I’m standingin a paddock with Nathan and Brown Sugar, and he’s looking at me with a pissed off expression on his stupidly handsome face.
“You want me to dowhat?” he asks, sounding incredulous.
“I want you to sit in this paddock and talk to Brown Sugar about your hopes and dreams until she comes over to you willingly,” I repeat slowly, while leveling him with a flat stare.
I point at Brown Sugar, who is romping around, looking cute as a button with a plaid rug on her back. The temperature dropped last night, and Beau wanted her in a rug since her coat is fairly short. She seems to like being out most of the day, clearlyenjoying the freedom to play. I can’t wait to get her introduced to the rest of the horses.
“The sitting in the paddock part I get, but the talking, not so much.” Nathan is staring down at me intently, and a lock of hair keeps falling into his face, unconfined by the Stetson on his head.
“I just want her to get used to you,” I say. “It doesn’t have to be hopes and dreams but I find that always works best.”
“You can’t be serious, Candice.”
“Well, find out for yourself. And when you’re done, start cleaning out her paddock. It’s a bit muddy in here, and there’s been some manure build up. Wheelbarrows are in the shed.”
“You don’t have a tractor?”
Nathan says this like he’s never contemplated how people lived before the advent of machines.
“No, Nathan, we do not. Remember the financial issues I was telling you about?”
“Fine, whatever. It’s just been a while since I’ve cleaned a paddock with nothing but a wheelbarrow.”
“Well,” I say, “dig deep and remember what it was like on daddy’s ranch all those years ago.”
“Don’t mention my father. Or my ranch,” he says, folding his arms across his chest.
I try not to stare at the way the muscles ripple in his arms as he does this, or the tick in his jaw that I just put there. He looks even more pissed off, and not in the fun type of way. If I poke the bear anymore he’s going to bite me, I’m pretty sure.
“Fine. Whatever. I don’t really care how you find it in yourself to clean Brown Sugar’s paddock, I just need you to do it.”
Nathan just glares at me.
“That won’t leave me much time to help Tomás and to give you social media lessons,” he says finally. “Plus, I need to takeBally out. I know it’s not work but I haven’t ridden him for days and…” He trails off, and I feel myself soften towards him for just a moment.
“Take Ballantine out. Come over to the house for dinner later and we can work on social media then.”
“You’re actually inviting me to dinner?” he asks, sounding surprised.
“It’s not like I’ll be cooking. Beau will be. And I just thought he’d want you there since you haven’t gotten to see him much yet.” I don’t add that some small part ofmewants him there, too. If only to have someone to fight with. Nathan and I might really hate each other, but sometimes it’s fun to hate. No one rises to the challenges or takes the bait quite like he does.
“I’ll be there,” he says. “Make sure you do your makeup and put on a nice dress for me.”
And that small part of me shrivels up and dies.
“Fuck off,” I say.
I head off in the direction of the stables, and hear Nathan break into a laugh behind me. I have to fight the urge to turn back around and look at him. Because that’s the laugh of America’s favorite cowboy—big, boisterous, and accompanied by a thousand watt smile capable of bringing the average woman to her knees.
I know better than to go up against it.
8
NATHAN
Damn Candice Wilson to hell,but she’s right. It’s probably just a coincidence, but when I start talking to Brown Sugar about my hopes and dreams for the future (not that I have all that many), she comes over to stand near me, taking an interest in me after thirty minutes of pretending I don’t exist.
She sniffs me, reaching her neck out long in my direction.
