5. Candice
5
CANDICE
Watching Nathan clean a stall is satisfying, especially after the spat we had last night. He’s wearing what looks to be a brand-new pair of Wranglers, cowboy boots that haven’t seen enough mud yet, and I even caught a glimpse of a shiny belt buckle. Nathan might have grown up on a small ranch, but he’s clearly lost track of his roots. That, or he just gets enough free jeans and boots from sponsorships that he never has to wear the same pair twice.
“Admiring the view?” Jenny asks, coming to stand next to me in front of the barn office. Nathan is currently mucking Nico's stall, and he’s not doing a great job of it.
“What? No,” I say. “I’d never admire Nathan.”
“Sure, whatever,” Jenny says, rolling her eyes. “Just because you hate him doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate what’s right in front of you.” She rounds her hands and motions like she’s grabbing a pair of invisible ass cheeks.
“He’s all yours,” I say, knocking my hip into hers. If Jenny wants Nathan, then she should go after him. “Though I don’t know if he’s exactly relationship material.”
“That’s fine,” she says. “Not looking for a relationship. It’s too difficult with Lila, and I don’t want her to get attached to someone who isn’t sticking around. Besides, he’s not for me.”
I’m about to ask her why not, but then I see Nathan dump nearly an entire bag of wood shavings into Nico’s stall.
“One sec,” I tell Jenny.
“This is going to be good, I can just tell,” she says, and follows me for a few paces so she can listen in.
“Here to comment on my work, boss?” Nathan asks, standing up fully and leaning against the stall frame.
Not for the first time, I hate how tall he is. I’m 5’9, but Nathan still towers above me. He looks like something out of a damn boot ad, posed like this. When I muck, I look messy as all hell.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” I say. “You’re using too many shavings.”
“No, I’m not. Horses need clean bedding once a?—
“Nathan, I am perfectly aware of how often horses need clean bedding seeing as I manage a barn full of them. But Nico is pretty tidy and I added a bag a few days ago, so you probably don’t need to add that much more.”
“Well, I already did.”
I consider asking him to put the shavings back in the bag and sort through the ones he’s already cleaned out.
“Just sift through them more carefully next time.” I don’t add that shavings, like everything else a horse needs, are expensive, and that I have the amount we need for the next month calculated down to the last bag.
“Fine,” he says. “But you’re being too particular. You’ll never catch a man with that attitude, Candice.”
That blow lands squarely against my chest, probably harder than Nathan meant it to.
“Well, lucky for this lonely girl,” I say, emphasizing the last two words to remind Nathan of how much of a dick he was to me last night, “I’m not looking for a man.”
Nathan doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. He just stands there with his hands in his front pockets like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Fuck it, I think. “Redo Nico’s stall. Sift through that pile again, and put some of what you’ve already dumped out back into the bag.”
I turn on my heel and walk back to the barn office. Jenny stops cleaning the saddle she was working on while eavesdropping and follows me into the office.
“What the hell was that about?” she asks, flinging herself down in the seat across from me. We’ve spent many a night in here, gabbing, gossiping, and drinking whiskey from the stash under my desk.
“What part?” I ask, wishing it was acceptable for me to have some of that whiskey right now, even at nine in the morning.
“The part where he said you’d never find a man and you acted like that was something he’d said to you before?” Jenny lifts one delicate, red eyebrow at me.
I sigh, because I know that she’s not going to like the answer to that. “Last night I showed Nathan the bunkhouse and we got into an argument. It ended with him telling me that I’m nothing more than a lonely girl with hay in her hair.”
Jenny screws up her face in anger. “I am going to bust his fucking balls.”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I basically called him a misogynist and told him he sees women as nothing but pieces of ass.”
Jenny whistles. “Good. But why exactly do you hate him so much, Candice? I talked to him earlier and he seemed fine. A flirt, but fine. A bit too charming for my taste, but perfectly nice.”
“Nathan Booth is anything but nice.” I glance at the clock on my desk and am relieved that my appointment will be here soon. Saved by the bell. “I’ll explain another time,” I say. “I’ve got someone coming by to talk about the adoption process and meet the horses.”
“Aw, I know we’re supposed to want them to get adopted, but I hate it when they have to leave. Who’s ready to go right now?” Jenny asks.
“Probably Nico, Jazz Apple, and Bubba if they want a pony.”
