“What is the point of the Best Man, then?”
“Science is still trying to figure that one out.”
After digging out all the wet spots—the stallion had left four—came sifting to make sure the last traces of waste were gone, followed by trucking the manure to the waste collection shed. Finally, Ty showed me the huge pile of fresh bedding out in the hay barn, and I carted load after load to replenish the cleaned stall. He walked me through every step, offering dry commentary on my shoveling style, and pointing out dirty areas I’d missed. By the time I finished, the stall shone, ready for the stallion to come water it down again.
“Pretty good, right?” I said, grinning over my work.
“Pretty good.” Ty twisted his wrist to check his watch. “And it only took you thirty-five minutes. With thirteen stalls to go, you just might be out of here by eight tonight.”
My pride whooshed out of me along with my breath as I looked down the row of empty stalls. This was only the first task of many I’d agreed to tackle every day for the next two weeks.
I’d had smarter ideas.
“You’ll go faster now that you know what to do. I want every stall to look as good as this one.” He paused, his eyes narrowed on mine. “Unless you want to go ahead and admit right now that you’re a city girl who can’t cut it.”
Staring right back at him, I straightened my spine, moved the wheelbarrow to the next stall, and started the whole process over again. Like I would ever give him the satisfaction of sayingI quit.
But he was right, at least where the improvement was concerned—I did make quicker progress after that. The work wasn’t any easier and didn’t smell any better, but it didn’t take thirty-five minutes to clear out another stall.
After I’d completed my third stall under Ty’s watchful eye, he brought me a red Solo cup filled with water from a huge thermos that sat on the shelf above the rubber boots.
“You can take a break whenever you want,” he said as I downed the water in one long go. “You’re not on the clock.”
“I’m fine.” I handed him back the empty cup. Taking a break would just prove I couldn’t handle it. Plus, if I sat down, chances were good I wouldn’t want to stand up again. “Thanks.”
His mouth twisted, his expression no more pleased than when I’d showed up this morning. “You don’t have to do this at all, you know.”
“I know.” I went back to my shoveling. “Hey, what do you have planned for Booker’s bachelor party? Or do I want to know?”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
I rolled my eyes at how difficult he had to make everything. “You know. A strip club. One last crazy night of bachelorhood before Booker settles down.”
“You think a lot of me, don’t you, June?”
I shoveled a large clump of manure into the wheelbarrow, ignoring the growing ache in my lower back. “I’m not judging. Pole dancing lessons is one of the most popular options for bridesmaid parties right now.”
A weird, strangled sound came from behind me.
“Pole dancing lessons? You doing that?”
I shot him a saucy look over my shoulder. “I’m not giving anything away.”
The young man who had been out in the round pen popped his head through the barn door.
“I’ve got to get going.” His eyes lit on me. “Oh, I didn’t know you got one of the high school girls out here.”
I had filthy spots on my clothes, flyaway locks of hair stuck to my sweaty face, and my back felt every one of my twenty-nine years, but I grinned at him. “I like you already.”
“June, this is my ranch hand, Aaron Ortega,” Ty said. “Aaron, this is June Evans. She’s a…friend.”
His mouth twisted over the word as if he didn’t like that explanation any better than I did. But outing me as his brother’s ex-girlfriend wouldn’t have been a more acceptable title at this point.
Distracter extraordinaire,maybe.
Aaron walked over to shake my hand, grinning all the while. “Nice to meet you. Are you going to handle all of this while Ty is on the mend?”
“No,” Ty said at the same time I said, “Yes.” We glared at each other a beat. He could be as irritated as he liked, but he wouldn’t get rid of me that easily.