6. Lennox
lennox
. . .
Four Months Later
“Fucking piece of shit,” I cursed, tugging at the rusted bolt lock on the gate. I’d told Dad we needed to replace it for months, but did anyone ever listen to me? Nope. They sure didn’t, and now the stupid thing was stuck.
I stepped back, hands on my hips, scrutinizing the gate.
My horse, Strider, stood beside me, munching on some grass.
He lifted his head, huffing in annoyance.
“What?” I asked, turning his way. The bastard had been judging me all afternoon.
He was ready to be back in the barn with his friends and was pissed that we were still at least three miles from home.
“Please feel free to step in anytime if you think you can do a better job.”
He just stomped his feet and went back to eating, leaving me to figure out how I was going to do this.
It didn’t help that it’d rained last night. My boots slipped in the mud each time I pulled on the stupid gate. I’d nearly fallen on my ass three times in the past five minutes alone.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I muttered, moving forward and tugging again. My hands ached from the rusted metal. I’d forgotten my gloves in the barn this morning and was too proud to turn around to get them. “Why won’t you just?— ”
“Need a hand?”
I stilled at his voice, turning slowly to scowl at the man looking down at me.
Usually, I was attuned to his presence. My internal warning bells began ringing whenever we were within ten feet of one another.
It had come in handy over the past few months since I’d vowed to ignore Bishop Bryant until the day I fucking died.
The universe had given me a lot over the course of my life, but keeping me from going there with the man in front of me was probably the greatest opportunity of all.
But here I was, fussing over a stupid gate instead of paying attention to my surroundings.
The only good thing about that infuriating man showing up was seeing his massive gelding, Titan.
He looked mean as hell, just like his owner, but he was a softie with a penchant for sweet treats at the end of the day.
“No,” I said, crossing my arms. “And if I did, it wouldn’t be from you .”
Bishop looked up toward the darkening sky. “There’s another storm rolling in. Think you can get it open before that happens? Or are you gonna be showing up to dinner like a soaked rat?”
“Thank you for the weather report, Captain Obvious,” I said, giving him a mock salute. “This wouldn’t have been an issue if Dad had replaced the gate like I told him three months ago.”
“And just like I told him and you, there are more important things to spend money on. We needed patches done on both the barn roof and the enclosed arena. Thankfully, he listened to me.”
“Oh yes,” I said sarcastically, “the mini fridge and brand-new coffee maker were a necessary purchase. They were very valid.”
“Hey, your dad bought them because of the boys working so hard during the clinic,” he said, laughing. “Who am I to turn away free gifts? Seems a bit rude.”
My hands curled into fists at my side. “Dammit,” I cursed at a bite of pain, bringing my palm up to examine it.
I’d cut it this morning moving some old barbed wire.
I hadn't even realized I'd done it until I felt blood drip and looked down. I had no choice but to crudely wrap it in a clean strip of cloth I’d torn off my t-shirt.
“Where the fuck are your gloves?” Bishop bit out. He dismounted Titan and stormed over, taking my hand in his. “What’d you do?”
I ripped it back, holding it close to my chest. “I left them in the barn this morning. It’s fine.
” I’d cleaned the cut the best I could and re-wrapped it when I stopped for lunch, but it wasn’t a great job.
I knew better than anyone how important it was to take care of your hands when working.
Dad was going to chew my ass out for not being more careful.
It was something he’d drilled into us as kids, or at least tried to.
Bishop pointed in my direction. “Doug’s gonna have your ass for this. How long has he been telling you to keep a spare pair of gloves in your saddle bag, huh? You know the rules.”
He needed to get out of my head. “Oh my god, crypt keeper. I don’t need a lecture.
I just need this damn gate open. So, if you could go ahead and ride away into the sunset, preferably to never be heard from again, that’d be great,” I said, turning my back to him.
I started forward, really hoping I wasn’t about to slip and fall on my ass, when I was suddenly lifted off the ground.
“Let me go, you cockbag!” I yelled, kicking my legs out to no avail.
He chuckled, setting me down beside Titan before walking to the gate.
“It’s not gonna budge!” I called out, running my hand along the gentle giant’s forehead when he leaned into me.
I looked over at Strider, who watched me lazily.
“ Traitor ,” I muttered. “You couldn’t warn me he was coming? ”
“Wanna bet?” Bishop asked, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his ink-covered skin.
