Twenty-two
TWENTY-TWO
Tag
I crept down the hallway, careful not to wake Bea. I wasn’t used to other people being in my space, so taking the extra time not to wake her slowed me down a little in the mornings. Usually, I barreled through, crashing and banging. Now, I navigated around the loudest floorboards.
Didn’t help that she left her door wide open.
It baffled me that she was comfortable enough to do that. I locked my bedroom door at night. In my own house. And that right there proved the major difference between the two of us.
I hadn’t seen her since we talked in the garage. Whether I was ready to admit it or not, the undeniable truth blinked like neon. I liked her company. A lot. And when she wasn’t following me around, I wished she was.
Stupid .
I tried to push her out of my mind and get to the fields. I could think straight out there with the dew soaking the bottom of my jeans and the leather of my boots.
I flipped on the kitchen light.
“Good morning!”
A string of profanity flew out of my mouth as I jumped backward.
Bea stood there, squinting in the new light. She was leaning against the counter top with a cup of coffee cradled in two hands. She had the white skirt and tank on, hair tied so sloppy and high, it added a good three or four inches to the top of her head.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
She clutched her stomach and thunked her mug on the counter so she wouldn’t spill it. Soft, breathy shakes of laughter spilled out of her. “I’m—so sorry. Your face was—priceless.”
“You scared the crap out of me.”
She wheezed. “I can see that.”
“ Why was the light off?”
She dragged a finger under her eyes. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Why are you even up this early?”
“I’m your new ranch hand.” She pulled one of my yellow bandanas out of her back pocket and rolled it into a thin strip against her thigh. She started tying it around her forehead, brown eyes not leaving mine, daring me to stop her.
“Where did you get that?” Usually, I’d have trouble talking this much, this early. But Bea took care of that by scaring the crap out of me.
“Dryer.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m working today!”
“No, you’re not.”
“Then you are going to have one very useless, very annoying shadow.” She finished the tie and put her fists on her hips.
A chuckle came out of me, despite the adrenaline still thumping through my veins. She might be useless, but annoying? I didn’t think that was possible.
She spun around and grabbed a granola bar off the counter and a bag of grapes. She would’ve slammed the food against my chest, had I not reacted quickly to her offering, catching her hands. “I know you don’t drink coffee, but all I found was decaffeinated black tea.” She waved toward the electric kettle with a grimace. “I boiled water in case you want some of that. ”
“Don’t mind if I do.” I stepped toward the kettle and grabbed a mug, making my ritualistic cup. She watched, nose wrinkled in disgust the entire time.
She opened a nearby cabinet. “Sugar?”
“Don’t need it.”
“You don’t sweeten your tea?”
“Nope.”
She made a blech sound. “No caffeine or sugar? What’s the point?”
“Warmth.” I wrapped my hands around the mug to drive my point. Then I lifted a shoulder, explaining on. “I used to drink it caffeinated. Became a comforting habit, I suppose.”
“You don’t need the blessing of caffeine? I can’t wake up without it.”
“Well—” I stammered, carefully considering what to say. I took Prozac to control my panic attacks and allowing caffeine into my diet made my anxiety skyrocket. It took some trial and error to figure out that my sweet spot was staying on the Prozac and kissing caffeine goodbye. At least I could function now and wasn’t collapsing every other day.
Even though I’d made peace with the way things were, admitting I was medicated was out of the question. I fumbled through a response best I could. “I—uh, caffeine makes my anxiety worse. I…avoid it if I can.”
“Oh. That sounds hard.”
“I’m used to it now.” I shrugged.
“Does sugar make your anxiety worse, too?”
“No, I’m just not much of a sweet tooth.”
Speaking of meds, I needed to take them before I headed out for the day. But I didn’t want to with Bea right there watching.
She opened her bag of grapes and popped two in her mouth.
I said, “Head to the porch and I’ll be there in a sec. Really beautiful this time in the mornin’.”
“Okay.”
Once she’d closed the door behind her, I took my meds then joined her.
True to her word, Bea followed me. Due to my workload, I ran at top speeds, but she was a relentless shadow. She seemed to understand I didn’t have time to talk, so although she asked a few questions here and there, she mostly watched as I went through the morning feeding routine on autopilot. We started at the pastures, dumping alfalfa into feeding troughs and mixing up a few morning meds and pellets for the ones with specific needs. Every time I stopped the truck, Bea climbed out too, grabbed a square of alfalfa from the bed and said, “Who gets this one?”
