35. Candice
35
CANDICE
The days after Storm dies pass in a blur. A sweaty, overworked blur. Because from the moment Nathan brings Bubba and Lila by the house as a surprise, I work my ass off. His cheering up gets me out of bed and reminds me that there are horses who need me. I work with Brown Sugar, Buckles, and Nico from dawn til dusk, determined to rehabilitate them to the point where they’ll be able to find their forever homes. I post twice a day on the barn’s socials, and spend hours in the evening pouring over our finances. We’re in better shape than we ever have been, thanks to the donations from social media and the anonymous donor who sends us a few hundred bucks a week, but I want us to be even more secure.
Once Nathan leaves Star Mountain, who knows how popular our page will be. It’s clear that he’s still driving a lot of traffic to us, as he tags the barn in a post nearly every day. And even though thinking about him leaving makes me feel sick to my stomach, I push it out of my mind. I just don’t like change.
Nathan and I are still working together every day, and our training together is going better than ever. He tells me about his plans to start a new reining or cutting horse soon, and I help him get to the point where Brown Sugar is happy to let him ride her. They’ve just been on a few easy rides around the barn and surrounding fields so far, but she’s relaxed. She’s finally learned that she doesn’t have to go, go, go all the damn time.
By the middle of the week, it’s already time for Western Horsewoman to come to the barn for the interview and photoshoot, and I’ve been too busy and exhausted to even think about it. I’m pushing myself hard to avoid dwelling on my grief, which is something I’ve had a lot of practice doing. It’s how I’ve survived these last two years. It may not be the healthiest coping mechanism and I may still tear up when I think of Storm, but at least I’m on my feet and doing things.
At the moment, Jenny and I are in the barn, taking care of some early morning chores before the magazine comes by in an hour or so.
“Should we clean up around here a bit?” I ask Jenny. “I mean, for the interview.”
She looks up from the goat food she’s scooping into a pan and shrugs. “If you want to. But I think it looks fine.”
I glance around the barn and try to look at it with objective eyes—with eyes that don’t love it so much. If I’m being honest, a lot of things are worn out, dirty, and rusted. It reminds me of the first conversation I had with Nathan when he arrived. He was quick to notice how in need of upkeep this place is, and remembering that conversation fills me with shame. I don’t want Star Mountain to look shabby in a magazine as big as Western Horsewoman.
“Well, I’m at least going to sweep up a bit,” I say, grabbing a broom. “And I’m going to encourage them to do most of the shoot outside.”
I sweep for a few minutes, and then Nathan comes into the barn, his boots clicking on the ground as he walks. I look up from the pile of hay I’ve gathered and immediately set the broom down and stare.
The man walking through my barn right now is not the Nathan Booth I’ve come to know over the last few weeks. That Nathan is kind and funny, and yes, charming, but not in an intentional way. This Nathan is the one who the public, and the magazine, will expect to see. He’s dressed in artfully distressed jeans and a pair of expensive new boots, and his hair has been perfectly coiffed and styled. His expression is roguish, with his mouth cocked up in a lazy half smile. If I squint, I’m sure I’ll see his teeth actually glint.
“Well, you clean up nice,” I say, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
“Do I?” Nathan asks, giving me a little spin.
I can’t help but smile—even if he’s not my Nathan right now, he’s still funny.
“Yeah, you look good. Though the boots are so shiny they’re hurting my eyes.”
“Won’t the magazine do all the styling anyways?” Jenny asks.
“They will,” he confirms. “But this is an important interview. I’ve got to look my best from the get-go.”
“Why is it so important?” There’s a challenge in Jenny’s voice and I can already tell this won’t go well.
“Because I’ve been hemorrhaging brand deals since the bar fight. This interview will help restore my reputation.”
“You mean Star Mountain has helped you with your reputation,” she says. “Because it has. Don’t deny how good it looks for you to be spending your time helping out here.”
“I’m not denying it, and I never have. Candice and Beau have been aware of how much I’ve posted about the barn since day one,” Nathan says, a shadow falling over his eyes.
“It’s benefited us just as much as it’s benefited him, Jenny,” I say quietly. “We have some actual financial stability now. We can actually plan for the future. Hell, I might even be able to give you a raise.”
“Fine,” she says, crossing her arms. “I just don’t want him to forget that he owes us some gratitude once he’s off cavorting at rodeos once again.”
“Jesus, Jenny, who pissed in your oatmeal this morning?” Nathan asks.
The two bicker back and forth, but I don’t hear what they’re saying. A rushing sound fills my ears as Jenny’s words replay in my mind. The words are a knife to my heart—because they give voice to the inevitable reality that I’ve been pushing aside. Nathan will leave, and he will go back to his lucrative career of competitions and photoshoots and half-million-dollar brand deals.
