“That’s what they always say.” Pamela shakes her head.
“I’ve been beggin’ him to grow some huevos and tell Summer how he feels, but he won’t.”
I ball my hand into a fist. “I don’t have a thang for her.”
“You do. That’s so cute.” Patricia waggles her brows.
I’m so aggravated as Harrison bursts into laughter. This has been an ongoing joke with everyone in the family since high school. Summer and I can’t even hold a civil conversation without it ending with us at each other’s throats.
I brush it off and shrug. “Y’all want to take some pics in the saddle?”
Thankfully, the subject is changed. I’m handed their fancy smartphones with several lenses on the back. We line the horses up by a few benches that look out at the water and help them climb into the saddles. Harrison holds the horses by the halter and poses. I snap several pictures, and then it’s time for us to go.
“Yeehaw,” Harrison hoots, walking to his horse, then we slowly make our way back to the barn.
Patricia and Pamela are all smiles when their feet are back on the ground. Their cheeks and noses are sunburned from being out without a hat. They ask for a selfie, and we take a few, then give them hugs goodbye.
“Hope to see y’all again!” I wave as they climb into their car.
They’re giddy and happy, and that’s the only way I like to see our customers leave. When they’re out of sight, I turn to Harrison with a death glare.
“The rubber snake?” I meet his eyes with disdain.
He’s smirking. “You know for a fact they fuckin’ loved it.”
“You nearly gave her a heart attack!”
He shrugs. “But I didn’t. That’s all that matters. And I’ll be messaging her dirty little granddaughter, too, a promise I made.”
“You’ll never learn,” I tell him as he removes the saddles and pads from the training horses, and I take care of ours. “Oh, thanks for mentioning Summer, asshole.” I carry two of the saddles by the horns and take them to the tack room.
“Do somethin’ about it.”
“For the thousandth time, y’all need to stop saying that bullshit and telling people. Ya know how rumors around here spread.”
He chuckles. “Everyone already knows, ya dummy.”
“I often wonder why I got paired to work with you. None of our other siblings are quite as annoying.”
He bursts into laughter. “It’s ’cause the rest of them don’t want to deal with your grumpy ass.”
“Whatever. But hey, I owe you one. I’m totally gonna get you back. It might not be tomorrow. It might not be next week. Hell, it could be years from now, but I will take the perfect opportunity to return the favor and embarrass the living fuck outta ya. Just wait.”
“Oooh, I’m shakin’ in my boots right now.” He wobbles his knees, pretending to be scared, but I know he’s not even threatened. Harrison is immune.
I watch him for a few more seconds. “Keep it up, bud. I don’t get back. I get even.”
“I look forward to it. Sticks and stones and all that jazz.”
After we finish cleaning up for the day, Harrison and I muck the stalls and feed the horses. Together, we make fast work of it, and I’m surprised we’re finished by five.
“Where’re ya headin’?” Harrison pulls his keys from his pocket.
“Gonna go to the grocery store. Ya need anything? I probably shouldn’t even ask you, considerin’ you didn’t grab me a burger today.”
He snickers. “Nah, I’m good. Same time tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
I make my way to town.
There is a lot of traffic on the streets, and I realize how much of a disaster it was coming at this time. I drive around the building and find zero parking, so I use a side street and walk a short distance. While my fridge is somewhat bare, I’m only grabbing a few things for tonight, so I hope it won’t take long.
As I look at the ribeyes, Mrs. Jacobson, a recently widowed woman, who I’m sure murdered her husband, moves in beside me. She’s so close, I can smell her perfume and the mintiness of the gum she’s chewing. She’s in her early forties but still hasn’t learned manners about personal space.
“Hi, Beck.” She shortens my name, something only my friends do.
I’m polite and smile, but I’m not in the mood. “Hi, Mrs. Jacobson.”
“I’ve told you time and again, call me Tracie.”
I move my attention back to the steaks.
“Those jeans are lookin’ mighty fine on you today.” Her eyes trail me from head to toe, purposely checking out my ass. This isn’t anything new. Plenty of women around town want to become an etch on my headboard, and when I was in my twenties, I wasn’t afraid to fuck and forget them. But things are different now.
“I want you to teach me a lesson,” she hums.
I meet her eyes, not taking the bait.
“A riding lesson.”
A grin touches my lips, but it’s forced. The last thing I want is for her to contact my mama and say I was rude in public. “With all due respect, Mrs. Jacobson—”
“Tracie.” She bats her fake eyelashes at me.
“Right. We’re booked until the end of the year.” I pull a business card from my wallet and hand it to her. “Go to the site and sign up. I’d be happy to get ya on the schedule.”
She takes it and looks it over. “Just the office number is listed.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I find a fat steak and grin. “Nice seein’ ya again.”
I make my way to the freezer section and grab a pint of ice cream, then remind myself to pick some zucchini from the garden when I get home. Right now, though, all I want to do is get the hell out of here.
The long line means it takes nearly thirty minutes for me to check out. By the time I make it to my truck, the sun is setting. On the way home, I cruise with the windows down, feeling the warmth of the early May breeze, enjoying the season change and all the excitement around town. The Fourth of July celebration, the summer festival, and everything we do to bring in visitors are highlights for me.
I pass the Lazy J Ranch, and I see a blonde outside nailing a sign to a post at the Horseshoe Creek Ranch. Taking my foot off the gas, I slow down. At the last minute, I decide to pull over. I don’t mind being a nosy neighbor, considering my family’s ranch is on the other side.
I get out of the truck and make my way over to her.
“Howdy, ma’am.” I give her a smile.
“Hi.” She shows her pearly white teeth and perfect smile, making sure to look me up and down. She’s attractive and flirty, a deadly combination.
“I’m Beckett Valentine. I live right next door at the Bar V Ranch. What’s goin’ on?” I glance at the big for sale sign she’s struggling to hammer into the wood. “Need some help?”
“Do you mind?” She happily hands everything to me, and I make quick work of it. “For sale, huh?”
“Yeah, my grandparents own the place, and they’ve decided to sell so they can move to Florida and be closer to all the grandchildren.”
“Ahh.” I hand the hammer back to her. “How much they askin’?”