13. Stick Around
Stick Around
Quinn
I dumped the last of the fresh hay into the goat enclosure, brushing stray pieces off my jeans.
Enzo had given me a list of ranch chores this morning while he, Kellan, and Reid were busy with their kids’ camp sessions.
It felt good to be useful, even if I suspected the guys had given me the easiest tasks on their list.
The events of Saturday night and Sunday morning still lingered awkwardly in my mind. After Kellan had seen me wearing nothing but Enzo’s shirt, with Enzo standing behind me in his boxer briefs, I’d expected... something. Anger? Jealousy? A conversation, at least.
Instead, he’d been buzzing around like a caffeinated hummingbird, dealing with social media, organizing for the influx of business, and talking excitedly about expansion plans without once mentioning what he’d witnessed.
I scratched behind Maple’s ears as she head-butted my leg for attention. At least goats were straightforward about what they wanted.
Guilt pricked at me, but I swatted it away. I was leaving in a few days. This was summer vacation fun. The kind of fun men had all the time without anyone batting an eye. Why should I feel bad about enjoying myself with two attractive men?
Pancake, the baby of the group, skipped over to me with her adorably awkward gait, tilting her head up for scratches.
I knelt down to her level. “You’re the cutest little thing, aren’t you?” She pressed her tiny head into my palm, and I could see why people enjoyed goat yoga now, even if goats pooped pellets everywhere.
Pancake cocked her head at a forty-five-degree angle, her right ear flopping slightly, and something clicked in my brain. That head tilt. Those eyes. The arrangement of cream and tan splotches.
I gasped and swiveled my head toward Butters, who was... not there.
“Butters?” I called, standing and scanning the enclosure. There was no sign of the oldest, supposedly dumbest goat.
The enclosure gate hung slightly ajar, and I stared at it in disbelief. I distinctly remembered latching the gate when I’d entered. I’d even checked it twice.
Maple bleated, unconcerned about her baby daddy’s disappearance. I gave Pancake one last look, now certain Butters was her father. The resemblance was uncanny.
I secured the gate behind me and moved quickly toward the barn, checking behind hay bales and feed bins. No Butters. The chicken coop had been Butters’ target once before, but when I peeked inside, I found only hens pecking at their feed.
A high-pitched giggle caught my attention. Rounding the corner of the stables, I spotted a small girl with pigtails stroking Butters’ head like he was a dog. Butters was leaning into her hand with his eyes half-closed in bliss.
“Hi there.” I approached slowly so I wouldn’t startle either of them.
The girl looked up at me with wide eyes, like she knew she wasn’t supposed to be outside petting a goat. “He followed me.”
“I bet he did.” I grabbed Butters by his collar. “He’s supposed to be in his pen, though. And aren’t you supposed to be with the rest of the camp kids?”
She nodded, looking slightly guilty. “I saw him and wanted to pet him.”
“He is pretty pettable, but we should get you back to the group before anyone worries. What’s your name?”
“Griselda.”
I guided Griselda and Butters toward the side of the stables where the indoor arena was. Before we even got there, children’s voices echoed from inside. Pushing open the door, I was met with a scene of barely controlled chaos.
Nine other children between the ages of five and eight were climbing on hay bales that had been arranged in a semicircle around Tater Tot.
Kellan was attempting to demonstrate how to brush him while Enzo tried to prevent two boys from dueling with grooming tools.
Reid was trying to stop a girl from sticking a piece of straw up the horse’s nostril.
None of them appeared to have noticed a kid had been missing.
And none of them noticed a boy was doing the universal bathroom dance and repeatedly signing “R” in the air. There was no way these men were ready to deal with a child peeing their pants… or worse.
The three cowboys looked up as the door closed behind me. Their expressions morphed into identical masks of silent pleading. They handled thousand-pound animals daily but were completely outmatched by a handful of elementary schoolers.
I let Butters go, and I gestured for Griselda to rejoin the others before nodding toward the dancing boy. “I think someone needs a bathroom break. He’s holding up the bathroom sign most teachers use. R is for restroom.”
