“Uh, Hooch is up here in the crossties. Need help carrying anything?”
“Yeah, could you grab my hoof stand?”
I reach for the hoof stand on the tailgate. From the corner of my eye, I watch as he pulls off his sweatshirt, which accidentally pulls up his t-shirt in the process.
Damn, his abs look like they were carved from marble—this man is absolutely shredded. And did I see a tattoo on his ribs?
I blink twice, realizing my mouth is wide open.Oops.
Knox doesn’t seem to notice. He throws his sweatshirt on the tailgate and reaches for his shoeing box.
“You must work out more than any farrier I’ve met.”
What the fuck? Why did I just say that? Shut up, shut up, shut up.
He laughs. “I shoe horses but it’s not my full-time gig.”
His laugh makes me blush. Why am I acting like I’m fourteen, and this is the first boy I’ve had a crush on?
I have got to start getting off the ranch more.
“What is your normal gig?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer right away, like he’s trying to think of what his actual job is, or he doesn’t want to answer. That’s when I see the sun reflect off something on the front of his jeans. It’s a buckle, but not just a buckle—it’s a bull riding buckle.
Oh great, I’m standing here drooling over a bull rider.You’ve lost your mind, Kacey.
“So, you’re a bull rider?” I point down at the buckle; he looks down at his buckle then back up at me.
“You checking me out or sizing me up?” He grins.
Is he flirting with me?“Oh, uh, no. It’s just hard not to notice the buckle,” I say awkwardly.
“I’m messing with you. Yes, riding bulls is how I pay my bills.” He turns slightly, looking over my head and nods. “New foal?”
“Yeah, born two hours ago. She’s a strong one, on her feet in less than an hour,” I say as I grab the hoof stand, he grabs his anvil and holds it under one arm, then picks up his shoeing box.
Whoa, those things are not light, and he’s acting like it weighs nothing.
“Isn’t that heavy?” I ask.
“It’s only seventy pounds,” he replies.
So apparently, he’s truly a gym rat.
We walk down the alley to the crossties where Hooch waits. His box and anvil scrape on the concrete as he sets them down before walking up to Hooch and rubbing his forehead. “Hey, red, you ready to get that shoe back on?”
Knox moves over to the front right leg. Picking it up and putting it between his legs, he sets to work cleaning up the foot. When he’s finished, he sets it down gently.
“Well, he’s got good feet. No cracks, solid hoof wall, and no thrush.”
“That’s good. I clean his feet every chance I get. So, where did you learn to shoe horses?” I don’t think Jack would have someone fill in for him who isn’t good, but I’d rather not risk Hooch coming up lame because some bull rider doesn’t know what he’s doing.
He smirks at me like he knows exactly what I’m asking. “Family business. My grandpa and my dad both did it for a living. I was shoeing horses shortly after I broke my first colt.”
“Oh, so you’re not one of those bull riders who can’t actually cowboy?”
He chuckles. “I’ve worked cows plenty, and I can rope, but I consider myself more of a horseman. I like to see a horse develop as I train it every day. If I wasn’t here helping Jack, I’d be breaking colts back in Oklahoma all spring.”
