22. A Simple Truth
A Simple Truth
Quinn
I clutched my phone, staring at the confirmation email like it might vanish if I blinked too hard. I was now a confirmed participant in the Western Regional Hobby Horse Invitational.
The strange part? I wasn’t even drunk when I filled out the application. There was no alcohol-fueled decision-making. No post-breakup spiral. Just me, fully sober, choosing something ridiculous that made me happy.
Something that felt like... me. The real me. The me I’d forgotten existed.
Nervous energy coursed through me as I slipped my phone into my back pocket. I needed to tell the guys. They’d get a kick out of this, especially after watching me practice nearly every day.
I grabbed my hat and headed out toward the stables. The afternoon sun beat down, making me grateful for the shade of my hat brim as I walked the familiar path.
The ranch smelled like hay and horses and that earthy scent that had somehow become comfort in such a short time. I reached the stables’ entrance, expecting to find the guys working, but slowed my steps when I heard their voices drifting from the tack room.
“She handled that group today like she’s been running camp for years.” Reid’s voice, unmistakable in its quiet appreciation.
“Well, she is a teacher.” There was a quiet laugh that could only belong to Kellan. “I wouldn’t have thought to do stick horse relays, but the kids ate it up.”
“Marisol texted. She’s cleared to come back next week.” Enzo’s tone was tinged with some emotion I couldn’t place without seeing his face.
Kellan let out a breath. “Good. That’ll take the pressure off Quinn. She’s been doing everything.”
“Yeah.” Enzo’s voice trailed off as if he was unsure. “I don’t want her to feel like she has to stay. She didn’t sign up for all this.”
Did they not want me to stay?
My feet stopped moving like they’d been glued to the floor. He wasn’t cruel or even wrong. Their discussion was matter of fact, like deciding on feed schedules. It was a simple truth I’d been trying to ignore.
I was temporary.
These men were permanent fixtures in each other’s lives. They were lifelong friends, business partners, and family in all but blood. And I was the woman who’d blown in on a hobby horse and would eventually blow back out.
I backed away silently, my earlier excitement deflating into something small and uncertain. The competition notification on my phone suddenly felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket; a reminder that everything here rested on borrowed time.
Just like my failed engagement had been.
My throat tightened as I walked away from the stables, veering off toward the fence line where the horses grazed. I leaned against a post, watching Tater Tot meander through the tall grass with his massive frame moving in that gentle giant way of his.
What was I doing? Soon I’d be back in my classroom, teaching seven-year-olds. These men had lives that would keep spinning without me. They had horses to train, fences to mend, and a business to run.
I pulled my hat lower over my eyes, which were now filling with tears.
Why was I even surprised? It wasn’t like we’d discussed any future beyond my vacation. I came here for a week, decided to stay a little longer, and now what? I’d been entertaining some fantasy where I never left? Where I somehow slotted into their lives permanently?
I pulled out my phone again, staring at the competition notification. In three weeks, I’d be prancing around on a stick horse in front of judges and spectators. Would Kellan, Reid, and Enzo even want to come?
A sharp whinny cut through my thoughts as Junebug trotted over to the fence, her dark eyes fixed on me like she understood every confused thought in my head.
“Don’t give me that look.” I reached out to stroke her velvety nose. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
Junebug huffed against my palm.
“Okay, I’m lying. But what did you expect? That I’d move in with three cowboys and live happily ever after? That’s not how real life works.”
Except nothing about this situation was how real life worked.
People didn’t just win hobby horse competitions that sent them to ranches.
Elementary school teachers didn’t end up in relationships with three men who ran said ranch.
Breakups didn’t lead to intense sexual awakenings with multiple partners.
Yet here I was.
Junebug pressed her head against my shoulder, surprising me again with her gentleness. For a horse that Reid claimed had attitude issues and was dangerous, she seemed to understand exactly what I needed.
I ran my fingers through her mane. “I should talk to them. But how? ‘Hey guys, I know I’m supposed to leave soon, but what if I didn’t?’ That sounds desperate.”
I was hit with conflicting emotions. I’d spent so much of my life playing it safe and following rules. I usually made practical choices, which had led me straight into the arms of a man who’d cheated on me and then blamed me for it.
Maybe it was time to stop playing it safe.
Junebug chuffed, practically blowing my hat off my head with the force of her exhale. I steadied the brim with one hand, laughing as her breath ruffled my hair.
A throat cleared behind me, and I jumped, nearly losing my balance.
My traitorous heart recognized the sound before my brain did, sending a rush of warmth through me even as embarrassment flared up my neck.
I steadied myself against the post and took a calming breath before turning around.
I’d been so wrapped up in my one-sided therapy session with Junebug that I hadn’t heard footsteps approaching.
“Should I be jealous?” Reid stood a few feet away, hands tucked into his jeans’ pockets, his lips curving into a half-smile that always made my stomach flutter.
