Chapter Nine
Kieran’s gaze kept drifting from the hoof Finley cradled in his left hand to the perfect ass cradled by his too-tight denim.
How the hell did he move as fluidly as he did without painful ramifications?
Why couldn’t he quit staring at the man’s ass or stop fantasizing about him?
Kieran had been there a week, and the only thing he’d accomplished was plowing his way through the bottle of Monkey Grease.
To his defense, Cash had returned Sunday evening and hadn’t left since, eliminating the opportunity to search the big ranch house.
The lack of circumstance should’ve made Kieran mad at himself for choosing poker with the crew over looking for his answers, but he’d had such a good time matching wits, a.k.a.
flirting, with Finley that he couldn’t work up an ounce of regret.
Instead, Kieran promised that he’d renege on the art festival trip if Cash left again the following weekend, but the ranch owner remarked at breakfast that he was looking forward to a quiet Saturday at home.
Kieran wanted to be disappointed, but he was looking forward to the trip to Last Chance Creek with Finley.
“She needs her hooves trimmed,” Finley said, drawing Kieran’s attention back to the task at hand.
Finley still held the horse’s foot in his hand, but he’d tipped his head back to peer up at Kieran, reminding him of the numerous fantasies he’d had of the man on his knees in front of him.
His scalp prickled as his body started to heat.
His expression must’ve tipped Finley off that his mind was elsewhere because he smirked and said, “Did you catch that?”
“Yes,” Kieran replied, though how he’d retained the knowledge was beyond him.
He’d learned an overwhelming amount of information about horses over the past week.
Harry had boasted that her oatmeal was excellent brain food and would stick to his ribs, providing vital energy for a physical workday.
Kieran needed both things to keep up with his boss and his new responsibilities.
Buttercup, the tawny horse, let out a noise that sounded like a snicker.
Snitch. The horse whinnied and tossed her lustrous mane.
Finley looked up and volleyed his gaze between horse and man. “Why do I feel like I’m missing out on a private conversation?”
Kieran shrugged and stroked a hand over Buttercup’s muzzle. Finley sighed and shook his head before returning his attention to the horse’s hoof. “Do you remember how you can easily tell if it’s time for a trim?”
“You couldn’t draw a straight line from the coronet to her elbow,” Kieran replied.
“Technically, I couldn’t draw a straight line with a ruler, but you are correct. We need to let Rueben know so he can give her a pedicure.” Finley released Buttercup’s foot, then stood up to move to her other front leg. A soft hiss escaped his lips, and a wince flashed across his handsome features.
Kieran narrowed his eyes and caught a slight hitch in Finley’s step as he moved to Buttercup’s flank.
It was similar to the one he’d witnessed the previous Saturday.
Maybe wearing those tight jeans was cutting off the circulation to his nether regions or perhaps he needed the salve more than Kieran had.
He saw the same wince when Finley squatted to inspect the next hoof.
“Are you hurt?” Kieran asked before he could think better of it.
Finley stiffened and kept his gaze on his task, but Kieran witnessed the blush creeping up his boss’s neck.
The temptation to rub his nose against Finley’s flesh to see if it was warm to the touch caught Kieran off guard and nearly sent him running.
No attachment. No bonding. Canoodling with his boss would break both those rules.
“Just a little stiff,” Finley said.
“You didn’t give me all your salve, did you?”
“No,” Finley said, “I just didn’t use it.”
He rose to his feet and finished the health check they performed regularly on the horses to catch injuries before they turned into something more threatening.
Once Buttercup received a clean bill of health, Finley showed Kieran how to groom the horses.
He sent Buttercup off with her handler once they finished and retrieved Skipper, a gorgeous young horse with a gait that exuded confidence.
“He’s a little full of himself,” Finley said, “but he’s an excellent horse for you to train on.”
Like the day before, Finley stayed close while Kieran ran point.
He offered suggestions and gentle reminders as Kieran made his way around the horse, checking hooves and searching for injuries.
He’d nearly made the mistake of walking behind the horse, but Finley grabbed his arm and pulled him back in time.
Kieran’s face heated from the rookie mistake, but Finley wouldn’t let him stew about it.
He distracted Kieran by asking what he should do next.
