CHAPTER SIXTEEN #2
I shake my head. "I hate to tell you this, but switching from romantasy to cowboy romance isn't likely to increase your chances of finding a real man that can match up to a fictional one written by women."
"Psh," she tsks. "Stop trying to ruin my fun and go find me a new cowboy to model with when I come to town in two weeks."
Actually, that's not a bad idea. "Alright. I'll see what I can do."
We end our call and I close the laptop, sliding it into the kitchen drawer I've dedicated to small office space. I've created little nooks like this all over the house. It's helping me squeeze work in here and there while always being where I need to be for the kids.
Right now, they're both in the living room, cozied up on the sofa snacking on apples and cheese while listening to an audiobook.
Another blend of routines we're trying out.
Time before dinner used to be a little appetizer of fruit and yogurt while they sat with Lena as she read them a book.
Taking over that spot from her felt too much like I was trying to replace her, but I didn't want them to miss out on story time either. Hence, the audiobook. So far, so good.
Plus, it gives me a few extra moments to juggle work and dinner, the only thing I've brought to the household I actually feel confident about.
Cooking is a skill I honed early on out of necessity and grew to love out of practice.
Having the chance to prepare meals for all three of us has been bittersweet.
Much like it felt when I did for our family of three before.
Well, I guess it's a family of four now.
He doesn't join us for dinner, but I make it a point to bring Jovi a plate to the barn. And by that, I mean I send the kids with a plate. Either way, I make sure Jovi gets at least one homecooked meal a day.
The room he set up for himself out there may meet his most basic needs, but there's no kitchen, no way for him to prepare a meal that didn't come out of the mini-fridge or his makeshift pantry cubby.
And maybe scraping by on next to nothing is in total alignment with his 'don't give a shit about my life' attitude, but it doesn't work for me.
I give a shit.
For purely selfish reasons, of course.
Because I need him.
For the ranch.
For the kids.
And that's all.
JOVI
"Thanks for riding tonight," I tell Cas as we walk the barn aisle together.
Casper Hayes has been a regular face around here ever since he arrived with his horses at the beginning of summer.
"Temperance can use the practice. She's getting lazy only going on the trails for exercise.
" It's not been without benefit though. Given the mare's skittish nature, riding her in unfamiliar terrain that's unpredictable but safe, has gone a long way in helping her settle.
She occasionally still gets spooked by the most random thing, but at least I've gotten her to the point her reactions aren't dangerous to her or her rider anymore.
"Of course, man. It'll give me a chance to see Hunter in action," Casper says, throwing the saddle he’s been carrying over the side of Temp's stall.
"Watching you work him in the round pen's got me excited to see how he'll do in the arena where it counts.
" He rakes a hand through his shaggy dark brown hair, pulling it back from his eyes. It’s not as long as mine, but still long enough to get in the way and catch errand strands of hay in it.
Like it does the second Temp lifts her muzzle to it, sniffing him, mouth full of alfalfa.
He chuckles before reaching back to pat her neck.
“You know you’re the only one she does that too,” I tell him, reaching Hunter’s stall and unlatching the door.
“She must like my shampoo,” he counters, still laughing quietly.
“I think maybe she has a little crush,” I tease as I lead the gelding out into the aisle to groom him before I get him tacked up for tonight.
Of the three horses Cas brought to Serendipity for training, he’s been the most challenging.
Thus, the most fun. "And Hunter's got a stubborn streak a mile long, but I think we're making good progress in our communication. "
The stocky quarter horse has been fun to work with. He's smart and usually wants to do his own thing. Earning his respect, making him want to work with me, is exactly the kind of work I used to love doing with horses.
"Your sister bringing your boy out tonight?
" I ask, looking over to find him having a quiet exchange with the mare I convinced him to ride tonight.
Not that it took much to get him to agree.
Cas has been rodeoing since he was thirteen, a respected contender in the circuit, he dropped out unexpectedly last year when he found out he had a son.
