“I’ll be fine.” Unzipping the closest bag, I shoved T-shirts and underwear into the top drawer. A pair of silky teal briefs fluttered to the ground at my feet.

  “Good.” Grayson plucked up my briefs before I could and legit folded them neatly before placing them back on my stack. Unlike me, he didn’t so much as blush. “There’s a bunch of stalls needing mucking with your name on them.”

  “I’m ready,” I lied, cheeks still flaming from him handling my underwear. So much for impressing him with my arrival. I’d simply have to hope I was amazing at shoveling shit.

  Chapter Seven

  Grayson

  As I collected the items Adler would need for his first stall-mucking job, I gave him a more thorough tour of the horse barn than he’d received when he had been more of a guest.

  And less of a pain in my side.

  When he’d arrived at the bunkhouse this morning, he’d looked entirely unsuited to ranch life, dragging his fancy suitcase through the dust, wearing colors better left for Halloween, which was coming up soon. Something told me Adler was a fan.

  I wasn’t.

  I was trying hard not to be an Adler fan either, keeping my attitude strictly business even when presented with cookies and shiny blue underwear. He truly was something else.

  “This facility is considered top-quality for our champion quarter horses,” I explained as I fetched the muck cart. “Each horse is an investment on par with a healthy down payment on a house or, in the case of our studs, a whole damn house.” I punctuated my words by handing Adler a horse rake. “Accordingly, it’s only the best for Lovelorn horses. We use rubber mats, pelleted bedding, and high-quality feed. A clean stall is essential to a healthy horse.”

  “Yes, sir.” Adler looked a few seconds away from saluting. Him trying to be serious was almost funny, but I wasn’t about to let him see me laugh. I led the way to the row of stalls I’d earmarked for Adler, although I was prepared to do the job if he turned tail midway through.

  “These horses have already been turned out.” I indicated the empty stalls. “Eventually, your work might include leading the horses out to the paddock or clipping them in the aisle so you can muck.”

  “I’d be happy to lead the horses around.” Adler sure was horse-crazy, like a little kid with his enthusiasm, and about as trustworthy.

  “Let’s work up to that.” I opened the first stall. “A seasoned hand can muck a stall in under five minutes. Probably take you a mite longer.”

  “A mite.” Adler did a poor imitation of my twang.

  “Watch carefully.” Rather than let myself linger over Adler’s attempts to be adorable, I got to work. I could do this stall in three minutes flat, but narrating the steps slowed me down. “First, we get the obvious dung with our fork. Then I work from the far corner, raking the bedding toward me. I use the fork to pull away any unsoiled bedding.” I demonstrated with fast, efficient, methodical movements that left no pellet untouched. “Manure and wet pellets get tossed in the cart. Next, I use the grain scoop shovel to remove any remaining wet spots.” I scraped the mat clean before grabbing the drying agent we used. “Address the wet spot with this powder.”

  “You’re sure fast.” Adler had his phone in one hand, and if he’d been taking pictures, we were going to have more than words. However, I was almost done and wanted to finish the job before I lit into him over the phone.

  “Clean bedding gets raked back into the middle, away from the walls and away from your grain, hay, and water buckets at the front. Top up the bedding with clean pellets. Finish by checking the water and feed.”

  “How much clean pellets?” Adler typed away on his phone. A quick glance revealed he was in some sort of note-taking app, complete with bold bullet points.

  “You’re taking notes?” I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or alarmed.

  “Of course.” Adler tapped his temple with the phone. “Highly distractible brain. I’ll forget otherwise.”

  “See that you don’t.” I wasn’t always this stern with new hands, but I also wasn’t above laying it on a little thick to get Adler to abandon this notion of his. “We don’t measure bedding, but you don’t want to put much more down than what I did. Over-bedding makes your cleaning time that much longer and increases respiratory risks for the horses.”

  “Don’t want that.” He nodded up and down before typing more notes.

  “Our vet will appreciate your diligence.” I gestured at the now-clean stall. “Not enough bedding causes its own set of problems, as does not adequately cleaning. Ammonia is another respiratory risk for horses, especially in a barn this size.”

