Page 12 of Keep You Safe
“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 collectedthe 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 bucketsat 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.