A son who'd been placed in foster care after his mother up and disappeared on him.
Wyatt is five, putting him smack in the middle of Gavin and Remmi, and I've invited Cas to bring him out on more than one occasion. He's new in town, bought himself a patch of land not too far from Serendipity to keep cattle on.
The horses he brought here for me to train will be his main workforce until he expands enough to hire on help.
Much as he's been part of this world, he's been a bull rider.
He knows his way around horses, and has been quick to pick up roping, but he's spent next to no time training the animals himself. Hence, why he sought out Trent.
"She said she'd be by in time to see me ride, but she wasn't sure how long she'd be able to stay," he runs a brush over Temperance's neck.
"Tell her to find me," Liz's voice turns my head toward her without thought. My body follows directly after. "I'll be there with Remmi and Gavin. We're happy to have Wyatt join us until you're done riding."
Cas nods, an appreciative smile taking shape on his face. Cas is the quiet sort. In sound and sight. His words never tell much and his expression even less so. He'd be hard to read if I didn't see the way he is with the horses. Or his son. "Thanks," he says. "That'd be really great."
"Of course." Liz's smile is soft, unusually so, and something unpleasant pinches in my chest at the sight.
At seeing it directed at someone else. Doesn't matter that I know why she's offering.
Because Cas isn't so different from us, his challenges all too familiar.
And his sister, who's been helping out as much as possible, can only juggle so much alongside her own life.
As an ER nurse at the local hospital, her hours are long and consistently switching from day to night.
Often, she's caring for Wyatt when she ought to be sleeping.
Still, now would be a good time for Liz to stop fawning over him. He's a great dude and I certainly respect how he's stepped up to the plate as a father, but I don't see why he's so worthy of that smile when most of our interactions end in one of her scowls.
"You need something?" I ask, tone rougher than I intended.
Her head swivels toward me. Yep. That's the scowl. "I'm not allowed to come out here without a reason?"
"Allowed?" I scoff. "You can come out here any damn time you please.
You just don't." After that first weekend when our lives collided out here, she took up the task of keeping our lives as separate as possible.
Fine, maybe I tried to set some sort of bar for boundaries when I started knocking at the front door, but I still wanted to come in.
She hasn't ventured into the barn once. Outside of our regular check ins and coming to rodeo nights as our photographer, she only texts when she needs to and sends the kids out for everything else. The only shared space we really have is the laundry room. It may be part of the house, but I can access it from the car port. Not once in the months we’ve been living here have we collided in there.
"You asked me to take pictures," she reminds me.
"We don't start for another hour," I point out. "Riders aren't even set to arrive for another thirty minutes."
Her nose twitches. "Which is why you really ought to stop and eat now." Her hand lifts from where it's been tucked at her side, and it's only now I notice she's holding a glass container. "I made curry mac and cheese." She shakes the container at me. "We had leftovers."
I frown, slowly reaching out to take the food. "Curry mac and cheese?"
She nods. "Don't act like you've never had it."
Then she wrings her hands for a painful moment of awkwardness before she turns on the ball of her foot and marches out of the barn without another word.
Silence stretches on for an uncomfortable amount of time, and I can feel Cas trying not to stare at me while I stand here, frozen, like a fucking idiot.
"What's curry mac and cheese?" he asks, breaking the strange stillness.
"This concoction I came up with when I was a teenager and leftovers were a constant means of survival in my house," I start to explain.
"One night, I threw together a bit of cheesy mac from a dinner earlier in the week, along with a serving of peas from another and side of spinach from the day before.
Then, because my siblings were appalled with the absolute ruination of a classic staple, I threw in a shit-ton of curry.
Told them it was a specialty. Prepared the way they would at the fanciest of restaurants.
It became a favorite after that. Anytime I had the regular plain dish outside our own kitchen, I'd toss curry on it, at the very least."
