Page 11 of Snowed In with the Rancher
She tugged her hood over her head. “Will this do?”
With an eye roll, he shook his head. “No.” Then he pulled off the black knit cap he’d had on his head and tugged it down over hers, since she’d released her hair from its top knot and plaited it into a thick Dutch braid down her back. Then he reached into a wicker basket on a shelf over the coat hooks, pulled out a navy blue kit cap, and yanked it over his head. “Keep your ears warm.”
She followed him out into the yard where fat, white flakes fell from the sky.
The ranch looked so different in the daylight than it did at night.
She hadn’t realized how enormous the land was, or how many outbuildings there were, either.
A whinny and a bray from the barn made goosebumps of glee prickle along her arms.
“Hannah said you guys have goats?” She had to pick up her pace to keep up with his long, purposeful strides. Even though the snow was practically up to her knees—only Asher’s ankles since the guy had at least six inches if not more on her—he still walked fast and sure.
“Ten,” he said with a grunt. “More in the spring when they have kids.”
“Well, Hannah won me over when she told me I could cuddle goats if I came here, so …”
He craned his neck around to look at her, his brow lifting up on the right side until it disappeared beneath the cap. “Cuddle goats?”
Triss shrugged. “Isn’t that what you do at a petting farm?”
“If they allow it,” he said, turning back around and continuing to walk toward the barn. He heaved open a side door and stepped inside. The place was heated and smelled like fresh hay and fresh manure. Some people hated the smell of manure, but Triss didn’t mind it.
Over a dozen giant horse heads appeared along the long walkway, the residents apparently smelling a newcomer and wanting to check things out.
Immediately, she abandoned Asher and went to the sandy-colored horse with the straw-like mane. “Well, hello, gorgeous,” she said, pressing her forehead to the horse’s forehead and petting its cheek.
“That’s Greenleigh,” Asher said, coming up behind her.
“Hello, Greenleigh. Aren’t you a beautiful girl?”
He cast her one of those half-hitched smiles. “Had twins this past summer.”
She patted Greenleigh’s neck before reaching up to scratch her ears, which made the horse bend her head to give Triss better access. “Well done, Greenleigh. One foal is impressive enough, but two. What a good mama.”
A brown horse beside Greenleigh’s stall was making snuffly noises and bobbing his head.
“You give one attention, you gotta give it to ‘em all,” Asher said, patting the brown horse’s neck. “Macklin is an attention whore and won’t let you leave until you show him the same amount of love you did Greenleigh … times ten.”
Triss’s mouth opened in shock. Those were probably the most amount of words Asher had strung together since she arrived.
Clearly, he felt most in his element and comfortable out here with his horses.
Patting Greenleigh on the neck once more, then kissing her cheek, Triss made her way over to Macklin the attention whore. He immediately started nuzzling her, bopping his head into her chest and face for affection, which had Triss laughing. “Easy, Macklin, we only just met.”
“He doesn’t care,” Asher said with a slight chuckle to his tone.
Triss giggled again when Macklin butted her with his nose and dipped his head so she could reach his ears.
“If you want snuggles, forget the goats. Macklin will literally try to climb into your lap if you sit down with him.” Asher handed her a couple of carrots from a bucket and she fed them to the brown-eyed Macklin.
When she moved on down the line to the next horse, Macklin made a snort of discontent. “I’ll be back for more, Macklin, I swear,” she said, laughing.
“This is Hula-Hoop,” Asher said, introducing her to the sleek black mare in the stall next to Macklin’s. “And that beside her is Dare.”
She gave attention to Hula-Hoop, then Dare. Eventually, after well over an hour, Asher had introduced her to all the horses in the barn, as well as the goats which weren’t nearly as keen on cuddling as she hoped. There was also a donkey named Sasquatch, a pony named Magic, and two very old miniature horses named Frodo and Sam.
“I’m sure I’m going to forget some of their names,” Triss said, feeding the last carrot in the bucket to Magic, then wiping her hands on her jeans and turning to Asher, her grin wide. “When is … shit … is it Pom-Pom that’s pregnant or Carolina? See? I told you I’d forget their names.”