  “I’ll do a good job.” Adler’s tone was so earnest that a muscle in my jaw twitched.

  “See that you do.” I moved to open the next stall. “I’m gonna watch you do the next one.”

  “Watch?” Adler made the word sound like a curse. “I’ve got my notes.”

  “So you do.” I leaned against a post, gesturing at the stall. “Go on now. Do like I showed you.”

  “Okay.” Adler fetched the rake with about as much speed as the last drop of ketchup from a bottle. “I do the poop first.”

  He paused midway through the work to consult his phone again.

  I made a warning noise. “That phone of yours is gonna end up in a pile of manure.”

  “Sorry.” His cheeks went bright red. He sure was pretty when he blushed, which was a thought I needed to not be having right now.

  “Don’t be sorry to me.” I shrugged, keeping my expression indifferent. “I’m not the one who’ll be out the replacement fee.”

  “Okay.” He pocketed the phone again, motions clumsy in the work gloves I’d given him to use. “Then I rake the bedding.”

  He moved the bedding so gingerly that we’d be here till supper if I didn’t intervene.

  “Less like you’re berry hunting.” I made a clucking noise. “You’ll spend an hour on each stall if you keep moving like you’re scared of a little horseshit.”

  “I’m not scared.” Glaring, Adler bristled up to his full, gangly height. “I don’t do well watched.”

  “Says the guy who loves attention and showing off,” I countered.

  “Who said I like to show off?” Adler narrowed his eyes, glancing around like a pack of gossips might be around the next stall. Again, I had to work double time to not chuckle at his antics.

  “Anyone with eyeballs.” I gestured at the half-raked pile of bedding. “Back to work.”

  “I’m on to you.” Adler let out a chuckle a few moments later. “You’re trying to make me hate the work so I run back to Maverick and drop this plan.”

  “Ain’t no one who loves mucking stalls.” I wasn’t going to flat-out lie, so I neatly sidestepped his accusation. “But it’s part of barn life.”

  “And I’m happy to learn.” He let out a cheery whistle like some sort of six-foot elf, a merry little tune as he finished the pile and fetched fresh bedding. He stepped back to admire his fifteen minutes of handiwork on the stall. “There. Did I add enough dry pellets?”

  Adler’s small, proud smile was going to be the death of me.

  “Fair enough.” I needed to walk away before a real compliment slipped out. “Okay, you do the next two or three stalls on your own while I go check some other things around the barn. I’ll show you where we dump the muck cart when I get back.”

  Kat caught me to discuss whether to summon the vet for a pregnant mare who was acting a bit off, then I got pulled into a lengthy discussion about winter hay needs that necessitated a call to Maverick. By the time I made it back to Adler, I was certain he’d either be done with the work or ready to give up, possibly both.

  Instead, however, I found him dancing in the third stall I’d requested he clean, using the rake as a dance partner and a pole. That dang phone of his was propped up near the stall window, blasting some sort of beat better suited for four shots of tequila and last call at a Denver bar.

  “What…?” I trailed off as Adler spun around, not embarrassed in the slightest. Yeah, he liked showing off. He grinned at me.

  “What?” Smile firmly in place, he mocked me with no shortage of glee. “I work better with music and didn’t have my headphones with me.”

  “This is a barn, not a nightclub.” I glared like I hadn’t watched him wiggle his ass for a good thirty seconds before he’d noticed my presence.

  “I’m sorry.” Adler’s greenish eyes sparkled at me. In the light of the bunkhouse, they’d appeared bluer. By the pond, they’d been a blue-green, and now, surrounded by all the dark wood of the barn, his eyes were decidedly green. I seriously needed to stop cataloging the man’s eye color and get on with the work at hand. Adler, though, seemed in no such rush as he chuckled. “Do your horses only like country music?”

  “Can’t say as they’ve ever voiced an opinion,” I deadpanned.