Smug asshole. I hoped he couldn’t do it, even though I knew he likely could. Bishop, much to my dismay, was a mountain of a man. Every inch of him was muscle, sculpted by hard work on the ranch that kept him crossing my path like a pesky horsefly.
I tried looking away, turning my head toward the open fields surrounding us, but failed miserably.
The moment he gripped the latch and pulled, he let out a groan that sent goosebumps cropping up along my skin.
His weathered tan chaps framed his ass perfectly, drawing me in.
I was no better than a man, gawking at something that was never mine to have.
“I can feel you staring, killer,” he said, peeking over his shoulder. “Should I be worried about you taking that little knife hanging from your belt and stabbing me with it?”
I pretended not to look his way, staring at the thick grime beneath my nails instead. “Killing you would be too much effort, and you’re not worth it. Honestly, I don’t see how your big ass head can fit inside your hat. Why would I be staring at?—”
With one final tug, the bolt came flying off.
Bishop flailed, trying to catch himself on the gate, but failed.
It filled me with a stupid amount of joy when he landed flat on the ground with a thud.
His breath whooshed from his lungs, followed by a string of curses so foul I reached up to cover Titan’s ears.
Not Strider, though. That traitor could fend for himself.
Bishop pushed to his feet, glaring over at me as I bent forward, laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes. “Shut your fucking mouth,” he said, craning his neck to check out his mud-covered ass. He strode forward, ripping open his bag in search of something to clean up with.
Spoiler alert: Unless he had a portable shower I didn’t know about, he’d be riding back to the barn in mud-caked jeans. The thought brought me more joy than it should have.
I wiped beneath my lashes. “I take it back. I’m so grateful for your help,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “Not only do I get to go tell Dad we need a new gate, but I got to watch you roll in the mud like a pig. Best. Day. Ever. ”
“I didn’t roll around in the mud… I fell. There’s a damn difference, and you know it.” He pulled a small towel from his satchel, trying to clean himself up.
“Is there?” I asked, walking backward toward the gate. I needed to tie it to the post to keep it open so we could drive cattle to the next pasture on Monday. “Because from where I’m standing?—”
Except, suddenly, I wasn’t standing. I was falling, landing on my ass in the giant puddle of mud Bishop created because karma was a bitch.
“Standing, you say?” he boomed, heckling me in a way only he and the voice in my head could do.
The sound of his laughter might as well have been nails on a chalkboard for how it got under my skin.
I had half a mind to march over and push him back down, making sure there wasn’t an inch left clear of mud.
But that would only get me thinking about what it’d been like to have the full force of his attention on me, and I didn’t want to go down the road again.
“Will you get out of my fucking head?” I called, pushing to my feet. God, I felt disgusting. Mud clung to my clothes from the waist down, dripping in wet, sloppy puddles at my feet. Riding like this would be shit, and unlike Bishop, I didn’t have a towel in my bag.
Bishop held up the offensive item. “Need this?” he asked, taunting me by waving it in the air. “I’ll be nice and share with you. I think a couple of spots might be dry… ish .”
“No thanks, gramps, I would rather soil my saddle than accept your help,” I muttered, walking over to Strider and mounting up. His ears twitched, excitement sparking in his black eyes when he realized our work was done here.
Bishop put his boot in the stirrup, swinging his leg over Titan’s back.
The pair of them were almost impressive.
Both were ridiculously large and imposing—broad-chested and easily towering over anyone who stood too close.
It was always funny to watch brand-new hands gawk up at them on their first day.
However, sometimes, it was annoying how they revered him like he was God’s favorite cowboy.
Bishop worked his ass off, don’t get me wrong, but so did all the workers we employed.
I think his overall take-no-shit attitude and ever-deepening scowl made people see him as more powerful than he really was.
“Don’t be like that, killer,” he said, bringing Titan next to Strider. “You don’t have to hate me, you know.”
I held my hand up. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Bish. I know I don’t have to do anything. I hate you because it’s enjoyable, because I have fun getting under that thick skin as much as you do.” I adjusted myself in the saddle, blowing out a breath.
I clicked my tongue, letting my spurs graze Strider’s flank. He loved to run and he was born to do it. It made us a great team on and off the circuit. Before Bishop could respond, Strider and I took off, leaving him behind.