I smirk, looking down at the container. "Liz called it an abomination the first time she saw me defile the meal she'd made."
I had no idea she remembered that. Can't fucking believe she made it for the kids. For me.
"What's the deal with you two, anyway?" Cas asks, picking up where he left off brushing out Temperance's coat. Then he pauses, "I mean, if you don't mind me asking."
I set the glass container down on the haybale sitting in the aisle outside Hunter's stall, waiting to be dispersed at the next feeding, before I get back to readying him for the work ahead.
"Don't mind you asking, but there really isn't much to tell.
" I shrug, dropping to a squat to wrap the gelding's legs.
"Her sister was my best friend's wife. We've all known each other since we were kids. And she's hated me the entire time."
"I don't think that's hate, brother," he says with a chuckle. "Pretty sure hate doesn't come to the barn offering a home cooked meal made especially for you."
I shake my head. "Liz does everything backwards.
Trust me, she can hate me just fine and still feel like it's her job to take care of me.
" Much as she would tell you otherwise, she's a caretaker down to her bones.
Doesn't know how not to show up for everyone.
Doesn't have it in her to see someone go without.
The fact I benefit from that soul-deep part of her is no more than a byproduct of the years I spent proving to her that I couldn't be trusted to care for myself.
"Guess this whole situation is pretty complicated, huh?" he says, and I can hear him tossing the brush back into the grooming bucket before he picks up the saddle from where it's been waiting for him. "Both of you needing to rely on each other for the greater good of the kids."
I haven't told him the whole of it. How much is riding on the ranch turning enough of a profit to not only sustain itself but pay off the mountain of debt left in the wake of expansion. But he knows enough. Knows the kids need her like the horses need me. That one is dependent on the other.
"The kids make it simple," I say.
He nods. "They always do."
We carry on in silence after that and before long, we're walking the horses out of the barn in time to meet the first truck and trailer pulling up. I recognize the blue Chevy before I can make out the logo on the side of the truck. Kitterman Ranch. Which means the driver is none other than Brennan.
"Think he brought the same mare from last week?" Cas asks, a crease forming between his brows.
"Likely." The horse has an aggressive streak harsh enough to have me thinking about banning horses that exhibit certain behaviors from the event. "Probably trying to work some of those bad habits out of her."
I'm usually the first in line to take on a horse that's written off as dangerous or untrainable, but whatever drives that mare to act out it isn't fear or boredom, as is often the case when a horse takes up biting or kicking out.
The mare is straight-up mean. And it isn't just the riders that have to mind their space around her. She lashes out at the other horses too.
"Evening, boys," Brennan calls out as he climbs out of his truck. "Ready to have your asses kicked tonight?"
The rodeo is meant for practice, but we still keep time and announce winners at the end of the night.
We've even started handing out prizes for each event.
Things that cost us nothing but still provide value.
A few hours of using our arena. A free training session with me.
Forty-eight hours of horse boarding for people who want a weekend off. That sort of thing.
Adding the prizes has done more than add a little extra fun and incentive for those showing up to ride, it's been good for business too.
Free training has led to three new clients.
Use of the arena has turned into offering up certain days and times for open use and people have been quick to schedule their time.
Especially with the weather slowly changing, having a space that's sheltered from the cold and wet has been invaluable to a lot of riders. Much as it was a risky investment, Trent was smart making it. If I can continue to bridge the gap for a while, it could pay off tenfold in the long run.
"I think Temperance and I are going to give you a run for your money," Cas says, but it's clear he's humoring him, engaging for the sake of being polite.
I'm about to throw my own comment in the mix, some lighthearted shit talking about how Hunter is ready to show everyone up, when Brennan's attention shifts. "Liz going to be around once things get started?"
Every muscle in my body goes tense. "She hasn't missed a rodeo night yet," I remind him.
"Expect that to change after tonight." He flashes me a smile I want to punch right off his face. "I have a proposition for her and a good feeling she'll say yes."