Chapter 3 #2
Laken had a strong build, solid and broad like Dallas and Wilder’s, from years of throwing feed bags over his shoulders and tossing around hay stacks like they were nothing.
He always moved with an ease to his steps that directly contradicted the kind of work we did here.
Hard manual labor went hand-in-hand with stout gaits and harsh movements in order to keep from fucking up the body beyond repair.
Despite all of that, Laken had a certain grace about him that I hadn’t seen reflected in anyone else. Maybe that was the artist in him coming through.
“Nothing,” I said innocently. “Just wondering.”
“Uh huh.” When he glanced up from his page, he squinted at us both and held out his pencil to measure. “Well, for your information. I happened to get all of my shit done today at a reasonable time. So, I’ve got some hours to kill. Figured I’d come see what trouble you were making up here.”
I grinned. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’re free tonight to take me out to that 18+ bar.”
He rolled his eyes. “You still on about that?”
“You can’t tease me with a good time and not expect me to remember.”
Truth be told, I wasn’t exactly looking to go out to get served under the table all night until I was too shit-faced to sit up straight.
While I had no doubts Laken would haul me back to the ranch and deposit me into my bed so I could catch a few hours before being forced to wake up and nurse my hangover for the rest of the morning, I actually was looking to do something completely different.
As in, find someone to take me home and get off for a few hours.
Working all day with my body had gifted me with an entirely different exhaustion than I was used to.
It drained me and left me feeling ragged by the time I climbed under my sheet and passed out until my alarm went off right before dawn broke.
However, none of that had done anything for my, unfortunately, very healthy libido.
As a sprightly nineteen year old, I still had a lot of energy in me.
Plus, Wilder was kind of driving me nuts.
There was no reason for my boss to be looking that good twenty-four seven.
“Ryder’s going to want to come with us,” he replied.
I shrugged. “Fine with me.”
We got along famously, too. Not as spontaneously as Laken and I, but I still liked the guy well enough to know he’d probably help wingman me if I needed the extra solidarity. Usually, I had no problem finding a guy interested but this was Texas and sometimes things got a little weird.
He snapped his sketchpad shut. “Let’s go see where that loud mouth’s at with his chores.”
Taking Pelly along with us, we walked her back to the stables.
I kept her to my right and Laken on my other side, not wanting to sandwich her between us and make her more nervous than she probably already was having another person so close.
Without knowing what her story was before coming to the ranch, I had a suspicion she’d been mistreated severely by ranch hands.
Her nervousness when being handled made those fears quite obvious. She’d clearly been trained in some capacity because she took to the halter well enough, but anytime someone tried to approach her with other forms of tack, that was what sent her panicking in the opposite direction.
I felt horrible for her, as I did with the other horses the ranch had in its care that Wilder had picked up from those auctions.
Whatever their stories were, I hoped they found peace here for the rest of their days.
Coming up to the stables, I tightened my hand around Pelly’s lead, using it to tug her along with a soft click of my tongue against the back of my teeth.
Her ears perked as she allowed me to guide her in through the doors, her hooves making a gentle clomping sound against the packed ground.
Laken stayed over by the doors as I set Pelly back up in her stall and gave her a fresh pail of water and restuffed her rack with hay.
“You did so good today.” I grazed my palm along her shoulder a few times as she dipped her head to pull out some of the hay and mash it between her teeth.
Maybe she wouldn’t be the champion barrel racer Wilder’s concerned expression had wagered when I last talked to him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be taken out every once in a while to do laps around those bales. It was good stimulation anyway—
Shit. The bales.
I slapped a hand to my forehead. Laken had distracted me into totally spacing about dragging them back to the storage port like I’d promised Wilder I would.
Since he was done for the day, I could probably talk him into helping me roll them back up here, maybe rope Ryder in, too, once we found out where he was.
Slipping out of Pelly’s stall and locking it back in place, I jogged over to Laken. “Say, you got any energy left to help me drag those hay bales back up here?”
He shot me a look. “You’re kidding. Those weren’t already out there?”
“If I said ‘pretty please’ would that convince you not to lecture me?”
“No.”
“What if I buy you a drink tonight?”
“You’re literally eighteen.”
“Nineteen,” I corrected.
“Oh, big difference.”
I shoved him out of the stables. “Come on. Any more bitching and you’re going to sound like Ryder.”
He laughed and threw an arm over my shoulder. “Touché. Can’t have that be my reputation.”
“It’s already taken, anyway. I don’t think you could compete.”
“True.”
Rounding the corner of the building and taking the path up toward the bunkhouse, I let my mind wander again.
Maybe it was poor decision making to be going out when we were going to be getting up early tomorrow and I was simply digging myself into a hole that I was absolutely going to hate having to crawl out of the minute my phone woke me up out of a dead sleep.
Then again, during the six and a half months of working here, there never seemed to be a ‘proper’ time to head out into town for a night of rest and relaxation. You either had to suck it up and deal with the consequences or be okay with not having a life outside of this place.
For now, I was more inclined to choose the first option. Staying on property for months on end was kind of giving me the itch to go.
Without warning, Laken grabbed the back of my shirt and hauled me against the side of the riding arena. My shoulder slammed into it, though not hard enough to cause any blinding pain, just enough to annoy me slightly.
Turning to him, I opened my mouth to ask him, “What the fu—”
“Shh,” he whispered quickly, holding a finger up to his lips that silenced me instantly. He jerked his head toward the next corner closest to us, letting go of my shirt to inch forward while keeping quiet.
Voices picked up on the other side, familiar.
“—that’s not the point.” Sully’s voice was tense, a hard edge to it that I wasn’t at all used to hearing.
“Well, what else was I supposed to do?” another one snapped. “That horse was out of control.”
“That doesn’t mean you have the authority to take matters into your own hands, Carter.” Wilder’s voice.
Carter.
I nearly groaned.