Reid followed my gaze. “Oh! Yes, of course.” He jumped up and ushered the grateful boy in the direction of the bathroom.
The remaining children continued talking over each other, grabbing brushes, and generally ignoring Kellan’s increasingly desperate attempts to regain control.
“One, two, three, eyes on me!” I called out.
The effect was immediate. Nine bodies froze in place, their eyes turning to me with the automatic response years of classroom conditioning had instilled in them. “One, two, eyes on you!”
“Let’s make a line against the wall, please.” I used my firm-but-kind voice. “We’re going to take turns brushing Tater Tot, but first, we need to review the expectations for behavior.”
The children shuffled into an orderly line, while Kellan, Enzo, and Reid stared at me like I’d performed a miracle.
I stood at the front of the group, feeling oddly at home even with being surrounded by horses and cowboys. “I’m Miss Quinn, and it seems we need to have a restart so no one gets hurt. I think we would all be disappointed if we didn’t have time with Tater Tot and the other animals today.”
The children nodded solemnly, and I led them back to the hay bales. They sat quietly, and I stood next to Tater Tot. “Our first safety expectation is to always listen when an adult is speaking. It is particularly important here on the ranch.”
I wasn’t sure if the guys had even gone over anything, but judging by the rapt attention of my audience instead of eye rolls or bored expressions, they were engaged. “The second is to never walk behind a horse. Even the gentlest horse might get startled and kick.”
A little boy raised his hand enthusiastically and started talking before I even called on him.
“My cousin got kicked by a horse, and he had to go to the hospital, and they gave him popsicles even though it was his leg that got broke not his mouth. I thought they only gave that when they cut out your throat because it hurted too much.”
“That’s exactly why we’re learning these rules,” I redirected without missing a beat. “Next up, we always speak to a horse before we touch them so they know you’re there.”
“Miss Quinn?” A girl shyly raised her hand. “My cat likes when I scratch behind her ears. Do horses like that too?”
“Great question!” Kellan jumped in, stepping beside me with an ease that suggested we’d done this together a hundred times.
“Horses do like being petted in certain spots but it depends on the horse. You should always ask the horse’s owner before you pet them, like you should with a dog.
Let me show you where Tater Tot likes to be petted. ”
He moved closer to Tater Tot, who stood like a mountain of patience. Kellan demonstrated proper petting technique on his flank. “Nice and gentle, like you’re petting a... what’s something delicate?”
“A butterfly!” called out a little girl with glasses.
“A bubble!” suggested another.
“My grandma’s skin!” offered a boy in a Spider-Man T-shirt.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing while Kellan nodded seriously at all these suggestions. “Yes, exactly. Gentle like all those things.”
Each child who wanted to, came up one at a time to pet Tater Tot before returning to their seats.
Reid moved quietly among the children, kneeling beside a shy girl who seemed hesitant to approach the horse.
His gentle voice coaxed a smile from her, and he guided her hand to touch the horse’s nose.
The transformation on her face from fear to wonder was magical.
From behind the group of kids, Enzo observed us.
His arms were crossed, stance wide, but his expression wasn’t stern like I’d expected.
Even under the shadow of his cowboy hat, there was an intensity that made me very aware of him.
His dark gaze followed my movements as we moved on to how to brush the horse.
The children took turns brushing Tater Tot under our supervision, forming an orderly system that seemed to surprise the men. Occasionally, I caught their exchanged glances, and their raised eyebrows and subtle nods communicated silent relief.
Tater Tot, living up to his reputation, stood with supreme tolerance as the kids brushed his coat, some more coordinated than others. At one point, he released a tremendous fart that echoed through the arena, sending the children into peals of delighted laughter.
“He’s smiling!” shouted a boy, pointing at Tater Tot’s pulled-back lips.
“He is.” Reid patted the horse’s neck with affection.
When I glanced around at the three men, it wasn’t just relief I saw on their faces.
There was admiration there, a kind of respect that made me stand a little taller.
And beneath that, something more complex flickered in their gazes that made my pulse quicken in a way that reminded me I was more than the walking disaster who’d stumbled onto their ranch.
