16. Nathan
16
NATHAN
Normally, I check my email first thing in the morning. But lately, I’ve been ignoring it for hours, afraid to look at the bad news that feels like it’s been coming every day. Brands are dropping me left and right.
So I’ve developed another habit. A really, really bad one. First thing in the morning, I open up my camera roll and scroll through the photos I took of Candice. The ones she posted and the ones I was too afraid to show her. The ones that make it look like someone who really cares about her was on the other end of the lens.
Today, there are four unread emails in my inbox and two missed calls from Amber. I cope by zooming in on Candice’s face as she looks at Maggie, and I memorize the lines of care and trust in her expression. When I started working at Star Mountain, I never expected to see so much softness from Candice. I still call her the Viper, after all. But there’s no other way to describe how she is with her horse: soft and gentle.
I wish she’d let me into her warmth, sometimes. Just for a moment.
I groan and toss my phone onto a pile of clothes in the corner. I’m fucking pathetic. And it must be because I haven’t been laid in a month, at least. That’s far longer than I’ve gone since I started riding competitively. There are always women looking to ride a cowboy.
I get out of bed and head to the bathroom, looking for a bit of privacy in the bunkhouse. I turn the water on in the shower, and wait a few minutes until it reaches lukewarm, which is as hot as it gets. I grip my semi-hard cock and imagine that there’s a gorgeous woman on her knees in front of me, just waiting to suck me down. She looks suspiciously like Candice: blonde wavy hair, black cowboy hat, and brown, bottomless eyes.
I’m a real piece of work—imagining my best friend’s little sister like this. But it’s not like anyone will ever know. So with that thought on my mind, I let myself indulge the fantasy. This time, though, Candice isn’t on her knees, but spread out in front of me, her wet pussy glistening, ready for my hands and mouth and cock.
“You can look, but no touching,” she taunts me. She dips her fingers into her cunt, and starts massaging herself in languid circles, tipping her head back and releasing a moan. “Do you want my cunt? Do you dream about it?”
I stroke myself long and hard. “Fuck yes, sweetheart,” I say.
“Good,” she says. “You’ll never have it.”
Even fantasy Candice doesn’t like me, I guess. She spreads her legs even wider and starts to pleasure herself faster, her pink cunt swollen and needy.
“Let me see you fuck yourself,” I say. “I want to know what that’s like.”
She complies and thrusts two fingers inside, crying out as she does. Her breasts bob up and down as she rides her own hand, and I feel myself close to coming undone.
“I bet you wish you were inside me right now, Nathan,” she says. “I bet you wish your cock was being squeezed by my tight, hot cunt. I’d milk your cock so hard you’d see white.”
For some reason, Candice’s taunts only turn me on more. I must love how much she hates me—how much she makes me work for it. I stroke myself harder, and feel myself start to come. My cum jets onto the shower walls in thick spurts, and in my mind, I imagine painting Candice’s stomach and breasts with it, covering her in me entirely.
I don’t even feel bad about it after I’m done. The image of her in my head looks too fucking perfect to feel wrong.
Working with Candice after spending the morning imagining her naked is a challenge. Every time she explains a training exercise to me or tells me something about Brown Sugar, the words go in one ear and out the other. This makes me feel like a dick, because she has a lot of really insightful things to share with me.
“Nathan!” Her voice snaps through the air. “Where is your head today?”
“What?” I ask.
“I just asked you if you wanted to try and let Brown Sugar off the line again,” she says. “And you just stared at me.”
“Sorry, I’m distracted I guess.”
“By what?” she asks. “It’s just us and the horses out here.”
“You’re right. I need to focus.”
We’re in one of the paddocks today, despite the freezing temperatures. Candice decided that Brown Sugar was still too wary of the training ring, and that there was no use trying to get her comfortable there. At least not right now. Brown Sugar has started to grow her thick winter coat by now, as it’s already late October, and Candice and I are both bundled up. I’ve got my chaps on because the leather keeps me warm. Candice is wearing a navy fleece and a puffy vest, and has layered a bandana under her Stetson. She looks adorable. For a hissing viper, that is.
“We’re going to let her off the lead and see what she does. I think that she’ll bolt, and if she does, what I want you to do is walk around the paddock holding this.” She presents me with a training stick with a flag on top of it. “Wave the flag around, and whenever she turns her attention to you, I’m going to call out to you. Then you’ll stop what you’re doing, to acknowledge that you’ve noticed her.”
“Will that work?” I ask.
“Maybe,” Candice says. “We want to show her that you’re on her side. That you’re paying attention to her and willing to work with her.”
“Alright,” I say.
I unclip the line, and then remove Brown Sugar’s halter. As soon as it’s off, she immediately runs to one corner of the paddock. She starts zooming around us in a haphazard circle, and I start walking with the flag, slowly waving it.
After a few moments Candice calls out, “Stop.”
“What’d she do?” I ask.
“She turned her ears towards you. Let’s go again.”
We continue like that for a while, with Brown Sugar alternating between running, abruptly halting, and trying to get the attention of Nico and Maggie in the next paddock over. Every time Brown Sugar looks at me or even flicks her ears, Candice has me stop.