“Lila’s heart will break if Bubba leaves,” Jenny says wistfully. Lila is still a bit young to ride at three, but she loves Bubba with all her heart and we’re hoping he’ll be around for her to take lessons on when she turns five.
Not for the first time, I wish I could keep them all. Every single horse who comes to Star Mountain. If I had endless money, I probably would. At least the senior horses and the ones with special needs, like Nico. He has a wry nose, which is a facial deformity that causes issues with eating and breathing.
“Maybe a millionaire will donate money to us,” I say wistfully.
“Give me five minutes with Nathan and I’ll be able to get you everything in his wallet,” Jenny says with a wink.
“I’m already robbing him in boarding fees.”
I leave the barn office and head out front to meet my appointment. Everyone who wants to adopt a horse from Star Mountain has to visit us in person at least once. We like to make sure that the horses will be good fits for their forever home, and vice versa.
A man in sneakers and jeans is standing by a pickup truck.
“Hi, I’m Candice Wilson,” I say.
“Bill Thompson.”
We shake hands and Bill lets out a low whistle. “You’ve got a grip on you,” he says.
“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that, Bill,” I say with a straight face. “Anyways, why don’t you follow me to the stables, and while we walk you can tell me what kind of horse you’re looking for.”
“It’s for my daughter,” he says. “She’s been riding for a while now and me and the wife think it’d make a good birthday present.”
“That’s nice. How old is she?”
“Just turned fifteen. So she’ll do some of the work looking after the horse herself.”
We head into the barn and down one of the aisles. Most of the horses are turned out at the moment, but I had Tomás bring a few back in so that Bill could meet them.
“That’s great,” I say. “Exactly what I did at that age. Will she board the horse?”
“We think so,” he says.
Well, that’s good. I’m always wary of first time horse owners keeping the animal at home. And besides, horses are herd animals and they need to have friends. It’s not right to keep them alone.
“Great. I have a couple horses who would be good for an intermediate rider.” We pause in front of Jazz Apple’s stall.
“What’s his story?” Bill asks.
“She,” I gently correct, “was rescued from someone who just couldn’t afford to look after her anymore. They voluntarily surrendered her to us, which is great, because they did it before she got too sick or starved. I trained her myself for a few months, and she’s a great school horse. Solid, good tempered, and only nine years old.” I reach out and give Jazz Apple a few pats, and she blows air through her nostrils.
Bill takes a step back. “I’ll be honest, I have no idea what that means in horse age.”
“It means she’s not a baby anymore, but also isn’t too old.”
I walk over to Nico’s stall next. “And this is Nico.” He pops his head over the door and immediately starts lipping the edge of my sweatshirt sleeve.
I look at Bill, waiting for his reaction, but he doesn’t have one. Some people might sneer at a horse like Nico, and it’s good that Bill hasn’t.
“He’s got a facial deformity called wry nose,” I say. “He may not be suitable depending on how often your daughter wants to ride, as it does affect his breathing. But he’d be great for trail rides and has the best personality.” It’s the same speech I give everyone about Nico, and I’m holding out hope that someone decides to adopt him.
“That’s really nice,” Bill says. “But I was looking for a horse my daughter could start barrel racing on. She started on barrels two years ago and just loves it. Do you have any ex-barrel racers?”
Brown Sugar’s sweet face flashes through my mind.
“No, we don’t,” I say a bit coolly.
“Well, maybe Jazz Apple would work? If she’s a good school horse then maybe she could learn the pattern as my daughter is always calling it.”
I think about Jazzy, with her sweet temperament and her desire to please. She’d learn the pattern if she was asked to do it but I have no idea if Bill’s daughter would ask nicely. Would she just end up like Brown Sugar, an anxious mess?
“We don’t have any horses here for you,” I say, making my decision. “Not if it’s a barrel racer you’re after.”
“But—
“Jazz Apple won’t be suitable for barrels.”
“Alright, well, let me know if any other horses come up who might work.”
Bill looks a bit crestfallen, so I lie through my teeth, and say, “Sure thing, we’ll keep you in mind.”
He makes his way back through the stables and out to his truck, and I turn to Nico and rub his face right in the spot where he likes it most. Behind me, someone clears their throat.
I turn and find Nathan staring right at me, arms crossed, with a steely look in his Wrangler blue eyes.