It hurt my pride to see her working, but she was set and determined. Short of jerking the hay out of her hands and tying her into the passenger’s seat, there wasn’t much I could do but point her to the right trough.
When the truck’s headlights washed the last pasture in light, Bea laughed. The four horses in that one were already waiting, heads over the fence. “Look at them! They are so happy!”
So far, Bea hadn’t tried to touch the other horses, which was a good thing. A lot of them, my broncs especially, were comfortable around people but a little moody. And with a new person first thing in the morning, you never know.
Bea hung back from the fence, clutching the alfalfa, a little intimidated by their eagerness and excited nickering.
I waved her closer, a smile inching onto my face. “These are worthless teddy bears. I promise they won’t hurt you.”
“Worthless?”
“Big time.”
“Why?”
I tossed two squares into the feed bowl. “I bought these two”—I pointed to a painted gelding and a speckled mare—“together off a feedlot to try and train them. But neither one of ‘em are athletes. Too slow and lazy. They do decent trail riding, but that’s about it. Mainly just eat and cost me money and time.”
“Why not sell them then?”
“‘Cause they’re some of the sweetest horses I’ve ever met. My pets, I guess. And the other two belong to Jesse and Cade.” I beckoned her. “Come here.”
The morning light had pushed away the darkness. A warm glow settled over the ranch, and Bea’s smile, full and radiant, greeted the morning. She beamed as she stepped forward.
I took the hay from her and chucked it into a bowl. Only one had stopped to eat. The rest waited, impatiently bumping into each other, hooves stamping the ground.
Praline was reaching with his snout, trying to span the distance between himself and Bea.
“Lift your hand and let him smell you a bit.”
She did. Praline touched his nose to Bea’s palm and her hand slowly slid up his face and between his ears. He lowered his head over the fence, giving her access to his mane. She rubbed down his neck with a soft, breathy awww. “Tag, he is so cute.” Her voice was tender and raised about an octave. Just edging on baby-talk. “Oh my gracious you are just a big cutie, aren’t you?”
I smiled. I couldn’t help it.
“I’m in love .” She cooed at him then turned to me. “What’s his name?”
It hadn’t occurred to me she might ask for their names. It made sense, but we’d just fed forty horses, and this was the first time she’d asked. At first, I tried to make one up off the cuff. But, nothing came. After a few seconds, I admitted, “Uh, it’s Praline.”
Please don’t ask for hers.
“Praline.” Her baby-talk intensified. “Oh my gosh, I am in love with you, Praline. You are the sweetest boy in the whole wide world.”
Something about her loving on the horses…a knot formed in the pit of my stomach, tightening until my whole chest cavity felt like it might burst. Whatever happened made me feel breathless as I stood there, watching her babify a one thousand pound animal.
Bea hadn’t had animal access as a child, but watching her, you’d think she was an old pro.
My eyes worked downward in appreciation of her. Obviously, she was beautiful. But more than that—she was radiant. And it was downright impossible not to stare. Whatever existed on the inside, streamed out in every conceivable way—eyes, smile, body language, tone. Captivating.
There was plenty of light now. Honestly, she was the majority of it. All white with a streak of yellow around her dark hair. Shining and bright against the dawn.
A ray all her own.
I looked away, the clenching in my gut growing to an unbearable level. What was I thinking? I couldn’t notice her that way.
Finally, she moved away from Praline and on to the Holmes’ horses. She asked for their names.
“The blonde palomino is Clemmy and the black is Moonshine.”
She pointed to the one munching on her breakfast. “And this one?”
My heart thumped in dread, heat radiating up my neck. I lifted my hat and ran my hand through the top of my hair, lightly tugging it. “It’s, uh, it’s…it’s Sprinkles.”
She froze and turned to me. I didn’t look, but felt her gaze like a searing iron.
Bea repeated each name. “Clemmy. Moonshine. And Praline and Sprinkles?”
“Yep.” The way she grouped their names, her questioning tone…she put the pair together.
Huh is all she said.
Blast the sun for coming out, I knew my face was red, and I wouldn’t be able to hide it. I turned toward the truck. “Let’s go.”