Eventually, Brown Sugar stops running and slows to a walk. I stop waving the flag immediately, and set the stick on the ground. She looks over at me, and I look back, trying to project confidence and calm. She walks over to me slowly, and I immediately give her a good scratch and offer her a treat from my pocket.
“That was great Nathan,” Candice says, coming over to us. “She’s really warming up to you.”
I try to suppress the grin on my face and play it cool, but I can’t. It comes out in full force as I beam down at Candice. “Beau was right,” I say.
“About what?” Candice asks.
“Beau told me when I started here that working with rescues would be the most rewarding thing I ever did. And he was right.”
“More rewarding than winning belt buckles?” she says with a smirk.
“I haven’t been winning many of those lately,” I mutter, the happiness draining out of me at the mention of competing.
“It was one competition, Nathan, I’m sure you’ll be back on top again,” Candice says, looking genuinely concerned for me.
The part of me that longs to smooth things over, to be the mediator, wants to erase the frown from her face and put her at ease.
“You’re right,” I say cheerfully. “Back on top in no time is my new motto.” The words feel hollow though, especially because there’s definitely more bad news waiting for me in my unread emails.
“Tell me what happened that night,” Candice says, a note of pleading in her voice. “Tell me why you punched Brad. I can tell that you’re not okay and I want to know what’s going on.”
Next to me, Brown Sugar pushes her muzzle into my palm, clearly searching for more treats. I give her one and then turn my attention back to Candice.
“Why do you care?” I ask.
“I don’t,” she says. “It’s just that we work together. We train together. If there’s something going on with you then I need to know.”
“No you don’t,” I hear myself say. I wince immediately, because the words are harsher than I mean them to be. I just— I’m not ready to talk about it yet, especially not with Candice. Maybe with Beau but…Candice will look at me completely differently when she finds out what happened.
“Fine,” she grits out. “I have to go meet Jonah anyways.”
She slips a halter onto Brown Sugar quickly and then marches out of the paddock, trying as always to leave me in the dust. But not this time.
“I’m not done talking to you,” I call out.
“Too bad,” she throws over her shoulder.
I hurry after her and manage to keep pace with her all the way to the barn.
“Where did you learn to walk so damn fast?” I pant.
“I have long legs,” she says. “And you must be out of shape.”
I ignore her snarky comment because an image of those legs of hers wrapped around me fills my head.
“But I wasn’t lying. I really do need to see Jonah,” Candice says. “We have a lot of horses that need new shoes. Including Brownie.”
“I want to meet him, too,” I say.
“Alright, whatever you want.”
I follow Candice further into the stables, where the sound of scraping is filling the air. A man who I assume must be Jonah has Jazz Apple’s hoof between his thighs. Even from here I can tell that he’s not old and he doesn’t have a bald spot. He’s got a full head of hair, and I’ve seen my sister scroll through enough farrier posts on social media to know that a man like him is kryptonite for many women.
Candice waits until he’s done with the hoof he’s working on and then she goes over to greet him. Because she’s Candice, she shakes his hand rather than hugging him, but it’s a warmer greeting than I ever get.
“I’m Nate,” I say, coming up to stand next to her with my arms crossed.
“Okay,” the other man says slowly. “I’m Jonah.” He turns to Candice and says, “As I was saying, I started on Jazz Apple first because Tomás let me know she threw a shoe. But I thought we could do Buckles next, because I’ll need you here to keep him calm.”
“Sure thing,” Candice says.
They talk through the rest of the horses that need work, and then Jonah asks Candice how she and Beau are doing.
“Oh, fine,” she says, a bit sadly. “Things around here are going as well as they can.”
“I miss them,” Jonah says quietly.
Who? The Wilson’s grandparents? Someone else? Why does Jonah know something about Candice that I don’t?
“Me too,” Candice says.
After a heavy moment of silence Jonah mumbles something about going out to his truck to shape a new shoe for Jazz Apple.
“What was that about?” I ask, though I’m pretty certain it was about her grandparents. It would seem Jonah knew them.
“Why are you here?” Candice asks, instead of answering my question. “You’re hovering.”
“I’m interested in everything that concerns the horses here,” I say defensively. “And I want to look at his work before asking him if he can do a new set of shoes for Ballantine.”
Candice rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “Cool it, Nathan. Jonah is the best farrier around and a longtime family friend. And he gives us a reduced rate because he’s nice, so don’t piss him off.”
“Fine,” I say.
I want to tell her that I’ve already sent in two donations to the Star Mountain fundraiser online, and that I’ve got a few more scheduled. It’s petty of me, but I don’t like the idea of another man helping her, in any way, even if he is just a friend. That’s my job.
What? Where the hell did that thought come from?
I need to go for a ride or do something else to clear my head because I’m going insane. My dirty fantasy this morning clearly fucked with my head.
“I’ll, uh, get going then,” I say. “There’s probably a lot that needs doing around here still.”
“Always is,” Candice says, without looking at me.
One step forward, two steps back, I guess.