Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Prescott
It’s Saturday morning, and Dr. Small, the vet, has agreed to meet me at Haven’s place, and Haven okayed it.
I have to get out there early before he returns from doing chores or whatever ranchers do.
If he’s there too, then I’ll be hanging out with him, and the idea of that sends too many thrills through my belly.
I pull into my normal parking spot by the barn and get out. It’s another gorgeous summer day with a few clouds and a slight breeze. The faint smell of cattle and manure doesn’t bother me like it normally does. I’ve been out here enough that some memories stay in the background.
Haven has Meadow with him on a leash by the fenced-off pasture next to the barn.
My traitorous belly clenches.
A horse stands in front of them, its tail swishing. The puppy runs back and forth, then she stops and sits. Haven digs in a pouch he’s hooked to his belt and gives Meadow a treat.
My heart turns into a puddle. He’s done a lot of training with Meadow if she’s listening so well around such a large creature. I’ve seen her around the chickens, and she’s curious, but she doesn’t chase around the pen. Tan didn’t get that memo yet, but he got pecked and has since laid off.
Haven scratches the horse’s neck and turns when I approach. “Morning, Red.”
His words warm me faster than the sun shining overhead. “Good morning.” Meadow’s tail is going wild, and I stoop to pet her. When I rise, Haven’s scratching under the horse’s chin. Great. I’m jealous of these things again.
“Who’s this?” I can be polite. The man is housing my rescues, training the dog, still caring for his livestock, and working a full-time job.
“Gravy.” The gelding snuffles and stretches his neck out like he thinks I have goodies for him. “No treats for you, Gravy Train,” Haven murmurs to him, “or Dr. Small is going to think she’s here for you.” He pats Gravy’s neck. “This guy likes his goodies, but goodies don’t like him.”
Gravy’s still trying to sniff me, and I’m a sucker, so I move in closer. Large nostrils puff my hair, and I pat his neck. “I’m a sucker for goodies too.”
Haven smiles. “You like horses?”
“I’ve always loved horses. I just also resented them.” Why do I get diarrhea of the childhood trauma around him?
“Silas rode bulls.”
I snort. Rumor has it he rode anything.
“Some other reason?”
“No,” I say on a sigh. “It’s basically that. The life. Horses. Bulls. Steers. Even the mutton-busting sheep. He loved it all so damn much.”
Here I go, spilling more. And he’s listening.
His understanding reactions only make me want to say more.
At the distillery, he shared a part of himself instead of getting irritated that I contradicted his love of silence with my love of noise.
My heart has been hammered the last five years, and he just healed a part of it.
After this vet visit, it’s going to take at least a week to convince myself I don’t want to find out what Huckleberry Springs has to offer.
Yet I can’t force the words back into the recesses of my mind. I want to talk about it. I scratch up and down Gravy’s slender neck. He’s also a sucker for attention.
Same, Gravy. Same. “When I was little, it felt like I either had to go riding to talk to him, or do all the chores the guys were too hungover to do in the morning. I hauled bales around and fed and watered the pickup horses and groomed them, and I’d do it just to have some time with Papa.”
“And you hardly saw him if you weren’t on the road with him or at one of his rodeos.”
The back of my throat burns, but I swallow past it. “Easy conclusion to make, isn’t it?”
“All too common, from what I’ve heard over the years. A lot of guys that I cowboyed with told the same stories. I only heard their side.” He squints into the sun. “Never did much agree with it.”
Is that why he does the opposite? Rather than hurt someone, he keeps his distance? If what Papa says is to be believed. But I’ve given guys too much credit before.
His warm gaze brushes across me, licking along my skin. “Have you ever gone horseback riding for fun? ”
I frown. “Yeah. I mean, it was fun.”
“But you were always left disappointed because the real outcome you wanted was time with your dad. What about riding for the sake of riding?”
I shrug, trying to recall all the times I’ve been out on trail rides or circling the arena for fun. I was trying to get my dad’s attention. Nothing more. “Not really, I guess. I think I was last on a horse when I was twelve? So, twenty years ago.”
His grin is instant. “Then let’s go today. After Doc is done, we’ll take Gravy here and his buddy Biscuits out?—”
“Biscuits and Gravy? Are you serious?”
As if he heard his name, the other bay lifts his head from where he’s been grazing.
Haven scratches up and down Gravy’s neck again. “Would you believe it’s a coincidence? I got them separately.”
I giggle, lighter than I’ve been for…years. “No, I wouldn’t, but Biscuits and Gravy sounds good for two working horses.”