He let go of his irritation and continued the inspection, pointing to a shallow scratch on Skipper’s hip.
“Good eye,” Finley said. “He’s rubbed up against something. Based on the location, I’m thinking a splintered piece of wood at the paddock or in his stall. We’ll check both places.”
After they groomed Skipper, Finley showed Kieran how to apply healing ointment and explained what the signs of early infection would look like.
He used a gentle touch and an even gentler voice as he treated the animal.
Kieran glanced up at one point and caught Finley staring at him with an expression that looked too much like adoration for Kieran’s comfort, but Finley blinked, and approval replaced his heart eyes.
They continued the wellness checks and grooming for three more horses before taking a water break.
Kieran averted his gaze from Finley’s mouth wrapped around the bottle and his throat as it worked up and down to swallow the cold liquid.
Both things reminded him of the fantasies he’d had about his boss.
Finley tossed his empty bottle into the recycling bin. “Ready?”
Kieran held up his finger and downed the rest of his bottle.
Finley didn’t have any qualms about watching him, or maybe he wasn’t aware of the laserlike focus he aimed at Kieran’s mouth.
A little devil whispered in his ear or shoved his pitchfork into Kieran’s brain, urging him to test his boss.
Kieran pulled the empty bottle from his mouth and licked his bottom lip, catching the lingering droplets and Finley’s full attention.
The man continued staring until a bark of laughter echoed through the barn.
Finley jumped and jerked his gaze up to meet Kieran’s just as Owen and Tyler stepped into the supply room.
Shock and shame shimmered in his pale irises, and Kieran regretted giving in to his impulse.
Tyler and Owen stopped inside the door when they spotted Kieran and Finley. Their conversation faded as they looked between their boss and the newcomer.
“We just stopped for a drink and were heading out,” Finley said.
Owen’s lips tilted into a smirk as he assessed the situation, and a new tension filled the air. It was clear he suspected something was going on between Finley and Kieran. “Of course, boss.”
“We’re getting a drink too,” Tyler said. “We should make it champagne after surviving Nellie’s shenanigans this morning. That crazy horse nearly tore a chunk out of my ass.”
Kieran stood taller, feeling the need to advocate for her. What had they done to rile her up? Someone had obviously abused her with a brush. What other items had been used against her?
The comment about Nellie coerced a huge smile from Owen’s lips. “She barely grazed you.”
Tyler turned around, thrust his ass toward his friend, and pointed to a back pocket. The fabric was loose at three corners and dangled by a fourth. “I just got these jeans.”
“Ivan can fix them,” Finley said. It wasn’t the first time someone referenced the big guy having nimble fingers and a gentle touch. Kieran had also learned that he was the head beekeeper, a skill he’d learned in Arrowhead. “Better yet,” Finley said, “he could teach you how to fix them.”
“It’s better to teach a man to fish than to feed him one,” Owen agreed. “Keep your wits about you today, though. Nellie girl is in a mood.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Finley replied. “I have a trick up my sleeve that might calm her down a little.” He glanced at Kieran. “Maybe two tricks.”
“We should start a friendly wager,” Tyler said.
Kieran didn’t like that bet any more than the stupid stakes they’d placed on Finley’s love life. “Maybe we should bet on the horse instead of against her.”
Owen’s shoulders went back, and he puffed out his chest. Finley halted the bigger man before a rebuttal could form on his lips.
“We all love Nellie,” he said, patting Owen’s shoulder as he passed. “Let’s get back to it, Kieran.”
Owen held his gaze, a challenge shimmering in his eyes. Kieran didn’t start fights, but he never backed down from one either. Technically, they weren’t fighting, but the tension sparking between them could easily flare into an altercation.
“Kieran!” Finley called out from the hallway. And, damn, he really liked the way his name rolled off his tongue, especially when it held a hint of command. Kieran didn’t think he had a power dynamic kink, but he was already trying to figure out ways to entice the bossier side out of Finley.
Kieran forcibly shifted his brain back into work mode to concentrate on doing a good job.
He picked a rock from Biscuit’s hoof and identified another wound for Sarge.
He and Finley worked through the rest of the stable, saving the feistiest beauty for last. Before they retrieved Nellie from her stall, Finley reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle.
“I hope this works,” he said, squirting a small amount into the palm of his hand.