I regained my composure and stroked Junebug’s nose. “She seems to like me better than you.”
Reid approached cautiously, and I noticed Junebug’s ears flatten slightly. “She usually only likes me.”
“She appreciates my lack of expectations.” I watched as Reid tried to reach toward her, only for Junebug to pull her head away.
Reid crossed his arms, studying us both with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “She’s fixated on you.”
I ran my hand along Junebug’s neck, feeling an odd sense of pride at this special connection. “I should try riding her sometime.”
Reid’s expression shifted instantly from relaxed to alarmed. “You should absolutely not.”
“Why? She loves me.” I wrapped my arms around Junebug’s neck and pressed my cheek against her hide. “Don’t you, girl?”
“Junebug is unpredictable and has thrown riders with decades of experience.” Reid took a step forward, his brow furrowed with concern. “She’s not safe, Quinn.”
As if understanding his words, Junebug’s head snapped toward Reid, teeth bared in a flash of warning that made him jump back.
My mouth fell open. “Did she just snap at you?”
“Yes.” Reid blinked several times, looking puzzled. “She did.”
“There’s no way she understood what you said.” I glanced between them, an absurd referee in a human-equine disagreement.
“Horses understand more than you think.” Reid kept a careful distance now, eyeing Junebug with new wariness. “But that was unusual.”
Junebug pressed her nose against my shoulder again, completely docile with me. The contrast between her behavior toward Reid versus me was so stark it was almost comical.
“Maybe she’s trying to tell us something.” I scratched behind her ears, earning a contented huff. “Like that you should let me ride her.”
Reid ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends slightly. “I’ll have to think about it. We’d need to work up to it. Start in the arena with a lead line. Test her responses.”
“I get it.” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance while testing the waters. “It’s not like I’ll be here that much longer anyway. Probably better not to let her get too attached.”
The words hung in the air between us, heavier than I’d intended. I hadn’t meant to bring up my impending departure so bluntly, but there it was, the awkward truth wedged between us like Junebug herself.
Reid’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly, the kind of flicker in his eyes that I might have missed if I hadn’t spent so much time studying his face when he wasn’t looking.
The sun beat down on us, highlighting the fine lines of concentration across his forehead.
Even Junebug seemed to sense the sudden tension, her ears flicking forward then back as she nudged my shoulder again, as if urging me to fix what I’d broken.
Reid nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s probably smart.”
My heart sank. No protest, no suggestion that I should stay. Just agreement that keeping a boundary between Junebug and me made sense because I was leaving.
I swallowed past the lump forming, trying not to let my disappointment show. “Well, I should probably go finish up some things.”
Reid stepped closer, careful to stay out of Junebug’s strike zone. “I wanted to remind you about tonight.”
“Tonight?” I blinked, momentarily distracted from my gloom.
“Our date.” His smile returned, softer now. “The four of us.”
The fluttering in my stomach returned full force. “Oh, right.”
“You didn’t forget, did you?” Reid’s eyebrows raised slightly.
“No! I...” I hesitated, realizing I still had no idea what the men had planned. “No one has told me where we’re going or what we’re doing.”
Reid’s smile widened to a devastating grin. “That’s because it’s a surprise.”
I glanced down at my dusty jeans and sweaty T-shirt. “Am I supposed to dress up? Because right now I look like I’ve been rolling around in the paddock with the goats.”
Reid’s eyes traveled down my body and back up in a slow appraisal that sent heat creeping into my cheeks. “What you’re wearing now is fine.”
“This?” I gestured at my decidedly unglamorous outfit. “You can’t be serious.”
“Maybe change your shirt to a fresh one and bring a light jacket.” Reid started backing away, the smile never leaving his lips.
“Reid Dawson!” I called after him. “Where are we going?”
He tapped the side of his nose and continued walking backward. “Six o’clock.”
I huffed in exasperation as he turned and walked away, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
Junebug nickered softly beside me, as if she were laughing too.
I patted her neck. “Well, at least I don’t have to stress about what to wear.”
But that left me with more time to stress about everything else. Where were we going that my current outfit would be appropriate? A hayride? Cow tipping? Some weird cowboy ritual involving fence post inspection?
And more importantly, why was I overthinking this so much? This wasn’t my first time alone with these men. We’d already been intimate in ways that made my cheeks burn thinking about it.
Yet somehow, an official date felt more significant than all of that. More intentional. And intention implied a future, which was something that apparently none of them were considering.
I gave Junebug one final pat and stepped back. “Wish me luck, girl. I have no idea what I’m walking into tonight.”
As I headed back toward the house to shower off the day’s dust, I tried to quiet the voice in my head that kept asking the same question: If they knew I was leaving soon, why bother with a date at all?
Unless they were planning to ask me to stay? Or this was a nice send-off before I returned to real life.
Either way, I had a few hours to settle my nerves before finding out what the evening held. I hoped my heart would survive whatever they had planned.