Six #2
“Rude boss,” she teases, and reaches toward the top of the fridge for coffee grounds. “Why don’t you wait a second for a cup of coffee. It’s the least Mr. Miller can do since you’re all one man down today.”
“Unless you want to help,” Wesley mutters as he pivots toward the coffee pot on the edge of the counter. He pulls the pot off the burner and fills it with water as his jaw ticks.
“You know me,” Roe says, slapping the coffee grounds down next to Wes. “I do not wish to work.”
Despite himself, Wes lets out a breathy chuckle, one corner of his mouth curling upward. “So, would you like a cup, Cass?”
“Oh.” My stomach swoops at the sound of my name on his lips. I’m certain it’s my anxiety. “Sure,” I say.
“I’ll be out of here soon.” Roe leans a hip against the counter, folding her arms across her chest and leaning toward Wes. “I have a date with Mom, and we know she won’t like it if I leave her waiting, but I won’t make it without caffeine.”
The coffee pot spits liquid as Mud’s tail thumps next to me. I take the opportunity to pet him behind the ears again, which he seems to like.
I have to admit the coffee sounds good since I haven’t slept much.
Don’t get me wrong, I slept hard last night, but my coma-like sleep did nothing, considering it only lasted about five hours.
I’d stayed late at Lennon’s, and with how early I have to get up to make the drive out here, I didn’t get what I needed in terms of rest.
I can’t wait to move into the house so I don’t have to get up and make the forty-minute drive.
Wes fumbles with a few cups, procuring three old, chipped mugs. Before the coffee is even done brewing, he pours some into each cup and hands me mine. The warmth seeps into my palms.
Roe shuffles past me, grabbing a glass jar of sugar from the cabinet before taking the jug of milk from the fridge. “God, Wesley, you need to get some better accommodations. No creamer?”
“This isn’t a hotel,” he gripes, sipping his coffee black.
The hot bean water steams up toward my face as I look at it. I don’t usually drink my coffee black. I’m more of an as much sugar as you can get kind of girl.
Desperate times, though. I can’t go being a problem on my second day.
I’ll drink anything.
“Would you like some milk and sugar?” Roe asks.
I practically shove my cup toward her. “Absolutely.”
After enjoying our cups of coffee, I started checking off the list of tasks Wes wrote on the whiteboard in the lesson barn—the worst, by far, being scrubbing the trough at the back field. It had sat unused for the past few months, and I definitely found a dead bird in there.
I need to add a good pair of work gloves to the list.
I’m not sure where Wes went off to as I sit at the table in the office, picking grapes out of a plastic bag.
Maybe I should be more concerned about the environment and start packing my lunch in glass-only containers. If I’m working on a farm, I might as well lean into the granola girl aesthetic.
When the door opens, I startle, dropping a grape on the concrete floor and watching it roll towards a curious Rory.
“No!” I say, scrambling off the chair to grab the food before she can get it.
Wesley pauses, watching my mission. It’s a nice show, considering I fed her a few pieces of turkey from my sandwich earlier.
I’m not sure how he’d feel about that, to be honest. It’s best I keep a no-human-food policy when the boss is around.
However, Rory deserves all the treats. I’ll just have to be sneaky.
“You comfortable holding a horse for me?” he asks. No greeting. Just straight to business.
I start to question how he and Roe are even related. If it weren’t for the same cheekbones, I’m not sure I’d clock the relation. Wesley is a man of few words who seems to like privacy, whereas Roe seems to leave it all in the open—even her bare nipples—apparently.
“That depends,” I say, now standing. “What will you be doing to said horse?”
“Breeding her.”
My eyes widen, and I quickly fix my face, but Wesley seems to have caught my reaction.
“You ever bred a horse before?” he questions, and I’m suddenly thankful this wasn’t part of the interview.
“No. I just worked at a lesson barn growing up. I’m sure I can hold a horse, though.” Maybe.
“Good time to learn, then,” he says, nodding toward the door. “You’ll pick up on it fast. I’m assuming you haven’t worked with foals, either. That’ll be coming here soon.”
When he starts moving, my body jolts as if kick-started by a motor. I toss the grape in the trash and follow him out the door. Rory trails behind me as I work to keep up with Wes’s longer stride. When we get to the golf cart just outside of the lesson barn, he looks back.
“Hurry,” he scolds, and I walk even faster before finding my spot next to him on the cushioned bench of the cart.
He flips a switch and rests his hand on the steering wheel, turning with his elbow propped up on the seat to back out of our parking spot.
When he whips the golf cart around, I grab onto the front of the cart, trying to steady myself.
The grass ripples with a gentle breeze across the field.
Horses graze, and I soak up the bright blue sky.
Everything looks more vibrant out here—more colorful.
I don’t know if it's the way the grass grows better in the spring, or if it’s just my eyes playing tricks on me.
Either way, the world feels brighter than it did a few months ago—than it has for a very, very long time.
Yellow dandelions pepper the yard as the cart kicks up gravel. I go with the motion of it, content to observe.
I wonder if Gus would want to come out here with me. Maybe meet the horses.
When I was younger, I’d often attend my lessons alone. It was too difficult to maintain any consistency with how often Gus was in and out of the hospital. That, and my parents always treated him as if he would break the second he got near a horse. I’m sure he’d like it out here, though.
When we stop at the second barn at the base of the hill, Wesley hops out, grabbing a white box from the back of the cart and adjusting the cowboy hat on his head.
“This way,” he directs.