Page 32 of Stables

I wonder if he ever got more responsible? I haven’t seen him since the wreck he was in when Mason lost his wife ten years ago.

Eleven?

Shit. A lifetime.

Being on shift that night, having to tell Mason that Carolyn didn’t make it, was the single worst moment in my entire medical career.

No one could have prepared me for that.

And salt in the wound was knowing it was Cade who caused it.

Shaking my head doesn’t free it of the memories as I toss a bale of alfalfa into the feeders.

With a slip of my knife, I cut the twine holding it and yank them out.

There’s a hook where she’s been wrapping the loose strings that has a piece of masking tape over it that says “Tie me up” on it.

Cute.

It’s funny how many women joke and tease the idea, but don’t actually want it.

I wonder if Char does.

No, no I don’t. That’s a dangerous train of thought to follow.

The click of the water faucet tells me that the timer went off.

Looks full. It’s time to go.

When I trudge back to my truck, the empty tea mug and jar are still sitting on the tailgate.

Do I just leave them on the porch? Or make her come to the door again?

I squint at the flowery cup and scratch the whiskers on my chin.

They’re coming with me. It’ll be the excuse I need to stop by tonight.

She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m gonna be camping here every night until she tells me to leave.

The gallop of hooves behind me doesn’t faze me as I watch Mason giving Lori a long kiss while I lean over my saddlehorn.

Sophia is running her mare in patterns in the arena around the barrels over and over. She’s been working her ass off now that she’s just about recovered from breaking her femur last year.

I know she was worried that Misty would need more tuning up before she could run again, but that roan hasn’t missed a beat.

My own gelding tosses his head and chews on the bit in his mouth. Shadow is probably going to be a bit of a handful today, I haven’t ridden him in almost three weeks.

“I’m making biscuits tonight with dinner if you boys are back in time,” Lori giggles to Mason as he presses her lips one last time.

My newest nephew snuggles in a bright blue blanket against her chest between them, tiny fingers wrapping the edge.

“Oh, baby, I love your biscuits. We’ll be back.” He finally pulls away and pulls the reins around his own horse, who’s been standing placidly while Mason was acting like a lovesick fool.

Hank’s probably used to it.

When we’re out of earshot, I turn to my brother and raise an eyebrow. “How in the hell do you ever get out of the house with all that hoopla?”

Mason tips his hat back and laughs.

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