It doesn’t matter , I tell myself. Things between us are just casual—just practice. Nathan will leave, our lessons will end, and I’ll be ready to go out and find a real relationship. Everything will be fine.
I will be fine.
“What’s wrong?” Nathan asks, looking me over. “You’re being quiet.”
Damn him for being so perceptive and knowing me so well.
“Nothing,” I say. “Still feeling a little down about Storm is all.”
“You should take some time off. Process,” Jenny says.
“I took a day.”
“Jenny’s right,” Nathan says. “Processing is good. You’ve been working yourself to the bone these last few days.”
“I feel like if I stop, I’ll collapse,” I admit. “The horses, and caring for them, are keeping me going. It gives me a purpose.”
“That’s fine,” Jenny says. “But promise me that you and Beau will at least plan to take some time off?”
“Sure,” I say, though I know that ripping my brother away from this place will be even tougher even than getting me to leave. If I leave for a few days, the horses will be just fine, even if I might not be. If Beau left and one of them had a medical emergency, I know he’d never forgive himself. He knows some vets he’d trust to take care of them, but my older brother doesn’t know how to let anyone else shoulder his responsibilities.
“You could plan a trip to Paris,” Nathan says.
I snort. “With what money? If we take any time off it will probably be a summer camping trip or something.” We used to do that with our grandparents—it was the only type of vacation we could afford, but we didn’t care. We always had fun.
Nathan looks like he wants to say something, but his phone pings in his pocket.
“The Western Horsewoman crew are here, and so is my manager,” he says after reading the text.
He holds out his arm to me, and I take it, resting my hand lightly in the crook of his elbow. He looks down at me, eyes shining with excitement, and says, “It’s showtime, Viper.”
The woman interviewing Nathan and running the show is called Shane, and from the moment I shake her hand, I dislike her. She takes one look at me, says, “I’m Shane,” and then turns to Nathan and starts gabbing at him about her “vision” and the “narrative” she’s going to craft with him.
After a few moments, I’m edged out of the way by a short blonde woman wearing cowboy boots that have never seen a day’s work. From the way she talks to Nathan and Shane, I gather that she’s Amber, his manager. She barely glances at me, and I refrain from interjecting with bitchy comments. It doesn’t matter if Shane or Amber are nice to me. What matters is that the rescue ends up featured in their magazine with millions of readers.
I take a deep breath in and then let it out, and paste a smile on my face. It doesn’t match the hollow feeling in my chest, but that’s fine. I can do this.
“Let me show you around,” I say, pushing forward a bit.
“Who are you?” Amber asks.
“This is Candice,” Nathan says. “She owns this place with her brother Beau. She’s going to be in the article, too.”
Amber looks me up and down, and so does Shane.
“She’ll need hair and makeup. Obviously,” Shane says. “But she’s pretty. And tall. You two will look good together.”
“And she’s also right here,” I mutter, though Shane doesn’t notice. She’s too busy talking to Amber about details.
“Sorry,” Nathan mouths.
“It’s okay,” I mouth back.
Nathan and Shane walk towards the stables, and I trail behind, watching them intently. He’s smiling and flirting, and they’re bantering back and forth like old friends even though I’m pretty sure he’s only met her a few times before. She’s tossing her hair and laughing, and I can’t even blame her. I’ve had Nathan Booth’s full attention directed at me a few times and it’s enough to make even the most reserved heterosexual woman blush and preen.
I try to shake off the feelings of jealousy that suffuse me as I watch him smile even wider at her, his eyes twinkling. That’s my twinkle, damn it. But as the headline of his last article in Western Horsewoman proclaimed, he’s “America’s Favorite Cowboy.” He’s never been just mine.
“Candice,” Nathan says. “Come here and give Shane a tour of the place.”
“Okay,” I say, smiling at him. I can tell he’s trying to include me. “This is the stable where we house all of the horses, unless they are being quarantined.” My stomach turns at the thought of Storm, dying in her quarantine stall. “And here’s the?—”
“Do you have a lot of horses to quarantine?” Shane cuts in and asks.
“Yes. I mean, it’s standard practice when getting a new animal to isolate them,” I explain, though she’s not really paying attention.
“How old is this place?” she asks, looking down at the worn floorboards.
“Old. My grandparents bought the land in the seventies and built it.”
“That’s great. It has such a rustic feel to it!” Shane chirps. “It’s going to look great in the photos. Though we’ll need a few props to give it more of an old West feel.”
Something about that irks me. We do not need props for authenticity. But I keep my mouth shut and show her the tack room and office. Most of the horses are outside so it’s quiet, and Shane walks around examining everything and making notes.
“I think she really likes it here,” Nathan says, coming to stand next to me.
