Page 38 of Stick Around,
The children shuffled into an orderly line, while Kellan, Enzo, and Reid stared at me like I’d performed a miracle.
I stood at the front of the group, feeling oddly at home even with being surrounded by horses and cowboys. “I’m Miss Quinn, and it seems we need to have a restart so no one gets hurt. I think we would all be disappointed if we didn’t have time with Tater Tot and the other animals today.”
The children nodded solemnly, and I led them back to the hay bales. They sat quietly, and I stood next to Tater Tot. “Our first safety expectation is to always listen when an adult is speaking. It is particularly important here on the ranch.”
I wasn’t sure if the guys had even gone over anything, but judging by the rapt attention of my audience instead of eye rolls or bored expressions, they were engaged. “The second is to neverwalk behind a horse. Even the gentlest horse might get startled and kick.”
A little boy raised his hand enthusiastically and started talking before I even called on him. “My cousin got kicked by a horse, and he had to go to the hospital, and they gave him popsicles even though it was his leg that got broke not his mouth. I thought they only gave that when they cut out your throat because it hurted too much.”
“That’s exactly why we’re learning these rules,” I redirected without missing a beat. “Next up, we always speak to a horse before we touch them so they know you’re there.”
“Miss Quinn?” A girl shyly raised her hand. “My cat likes when I scratch behind her ears. Do horses like that too?”
“Great question!” Kellan jumped in, stepping beside me with an ease that suggested we’d done this together a hundred times. “Horses do like being petted in certain spots but it depends on the horse. You should always ask the horse’s owner before you pet them, like you should with a dog. Let me show you where Tater Tot likes to be petted.”
He moved closer to Tater Tot, who stood like a mountain of patience. Kellan demonstrated proper petting technique on his flank. “Nice and gentle, like you’re petting a... what’s something delicate?”
“A butterfly!” called out a little girl with glasses.
“A bubble!” suggested another.
“My grandma’s skin!” offered a boy in a Spider-Man T-shirt.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing while Kellan nodded seriously at all these suggestions. “Yes, exactly. Gentle like all those things.”
Each child who wanted to, came up one at a time to pet Tater Tot before returning to their seats. Reid moved quietly among the children, kneeling beside a shy girl who seemed hesitant to approach the horse. His gentle voice coaxed a smile fromher, and he guided her hand to touch the horse’s nose. The transformation on her face from fear to wonder was magical.
From behind the group of kids, Enzo observed us. His arms were crossed, stance wide, but his expression wasn’t stern like I’d expected. Even under the shadow of his cowboy hat, there was an intensity that made me very aware of him. His dark gaze followed my movements as we moved on to how to brush the horse.
The children took turns brushing Tater Tot under our supervision, forming an orderly system that seemed to surprise the men. Occasionally, I caught their exchanged glances, and their raised eyebrows and subtle nods communicated silent relief.
Tater Tot, living up to his reputation, stood with supreme tolerance as the kids brushed his coat, some more coordinated than others. At one point, he released a tremendous fart that echoed through the arena, sending the children into peals of delighted laughter.
“He’s smiling!” shouted a boy, pointing at Tater Tot’s pulled-back lips.
“He is.” Reid patted the horse’s neck with affection.
When I glanced around at the three men, it wasn’t just relief I saw on their faces. There was admiration there, a kind of respect that made me stand a little taller. And beneath that, something more complex flickered in their gazes that made my pulse quicken in a way that reminded me I was more than the walking disaster who’d stumbled onto their ranch.
Later that afternoon, when the kids were all gone and the arena was empty, I focused on a course of jumps Kellan hadarranged. My muscles tensed as I approached the first small hurdle. I leapt, holding tight to Thunderbolt, clearing it easily and galloping on with exaggerated bounces, my boots kicking up arena sand.
I’d been at this for nearly half an hour, using physical exertion to quiet my mind. It wasn’t working, and my thoughts were spiraling into far more complex patterns than my jumps.
Enzo’s hand on the small of my back as we’d danced. Kellan’s fingers tangled in my hair in the hot tub. Reid’s eyes watching from the window and the intensity of his gaze even from a distance.
What the hell was I doing? I’d come to this ranch to learn about horses after winning that ridiculous hobby horse competition. Instead, I was collecting cowboys like they were limited edition Beanie Babies or Labubus.
I cleared another jump, stumbling slightly on the landing. I should call April. She’d laugh her ass off at my predicament, but she’d also have advice. Probably terrible advice, but advice nonetheless.
My rhythm faltered as I pictured my inevitable departure. The thought of leaving made my chest ache in a way that terrified me.
I’d known these men for less than a week. This wasn’t like me. I was practical, responsible, the kind of woman who didn’t jump into bed with strangers.
“Shit.” I realized I’d missed my approach to the next jump. I tried correcting too late, lifting my legs to clear the hurdle, but my boot caught the edge.
The world tilted as I pitched forward. Thunderbolt flew from my grip, skidding across the dirt as I tumbled ungracefully to the ground, landing with a grunt on my hands and knees.
“Quinn!”
