized the filly. Duchess was a beautiful sorrel Quarter Horse. Dad had found her at an auction, barely green broke and ready to run.
He knew right then and there that she belonged with us.
We quickly found out she wasn’t too fond of men. She’d only been with us a week and had bucked off three hands and bit at least twice as many who dared to get too near. Lennox, Cleo, and I had been taking turns caring for her. She still didn’t trust us, but at least she let us nearby.
But out here with Lincoln? There were no bared teeth in sight.
Duchess danced in one spot, nostrils flared as he stood before her with a saddle blanket. “Hey there, pretty girl,” he cooed, stepping closer. “You’re doing so well.”
I stopped, digging my feet into the dewy ground. Hearing him talk like that was not good for my heart. He’d ditched his hat on one of the posts, giving me a full view of his face.
It looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days, but the dark shadow didn’t look messy. It looked lived in. Rugged. I absentmindedly wondered what it would feel like…
“Why don’t you let me slide this over your back? I promise you’ll like it.”
Christ. Get a grip, Josie!
I inched closer, unable to help myself. I was drawn to him, watching in wonder as he slowly raised the blanket to her nose so she could examine the object. “See? Nothing to be afraid of. I wouldn’t hurt ya.”
The filly shifted on her feet but didn’t spook as Lincoln dragged the material along her back. Her ears twitched, eyes growing wide as she watched with careful curiosity. She wanted to hear him speak again and hear how he praised her.
I didn’t realize I’d reached the fencing until I ran into the post.
He ran his hand along her neck in gentle strokes. “Good girl,” he murmured. “You remind me of someone I know. Prettiest girl in the room, scared to let anyone in…” My heart kicked up as his wo rds trailed off. I could see the ghost of a smile on his lips. “A terrible snoop.” Lincoln looked over his shoulder, zeroing in on me.
“I’m not a snoop,” I said, leaning forward on the railing. I held one of the coffees out for him to take. “I come bearing gifts.”
“Gifts, huh?” He scratched his stubble, looking over at Duchess. “What do you think, girl? Should we trust her?”
I reached into my jacket and pulled out the apple slices I’d snagged. “What about now?”
Lincoln smiled, and it took my breath away. “Well, now you’re talking.” He clicked his tongue, gently pulling on the lead rope. Duchess went with little fuss, though she glared at the blanket on her back.
I passed the coffee over to Lincoln, and he took a sip. He closed his eyes and hummed. “You remembered how I like my coffee.”
“When someone uses the amount of sugar you do, it’s hard to forget,” I mumbled, focusing on how Duchess munched happily on the apple slices.
“The right amount,” he said, correcting me. “I use the right amount. Otherwise, it just tastes like burnt water.”
“It does not. It tastes exactly like it smells, which is good.”
“I bet your little boyfriend loves to see you coming with a fresh cup of coffee in your hand. Does he like it black? He seems like the type.”
“How would you know his type?”
He leaned in, the corner of his lips lifting. “Bishop told me all about him. Says he’s a real straight-laced finance guy.”
Goddamn Bishop. I’d kill him.
I held up my hand to stop Lincoln from talking. There was no way I was going to dig myself deeper into a hole with Lincoln, especially considering I had absolutely no idea how Ellis took his coffee. “Okay, well, way to ruin a nice gesture. I just thought you might want some since you’re up early.”
He tapped his mug against mine, smiling brighter. “Thank you, darlin’. You didn’t have to do this. I could’ve gotten some before the first seminar.”
“Yeah, well, you’re welcome,” I said, turning back for the house. “And stop calling me that. It’s inappropriate!”
His chuckle was warm and smooth. “Whatever you say… darlin ’.”