  “When do I get another riding lesson?” Adler leaned on his rake like an extra in an old-time musical. His joy for riding had been something to see, more of that childlike wonder of his, and I wanted more of that in the worst way. Which was why I shouldn’t have it.

  “You here to work, or you here to play?”

  “Would both be the wrong answer?” He rested his chin on his hands on the rake, another pose designed for maximum cuteness, but I refused to be moved.

  “Yep.”

  “Don’t hands need to know how to ride?” Adler added some logic to his ongoing efforts to charm me with big eyes and soft grins.

  “There’s plenty that needs doing without tossing you in a saddle.”

  “What if I finish early?” Adler used the same tone that had worked to get me to swim with him. He’d said he had a pack of siblings. I’d bet good money he’d been the one swindling the others via bets and dares. “Then can I get another lesson?”

  I offered him my harshest stare. “You best be planning on impressing me with your quality, not just your speed.”

  “Oh, I plan to impress you.” He licked his lower lip, pink tongue mesmerizing me with the memory of that day by the pond. He’d certainly been impressive then.

  “See that you do.” I nodded sharply. “You get the rest of this row done well by lunch, we’ll talk about getting you up on a horse.”

  “Good.” Adler beamed like he’d just beat the eight-second clock at the rodeo. Despite knowing he was likely an expert con man, I’d gone ahead and seized his bait. Damn it. I blamed that distracting tongue of his.

  Chapter Eight

  Adler

  “All done, boss.” I grinned at Grayson because I knew damn well I’d done a good job with my row of stalls. He’d no doubt expected me to turn my nose up at the mere thought of mucking stalls, but the man had no idea the sorts of messes I’d cleaned at hotels. Horses were more considerate than a lot of guests. And I’d had my music for company while Grayson had gone to take care of other chores. Not a terrible way to spend a morning.

  “Let me take a look.” He didn’t merely take my word for it, not that I’d expected him to. He went stall to stall, carefully inspecting my work. His stern countenance didn’t droop at all. “This stall needs more pellets, and the one on the end could use a bit more grain, but otherwise, not bad for a first attempt.”

  “You don’t give many compliments, do you?” I teased because the memory of every compliment he’d ever offered me was seared onto my brain.

  His eyes narrowed. No joking mood there. “Praise needs to be earned, not demanded.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” I gave him a pointed look to convey how very willing I’d be to do whatever he commanded. I quickly fixed his two complaints before asking, “Did I earn another riding lesson?”

  “Yep. I keep my word.” He held out a paper sack. “Here.”

  “What’s this?” I opened it to reveal a sandwich, an apple, and a bag of chips. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been so touched by something so simple.

  “Lunch.” Grayson made an impatient gesture, oblivious to the way his thoughtfulness had made me melt. “Follow me. Gonna squeeze in your lesson over lunch and before a budget meeting with Maverick and the trust folks. You’ll be on tack inventory this afternoon while I’m gone.”

  “Excellent.” Finally a task that played to my skill set. I beamed my approval at his back. We were close to the same height, but even with the limp, Grayson was faster. “I’m good at inventory.”

  “See that you ask Kat or another hand if you don’t know what something on the sheet is.” He turned toward me as we arrived at the stall of a very tall chestnut mare.

  “I will,” I promised before turning my attention toward the horse. “I’m not riding Magnolia?”

  “Magnolia is older and slowing down some. Kat wants to give Cinder here some riding time, but Cinder’s a mite big for some of the kids. You’re taller than you look.”

  “I’ve heard that before.” I winked, knowing full well Grayson wouldn’t laugh.

  “Cinder is a rescue horse project of Kat’s. She thinks he might make a decent ride for some of your city slickers, but she needs some more practice with inexperienced riders.”

  “Excellent.” I was simply happy to be getting another lesson, and Cinder seemed nice enough as she watched us through big brown eyes.

  “Let’s see what you remember about getting her ready.” Grayson reached for the stall door.

  “Should I start by clipping her to the aisle?” I asked.

  “Good call.” Grayson nodded a bit too quickly, like a man who was none too eager to be in close quarters with me. “Remember what I said about a slow approach and keeping where she can see you.”