He leans on the fence post. “I don’t work ’em too hard. I was just thinking I needed to get them saddled up for more than rounding up cattle.”
“For them or you?”
“No wrong answer.” The grin he flashes blazes right to my stomach, and the swirl of awareness is as inconvenient as always. I should be used to it after as much Haven exposure as I’ve had.
A dusty pickup rumbles down the drive, and a dark-haired woman a little younger than my dad waves her hand out the window.
“That’s the doc. So whaddya say, Red? Up for a ride?”
Haven
“Do you think Meadow’s doing okay?” Coppery curls flutter around her head. The horses are walking through the pasture side by side. The swish of the grass against their legs is the loudest sound out here, mingling with the horses’ breathing and occasional nickers.
“She’s just fine.” She’s secured in my entryway so she doesn’t chase after us and get tired, or get under a hoof. The dog is smart and learning fast, but she’s still less than three months old.
“Do you really run home and let her out for bathroom breaks?”
“What’s the perk of being my own boss if I can’t have puppy visits in the middle of the day?”
“You like her.”
“It’d be weird if I hated cute puppies.”
“Sure.” Her smile is pure daylight. When she wiggles in the saddle, I repress a groan. I’d love to ride a few feet behind her and enjoy the flare her hips make when her legs are spread, but that’s for another time. Or a never time, since fucking with the gorgeous redhead is only asking for regrets.
Given when she said she last rode, she’s now thirty-two. Six years younger than me. Prickly Miss Prescott Keys has a lot of reasons to resent being in Huckleberry Springs, but she didn’t run away after Dr. Small finished with all the immunizations and exams.
“You should’ve let me pay.” She doesn’t look at me when she says it .
I took a risk, knowing that she’d get upset when she learned I’d asked the vet to charge me. “It’s a ranch expense.”
“But they’re rescues.”
“They’re working.” My brothers won’t care, but they might give me shit about doing it for Prescott. It’d be wrong not to.
“Well, thank you.” She said it before, and it’s still just as begrudging now. She keeps her attention straight ahead. “It really is beautiful.”
“Yes, it is. I’ve seen this view a million times, and I want to see it a million more. There was a time I thought I’d never lay eyes on it again.” And it’s infinitely better with her in it.
“You grew up in town, right?”
“In the house I’m living in.”
She twists to squint at me. “The same house?”
“Mom ran off right after I was born. Three young boys? She couldn’t do it.” Prescott frowns, but I keep going. “So it was us and my dad, and it was nice.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say gruffly. “We’d hunt and fish, and then at night, Dad would watch old movies with us.”
“I haven’t done any of that.”
“Seriously?” When she nods, my chest gets tight. I had a great childhood. My brothers made sure of it. She was let down in hers. The experiences I listed were simple. What if I did them with her? “Red, we’re going to have to change that while you’re in town.”
“Old movies?”
All of it. “We’ll make a rule. They have to be from before we were born.”
A smile plays along her lips. “Fishing? ”
I’ve hooked her. “The Stillwater is right over there.” I tip the brim of my hat toward where the land slopes down into the valley, a copse of trees filling the distance. “Be a shame not to use it when I know some good spots. The best one is by the distillery.”
“And hunting?”
“That one might be a little harder.”
“I don’t like killing things.” She holds up a hand, but I wasn’t going to argue. “I get the idea of hunting. For food. I know it helps keep local wildlife populations healthy. I even like the idea of tromping through the woods. I just don’t want to kill something.”
“I have to admit dragging a kill back to the pickup is a pain in the ass too.” I’m not going to leave any opportunity to spend time with her on the table. My brothers say I’m like Mom sometimes. Here I am, making bad decisions for myself. “Old movies and fishing. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I…”
I’m pushing too fast. “The weather’s supposed to be perfect for some fly-fishing. I was planning to go anyway, and I have an extra set of waders.”
I planned to start cutting hay, but it’s not supposed to rain all week. Haying can wait. Prescott won’t.
She chews the inside of her cheek. “Doesn’t seem fair that you’re showing me stuff I’ve never done, and I’m not doing the same for you.”
So she’s willing, but she doesn’t want to feel like she’s only taking. I can work with that.
Why is this so important to me?
I’m enjoying my morning. My days since I’ve met Prescott have been lighter. Brighter. I go to work and do all the same things I’ve done, but…there’s something to lo ok forward to now. Not just figuring out what’s going into the whiskey bottle wedding favors or joking around with the guys.