“Great, I was so worried.” I roll my eyes. “She also likes me! But obviously I’m lacking in the hair and makeup department.”
Nathan chuckles. “Don’t worry, she’ll sic her team of assistants on me as well.”
I fake a gasp. “America’s favorite cowboy wears makeup? I’m shocked.”
“I’m embarrassed to admit how much makeup they slap on me for shoots,” he says. “I tell ‘em I don’t need it, that this mug is better au naturel, but they never listen.” He slaps his cheeks lightly and grins, sending me into peals of laughter.
This piques Shane’s interest and she looks over at us, clearly assessing our relationship. I quickly move away from Nathan, unnerved by her attention. I don’t want any part of my personal life in this article.
“Let’s go outside,” I say, and they both follow behind me.
I show Shane the training ring, paddocks, and our house. She’s most interested in the pasture behind the house, and says it will make a good shooting location. She also scrutinizes the horses, and decides that Maggie will look best with Ballantine. This isn’t surprising—Maggie’s coat is stunning and I always get comments on how beautiful she is. Unfortunately for Shane, she hasn’t been clipped and polished like Ballantine, so she’ll look a bit scruffier than he does in the photos.
Nathan and I head into the trailer the magazine brought with them for hair, makeup, and wardrobe, while Shane talks to the photographer about what shots they want to set up. Getting my hair and makeup done is actually a pretty fun experience, and I send Winnie a bunch of selfies in the process. The makeup enhances my features, and the way they style my hair makes it look beachy and cool, rather than unkempt. I still look like a girl who grew up at a barn, just with better grooming.
The stylist puts me in a long white dress, a tasseled leather vest, and an ornate pair of boots. They also hand me a cowboy hat that matches the boots.
“I’m going to wear my own, if that’s okay,” I tell them. “It’s sentimental.”
I can tell that the stylist would like to argue, but she doesn’t have a chance. Nathan comes out of the dressing room wearing the chaps and jeans she put him in, and she rushes over to tuck and prod at his clothes. I’ve spent enough time with Winnie to know that “zhuzhing” an outfit is an integral part of styling. So I make myself scarce, and head outside to find Shane.
“You look incredible!” Shane says to me, looking up from her phone. “Like, literally a model. No wonder Nathan likes you.”
“We’re friends,” I say, giving her a terse smile. “But thanks.”
“Sure, whatever. We’re going to start out back. Why don’t you go get your horse.”
I try my best not to shiver in the cold, since I’m dressed in something I’d wear in the summer and it’s thirty degrees outside. I cross my arms for warmth and then grab Maggie from the barn, where Tomás has been kind enough to groom her and tack her up. He whistles when he sees me and gives me an exaggerated once over.
“Has Nathan seen you? He’s going to faint when he does,” he jokes.
“Shut it,” I say, rolling my eyes.
I bring Maggie out to the pasture we’re shooting in, and I see that the photography assistants have set out a few barrels, jars of dried flowers, and even a round bale of hay.
“Hi,” a man with dark curly hair says to me. “I’m the photographer. Call me Mick.”
“I’m Candice. And just so you know, I’m not very good at modeling or whatever so you can, you know…”
“Give you as much direction as possible? Got it.” Mick smiles warmly at me and I feel my nerves ease a bit. I can do this. I might not be a model, but they only want a few shots of me anyways.
“Thank you. This is Maggie,” I say.
To Mick’s credit, he reaches his hand out, lets Maggie sniff him, and then gives her a scratch.
“I’ve photographed a lot of horses over the years,” he explains. “They’re my specialty.”
Mick positions me and Maggie by the bale of hay, and starts taking some shots. He talks me through each pose and gives me pointers, telling me how to move my face and where to put my hands. Maggie is perfectly behaved, but probably only because I keep bribing her with treats.
“Beautiful,” Mick says, snapping a photo of me and Maggie facing one another. “Now let’s try a couple with you in the saddle.”
I use the fence to mount up, my dress flying behind me as I do. I hear the shutter go a few more times, and know that Mick’s got the entire thing on camera. I just pray that my ass is covered in those shots. I walk Maggie over to the hay bale and pose by it with her, trying my best to look poised and like I know what the hell I’m doing.
The feel of the saddle against my bare legs reminds me of riding as a kid—streaking through the fields in the summer on the back of one of our horses, wearing nothing but a dress or shorts, feeling completely and utterly free, thinking of nothing but the world unfurling ahead of me.
The memory must show itself on my face because the shutter clicks and Mick says, “That’s perfect, Candice. I can’t wait to get some of you and Nathan together.”
My heart races at the thought of posing with Nathan—of being that close to him again. Is that something I can handle right now?
I’m supposed to be letting Nathan go, not getting more and more wrapped up in him.