Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Beau
Duke. Come. On. You’re killin’ me today, bud.”
My big chestnut Morgan huffs like he’s personally offended by the accusation, his warm breath puffing against my shoulder while I’ve got his front hoof propped between my knees.
I swipe the back of my wrist across my forehead, smearing dirt instead of actually helping. “You weigh half a ton. The least you can do is pretend this isn’t a personal attack on me.”
Duke flicks an ear. Unimpressed by my tone.
Dick.
The barn smells like hay and leather and that clean earth scent that only comes from hard work and animals you love.
Sunlight slants through the high windows, catching dust in lazy golden beams. My tools are laid out beside me—hoof pick, rasp nippers, hammer, and a fresh shoe already shaped close to his size.
Behind me, a few stalls down, I hear singing.
It’s soft, off-key, and completely unbothered.
I grin without meaning to.
Abigail’s cleaning Duke’s empty stall, and from the sound of it, giving a full concert to an audience made up of the rest of the horses.
I shift Duke’s hoof slightly, bracing it against my thigh. “If you yank that away again, I swear I’m trading you in for a goat.”
He stomps once in protest before I glance over my shoulder. “Hey, Abs! Wanna grab a handful of treats and come help me quick? This stubborn ass doesn’t wanna cooperate today.”
Her singing stops mid-line. A second later I hear the rustle of grain and the light scuff of her now well-worn boots as they walk toward me.
She ambles into view with a fistful of peppermints and a smudge of dust on her cheek. “Are we talking about Duke or you?” she asks sweetly.
“Real funny,” I mutter.
She steps up to Duke’s head, sliding her palm down the blaze of white between his eyes. “Hi, handsome boy,” she coos. “Are you giving daddy a hard time. That’s not very polite.”
Duke immediately relaxes.
Fuckin’ traitor.
While she distracts him, I get back to work. First I use the hoof pick to clear out packed dirt and debris from the sole, making sure everything’s clean so I can see what I’m doing. Then, I carefully pry the old shoe loose, easing each nail free so I don’t crack the hoof wall.
Abigail feeds Duke a treat with each step. Praising him as if he’s performed a heroic act rather than just standing still.
“There you go,” she murmurs. “You’re doing such a good job. Best boy in the whole barn.”
“I’m literally the one doing the job,” I point out—because apparently I’m jealous of a horse now?
She ignores me completely. “Don’t listen to him, Duke. He’s just grumpy because you like me more than him. Seems to be the theme around here.”
I snort and grab the nippers, trimming excess hoof growth with steady squeezes. The sharp clip echoes through the barn.
“Hey,” she gasps softly to Duke. “He’s giving you a pedicure. It’s only polite that you say thank you.”
“I don’t recall you talkin’ this much when I’m fixing fences,” I mutter, switching to the file to smooth and level the hoof.
“That’s because fences don’t look at me with big brown eyes. Do they Duke? No they sure don’t.”
Duke nudges her shoulder.
“See?” she asks triumphantly.
I test the new shoe against the trimmed hoof, adjusting it slightly with the hammer against my anvil block until it sits flush. “You’re spoilin’ him,” I tell her.
“He deserves it,” she replies, slipping him another treat. “Don’t you, sweet boy? You’re just having an off day.”
“He nearly knocked me into a wall ten minutes ago.”
“Allegedly.”
I shake my head, mumbling under my breath about him being my horse as I position the shoe carefully and drive the nails in at the correct angle so they come out through the hoof wall cleanly.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Each strike controlled. Secure, but not too deep.
Methodical.
I bend and clinch the nail ends, filing them smooth so nothing catches.
All the while, Abigail coos over my horse.
“So after this,” she tells Duke, “I’m gonna give you fresh bedding. The fluffy kind. Not the cheap stuff your daddy tries to get away with.”
“Hey. I do—”
“And then”—she continues on, clearly ignoring me—“if you’re a good boy, I’ll give you a good brush down. How’s that sound?”
Duke chews contentedly, completely sold on whatever it is she has to say.
By the time I finish clinching and run the file one last time along the edge, Duke is practically asleep as Abigail hums while stroking his neck.
I lower his hoof gently to the ground. “There. Was that so hard?”
Duke shifts his weight, testing it, then stands square like he hasn’t been a shithead all damn morning.
I straighten slowly, my back protesting the hours I’ve already put in today. I stretch, hands braced at my hips, arching until my spine pops.
That’s when I catch her staring.
She’s leaned against the stall door now, arms folded loosely, eyes dragging over me in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with horseshoes.
Sunlight spills across her, catching in her red hair and turning the strawberry-blonde strands into molten gold.
Dust hangs in the air around her, clinging to the soft waves at her shoulders, making her look almost unreal.
Her freckles shine in the light against her pale skin, painted in the most perfect pattern.
And her hazel eyes are warm and bright and locked on me like I’m something worth admiring.
Christ.
I’d shoe every horse on this property twice if she looked at me like that every day.
I grin slow and cocky. “You like what you see?”
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and if staring at her didn’t have the power to undo me, that move right there would.
“Definitely,” she says, pushing off the stall and stepping toward me like she’s not even a little shy about it.
She doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t care that I’m filthy.
Her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling into my damp long sleeve, and I swear she leaves little trails of heat everywhere she touches.
Up close, I can see the tiny constellation of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and I have an unyielding urge to bend over and kiss every single one. I see the way the faint flush climbs up her cheeks and the way her pupils darken just a little when I look down at her mouth for a moment.
“Careful,” I murmur, thumb brushing along her jaw. “You keep lookin’ at me like that, and we just might have to go borrow Lincoln’s desk again.”
She hums softly. “Isn’t he up there?”
“Yeah. And?”
She lets out a shaky breath before I cup her jaw, tilt her face up, and kiss her.
Deep.
She melts into it instantly.
When she moans softly and her lips part, I take the invitation, my tongue sliding against hers, slow and unhurried. She tastes like sugar and whatever lip balm she’s been using lately.
She tastes like she’s mine.
Her fingers tighten in my shirt, pulling me closer like she can’t quite get enough.
The rest of the world fades around me.
It’s just her.
Just us.
After a long, heated minute, she breathes against my mouth. “As tempting as that sounds… I should finish the stalls.”
I groan dramatically, tipping my head back toward the ceiling. “Unbelievable. You’re just gonna leave me like this?” I gesture to my cock that’s now hard as steel beneath my jeans.
She laughs, warm and bright, already stepping around me as she pats the center of my chest. “You’ve got three more horses to do, cowboy.”
I give her backside a playful smack as she passes. “Love you.”
She tosses a grin over her shoulder. “Love you more.”
She disappears back down the aisle, red hair swaying against her back, humming again like she didn’t just wreck me in the middle of my workday.
I watch her longer than I mean to.
Duke eventually bumps my shoulder like he knows how gone I am for her.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, shaking myself out of it. “Don’t even start.”
But I can’t stop the small grin tugging at my mouth as I glance at her one more time.
Best damn thing that ever walked into this barn.
I pick up my hammer and move on to the next horse, already knowing good and well I’ll find some excuse to steal another kiss before the morning’s over.