I’m sure the instructions make sense to someone who understands horse lingo, but to someone like me, who thought the only meaning for a halter was a type of shirt before today, they’re about as good as useless to me. I guess I could look it up on YouTube or something, watch a video on how to do it. I have always been more of a visual learner anyway. But I left my phone on the porch. Wiping my hands on the front of my jeans, I leave the barn and head toward the house.
The sun’s finally out, and while it’s not overly hot, it is still getting warmer, especially with me doing physical work. I’ll probably ditch my jacket when I grab my phone. What happens next happens so fast, I don’t even see it coming. I take a step, the grass a little muddy, and I completely lose my footing, my legs flying out from underneath me as my entire body catches air. I land straight on my ass with a loudthunk. The air’s knocked out of me, and in an instant, my entire back is soaked in the muddy water seeping between the strands of grass. I’m left staring up at the sky, sucking in large gulps of air, wondering what the fuck I was thinking, agreeing to come here and help my aunt when I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.
It’s day two, and already things have gone horribly. My car is broken down; I’ll probably have to buy a new one, my whole fucking back is soaking wet with mud and who knows what else. It’s probably animal shit. Wouldn’t be surprised.
A deep, masculine chuckle reaches my ears, and I fight the urge to melt farther into the ground. Especially when I look up and find Cope stepping up to me, his form now blocking the sun from my eyes. “What’re you doing down there?” he asks, an amused grin lifting his lips.
“I obviously fell,” I deadpan, finally sitting up.
Cope extends his arm to me, silently offering to help me stand. I slip my hand into his, and just like yesterday when he introduced himself with a handshake, I notice how calloused and rough his palms are.Hardworking hands. I wonder what he does for a living to have hands like that. Now isn’t the time to ask, but I make a mental note to ask later when I’m not covered in mud, with cheeks burning hot from embarrassment.
When I get to my feet, I don’t even bother trying to wipe off my ass. I already know it’s futile. “What are you doing here?” I ask him.
“Coming to see how you’re holding up. Clearly, you need the help more than I thought.” He chuckles again, and I can’t help but let out a little one of my own because, from the outside, I’m sure I do look ridiculous.
“What would give you that idea?” I tease. “I’d like to think I’m handling all of this quite well.”
“Right.” He nods. “Because a day on the farm is never complete without a back full of mud.”
Shrugging, I say, “Heard it’s good for the skin.”
His whole face lights up when he laughs. “Sure, farmland serum. I think I’ve heard of that.” Cope glances down for a moment. “Why on earth are you wearing shoes like that out here?”
I groan. “Have I mentioned I don’t know what I’m doing?”
“Don’t worry, I’m here to save the day.” He waves his arm out in front of him like he’s Prince Charming. “You’ll be a fully functioning cowboy in no time.”
“Ahh, I don’t know about that.”
Cope nods toward the house. “Go get changed and get on some actual boots, and I’ll help you with whatever else you have left to do.”
My brows clash together. “Why?”
“I mean, if you want to work covered in mud, by all means?—”
“No, I mean, why are you going to help me?”
Now it’s his turn to look confused. “Because you need help, and I want to…”
“Why are you so nice?” First, with my car, and now this. He barely knows me—no, he doesn’t know me at all, aside from my name and what state I live in—and yet, he’s so willing to lend a helping hand. I don’t get it.
He flashes me a wide grin. “I’m being neighborly. Now, quit being weird and just do as I say. Go get changed before I change my mind.”
Okay, bossy.
As quickly as possible, to not keep him waiting too long, I get changed and slip into the boots I should’ve put on originally, and I meet him back outside. I allow myself a moment to take him in as he stands there, not paying me any mind while he pets one of the cows. This one is much fluffier than the other one—fluffier than any cow I’ve ever seen. It looks like a cow that’s gone to the hairdresser and gotten a blow-out.
Cope’s dressed in a plain white V-neck t-shirt, a pair of light denim jeans that fit himdamnwell, and some dark brown cowboy boots. He’s also wearing a trucker hat with some logo on the front that I can’t quite make out. He’s a bit taller than I am; maybe six foot or six one, and while his build is lean, it’s more than obvious in the way his shirt clings to him that he works out. His skin is a golden tan like he spends a lot of time in the sun, and his face is peppered with scruff that’s a little bit more than afive o’clock shadow but not quite a full beard, a little darker than the dirty blond atop his head.
He's the embodiment of a country boy, and up until this very moment, it was a look I didn’t realize I was attracted to, but I don’t know…this is kinda doing it for me. I manage to wipe the drool from my chin by the time he glances up from the cow to me, that same warm grin plastered on his face from before.
“Ready?” he asks, walking over to me with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.
“Yup, let’s do this.”
We head into the barn, and he walks me through how to halter the horses. I was right, seeing it done helps much more than the written instructions, and it’s not even as hard as I was making it seem. Once we’re done with that, we walk all three of them out to the pasture.
“How long are you here for?” Cope asks after a few minutes of us walking quietly.
