Page 27 of Scrape the Barrel
“Better than the others his age?” she pried with a flutter of her abnormally long eyelashes. They had to be fake.
I swallowed, biting the inside of my cheek. It was like a broken record with her. Every week, she tried to get me to say he was better than the rest. Each one of my students was unique and I enjoyed teaching them all for various reasons, but none of them were better than the others. They were all at different levels, and comparing them wasn’t fair.
That was the problem with the “horse world.” People thought too highly of themselves and compared themselves to every other equestrian out there. But it wasn’t a comparison game. We should all lift each other up, give each other pointers;not tear each other down because someone’s seat wasn’t as exact as the next person’s.
That was the environment I was trying to create here on this ranch. No judgment, no expectations. Just ride because you want to ride, and do it safely.
“He’s right where he needs to be,” I answered.
She dropped her hand, shooting me a flirty smile. “I knew you were the best teacher around.”
I gave her a tight nod. “Thank you. I have to go check on him and then I’ll send him back out.”
“Will you come say goodbye?”
My teeth worked on the skin in my mouth like they were about to tear it clean off. “I have another lesson in five minutes. I’ll see Christopher next week, same time.”
Her face fell a little, but she quickly covered it up with another flash of teeth. “Same time.”
I turned, heading toward the barn where Christopher had disappeared. Bailey was stacking hay under the carport when he straightened, pulling his gloves off. His shirt was stained with sweat and dirt, his cowboy hat tossed to the side.
“You okay?” Bailey asked with a furrowed brow.
I heaved a sigh, oxygen filling my tight lungs. “Never better.”
He tossed the gloves on the bale beside him and wiped the sweat off his forehead with a bandana. “It’s no secret the moms drool all over you while you teach their kids, you know that, right?”
“I’m well aware.”
“So why do you let it affect you?”
I crossed my arms. “Does this look like it’s affecting me?”
He shoved the bandana in the back pocket of his jeans. “Sure as hell does. You’ve got your emotions written all over your face, Cal.”
“Am I supposed to like them flirting with me while I instruct their kids how to ride a thousand-pound animal?”
“No. But maybe don’t show them how flustered you get when they do it.”
“I’m not flustered. I just don’t like all the attention.”
“Have you seen yourself? You can’t look like that and not get attention. Trust me, if I wasn’t with your sister, I’d be all over—”
“Okay! I’m going to go do my job.” I pointed over my shoulder toward the barn. “And you can get back to yours. Nice talk, Bailey!” I turned on my heel, continuing on my way when something thumped against my ass.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Bailey's glove laying in the dirt.
“You should walk away more often!” Bailey shouted after me, following it up with a catcall.
“Jackass,” I muttered under my breath as I flipped him the bird over my shoulder.
Most of the time, I tried not to give the moms the time of day when they came off like that to me. Not every mother was here to flirt with me, but the few who did made it very obvious, and if I was anything, it was afraid of conflict, so naturally I didn’t put a stop to it like I should. I let it continue because I thoughtit was the nice thing to do to not make them feel bad, but in the end, I was the one left feeling like some spectacle on display in that arena while their kids rode. They should be watching their child make those memories and learn how to ride, not watching me.
My mind drifted back to Sage as she watched Avery ride for the first time and how all her attention was captivated by her daughter. She hadn’t even glanced at me as Avery rode—her heart practically shone in her eyes.
For some reason, I hadn’t minded the conversations with Sage. Usually, I was polite to parents and only spoke to them when I had to, but with Sage, I willingly started them. Opposite of everyone else, I didn’t want to seem closed off to her.
My family knew I was overly empathetic, but I was only that way to the people I was close to. I was courteous when I had to be to others, but aside from that, I’d rather keep to my bubble.