Later that afternoon, when the kids were all gone and the arena was empty, I focused on a course of jumps Kellan had arranged.
My muscles tensed as I approached the first small hurdle.
I leapt, holding tight to Thunderbolt, clearing it easily and galloping on with exaggerated bounces, my boots kicking up arena sand.
I’d been at this for nearly half an hour, using physical exertion to quiet my mind. It wasn’t working, and my thoughts were spiraling into far more complex patterns than my jumps.
Enzo’s hand on the small of my back as we’d danced. Kellan’s fingers tangled in my hair in the hot tub. Reid’s eyes watching from the window and the intensity of his gaze even from a distance.
What the hell was I doing? I’d come to this ranch to learn about horses after winning that ridiculous hobby horse competition. Instead, I was collecting cowboys like they were limited edition Beanie Babies or Labubus.
I cleared another jump, stumbling slightly on the landing. I should call April. She’d laugh her ass off at my predicament, but she’d also have advice. Probably terrible advice, but advice nonetheless.
My rhythm faltered as I pictured my inevitable departure. The thought of leaving made my chest ache in a way that terrified me.
I’d known these men for less than a week. This wasn’t like me. I was practical, responsible, the kind of woman who didn’t jump into bed with strangers.
“Shit.” I realized I’d missed my approach to the next jump. I tried correcting too late, lifting my legs to clear the hurdle, but my boot caught the edge.
The world tilted as I pitched forward. Thunderbolt flew from my grip, skidding across the dirt as I tumbled ungracefully to the ground, landing with a grunt on my hands and knees.
“Quinn!”
The shout came from every direction at once.
I sat back on my ass, the arena’s dust still swirling around me.
Kellan appeared at the rail, vaulting over with his face drawn tight with worry.
Reid jogged in from the main stable aisle, Walter bounding at his heels, while Enzo stepped out of the tack room, rag in hand.
Great. I’d managed to summon all three of them with my incompetence.
“Are you okay?” Kellan reached me first, dropping to his knees, his hands moving over my arms, searching for injuries.
“I’m fine, just a bruised ego.” Embarrassment heated my cheeks. “What were you all doing? Watching me?”
Enzo crouched in front of me, his eyes scanning my body. “Did you hit your head? Any dizziness?”
I shook my head. “No. I tripped and landed on my hands and knees.”
Reid knelt beside me, his presence calming. He didn’t bombard me with questions, just settled a solid hand on my shoulder. Walter sniffed at my boots with concern.
I felt ridiculous surrounded by three gorgeous men all because I’d fallen off a stick. “I’m fine, really.”
The concern on their faces slowly melted into relief, then into something more complicated. An awkward silence stretched between us, filled with unspoken words.
I became acutely aware of Kellan’s hand still on my arm, Enzo’s knee brushing mine, and Reid’s steady presence at my side.
Enzo’s gaze flickered to mine before dropping to the ground. “You were amazing with the kids today.”
“You saved our asses.” Kellan’s thumb traced small circles on my skin. “You should stick around for a few more weeks.” The usual playfulness in his voice was replaced by something earnest that made my stomach flip.
Reid, still kneeling quietly beside me, finally spoke. “It feels right having you here.”
My heart twisted with the way they looked at me with hope and vulnerability. I opened my mouth, though I had no idea what to say. No one had ever looked at me like these three men were looking at me now.
Before I could formulate a response, Reid’s brow furrowed slightly. “But every cabin is booked solid. If you stay, we’d need to figure out where you’re going to sleep.”
I should say no. I should grab my stick horse, drive back home, and forget this whole fantasy.
Walter nudged my hand with his cold, wet nose, making a satisfied little grunt when I stroked his head, his tiny body vibrating with happiness.
Happiness.
I was happy here. I wasn’t wallowing. I wasn’t overthinking my future. I was proudly prancing around an arena on a stick horse with three men cheering me on. It would only be for a few more weeks until Marisol was able to work, and then I’d go back to dealing with reality again.
I looked up at Reid, then over at Kellan and Enzo. “I’ll stay.”