Chapter 15
Lacey
“I need to name her.” I whisper to myself when I clip the lead rope back onto the filly.
Give her a strong name, Lace.
I hear my dad’s voice whispering in my head. He always said the name you gave a horse should honor them. Though he picked some odd names at times, he always told me they fit the horse’s personality. I can see him cheesing at me now, hand on his hips, and telling me to keep pushing on.
There’s no way to prepare yourself for not having your parents anymore or their guiding hand. No more phone calls or hugs. Sometimes I feel like I am forgetting his voice; it’s been so long since I have heard it.
“Give her a strong name, Lace.” I hear the words again; this time they are right behind me. Chills run up and down my arms, tears prick at my eyes, and a hand goes to my shoulder, a tight squeeze begs me to turn around.
My eyes meet Beckett’s, a soft grin on his face, “The name you give a horse should honor them and their strong will. It should match their personality.”
A tear escapes my eyes, and his hand moves up to catch it before it falls. “Beckett . . . how much of my daddy did you know?”
“He was the man who raised me, Lace. How would I not know what he would tell you right now?”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “Since all the guys are still asleep, mind helping me with morning chores?”
I don’t know why I asked, but his company this morning has been pleasant, and I find myself wanting to be around him. As long as my brother stays in bed, it won’t be that big of a deal for him to help me and earn his keep on this ranch that is now his too.
“Absolutely.” He grins, turning and walking toward the gate and holding it open as the filly and I walk through.
“Do you remember how things are done around here?” I ask him with a teasing smile.
He nods, “Let me guess, nothing has changed.”
“Nope.”
“Good to know you inherited your love of routine and control from your father.”
I laugh. He is right about that; Holden Taylor was not one to make changes around here often.
Entering the barn, the filly’s hooves echo through the hall as they click on the pavement.
“What do I name her?” I ask Beckett once I take her halter off, and he closes the stall door once I am out.
“That’s up to you, Lacey.”
I huff, “I don’t know enough about her yet.”
“Then don’t rush it, take time to get to know her and her personality. For now, just call her filly.”
I nod; he is right I don’t have to rush this. I don’t have to rush any of this—my grief, too.
“Lacey, do you need help?” A voice comes into the barn and stops mid-stride as he sees Beckett. “Beckett.” His voice is sterner this time.
“Briggs.” Beckett is cold back.
“Boys . . .,” I get in the middle of the two men.
Briggs puts his hands up in surrender, “No issues here, Lace. Right, King?” he raises an eyebrow at Beckett.
All he does is nod.
“Good. Now let’s get some chores done, boys.” I grin.
* * *
Beckett
An hour later, I have thrown off my shirt—no telling where it is, and my jeans are full of water from carrying buckets to the outdoor stalls, pens, and pastures where the water hose won’t reach.
The summer sun has taken over, beating us down with its rays.
The cool of the morning air has officially gone and is nowhere to be found.
I have not sweated this much since I last worked on this farm. I thought I was in shape, but damn I think I might have a heart attack if I keep this up.
Lacey though, she has made every step Briggs and I have—outworking us with every stride.
This woman is a force to be reckoned with. She has every ounce of strength of her mother and her passion for this ranch is all her father.
And her love for these animals? I have watched her all morning making sure every animal she came into contact with felt her love.
Those lucky four-legged bastards don’t know how good they have it here with her.
I get into the barn just in time to see her struggle to pick up a bucket of water off the back of the Ranger that Briggs filled up and before I can jog to get it for her, it pours all down her front. Her hair, tank top, and pants are soaked, giving me a view of her wet cleavage and glistening skin.
“Shit!” Lacey squeals.
“Should leave the heavy stuff to the men,” I laugh, walking up.
“Shut up,” she sneers. “Shit, I need to change but I don’t want to wake Carson up.”
“Come on, you can use the cottage.”
She eyes me curiously, “I don’t think that is a good idea.”
I laugh, “What are you implying?”
Her cheeks blush. “I saw the way you looked at me at the church,” she winks at me jokingly.
I lean into her, my lips close to her ear, “And what way was that?”
She gulps, “Like you wanted to devour me.”
I smirk down at her. “I did, but that was before I knew who you were.”
I can’t really understand the look she is giving me now—but she almost looks disappointed.
“Come on,” I grab her hand and lead her towards the cottage with me. “You can lock the bathroom door, so no older men look in on you.”
I give her a small wink, forcing my eyes to keep their sights above her nose and nowhere below. This time she rolls her eyes, making me chuckle. “Old men are perves.”
I gasp. “Who are you calling old?”
“So, you are agreeing you’re a perv?” she winks, leaving me speechless.