  Following directions, I led Cinder into the aisle. She pranced around, shaking her head from side to side, and didn’t settle even after I started brushing her. Accordingly, I kept stopping to pat the horse and reassure her. Grayson had to prod me into fetching the saddle blanket and saddle.

  “Lordy, I don’t know who’s more distractible, you or the horse.” He sighed as I tried to place the saddle on Cinder. The horse neatly sidestepped my efforts, but as soon as Grayson made a sharp clucking noise, she let me saddle her.

  “Cinder has more spirit than Magnolia.” I wasn’t about to talk bad about my new best friend, and Grayson wasn’t wrong about me. Part of what I loved about front desk work was the constant stream of questions and small tasks to keep my squirrel brain focused.

  “More spirit, less smarts. I’m not sure I agree with Kat on the horse’s suitability for newer riders.”

  “Don’t listen to the mean man.” I stroked Cinder’s neck. “You’re a very smart horse. I can tell.”

  Grayson snorted, which was almost as good as making him laugh. “Mean man says get a move on to the ring.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” I unclipped Cinder so I could lead her into the ring over to the mounting block. Grayson followed, hovering like a spotter at the gym. I could do without his watchful gaze, but I managed to get myself in the saddle without catastrophe.

  “Oh wow.” I gazed around the ring from my new vantage point. “I’m up way higher.”

  “Eyes forward.” Grayson shook his head as I did the exact opposite, glancing over at him.

  “Oops.” I corrected my posture and attempted to get Cinder to walk away. I made the same noise and gave the gentle heel tap that had worked with Magnolia, but nothing happened. I tried again, and Cinder merely snorted, shaking her head, seemingly disinclined to move. “I think my horse is broken.”

  “More like stubborn.” Grayson ambled over to pat her rump. “Needs more direction than Magnolia, that’s for sure. Giddyap.”

  His encouragement worked for about ten paces, then she stopped, looked around, shuffled. I repeated the command and got another ten paces before she slowed. This time, she didn’t so much as perk up at my encouragement.

  “Why do you keep stopping?” I asked the horse as if she might answer, trying not to let frustration seep into my tone.

  “Maybe her ears are ringing from your God-awful taste in music earlier.” Grayson laughed at his own joke, the first smile I’d seen from him all day. He gave her another rump pat. “Come on, girl, let’s git going.”

  “That worked.” I struggled to hold on as Cinder started a merry trot, something a bit faster than a walk without being a gallop.

  “Use both your reins and thighs,” Grayson called out. He leaned against the riding arena gate. “You’re the driver, not the passenger.”

  “But I make such a cute passenger princess,” I shot back, remembering at the last second not to turn toward Grayson to see his reaction. Instead, I settled for his answering snort-laugh as I continued to guide Cinder in a circle.

  “Want you to practice some wide turns now,” Grayson ordered as we passed back by him. “You’re gonna make a big X across the arena.”

  That sounded a bit optimistic given Cinder’s stubborn nature and distractible brain, but I gave it my best shot, focusing hard on my posture and commands. Our first try looked more like a squiggly snake, but our next one was far closer to Grayson’s instructions. Then he set out some barrels and had me practice weaving back and forth down the length of the arena.

  “I did it! We did it!” I cheered as we completed the mini-obstacle course. I patted the horse’s neck as we pulled back even with Grayson. “Good girl, Cinder.”

  “She might be a keeper after all.” He reached out to give her a pat as well.

  “No praise for me?” I prompted, not above demanding what I craved.

  “We might make a rider of you by spring if you keep your focus,” Grayson allowed. “Shoulders back.”

  Back muscles I hadn’t been aware of owning were tense and sore. I rolled my neck from side to side. “Riding is more intense core work than the Pilates class Maverick dragged me to in LA.”

  “This isn’t a gym class.” Grayson’s lips twitched like he was working not to smile before his tone turned more serious. “Ranch work is a physically demanding job. Expect to be exhausted end of most days, especially at first, and eat up at dinner. You burn more calories than you think.”