Page 3 of His Wilde Little
“Jace,” Dad scolded. “Lolo is an in-demand horse whisperer, we’re lucky to have him. And luckily too because the rescue is on its way here any day now.”
Lorenzo looked at me, his dimpled smile, I couldn’t tell how old he was because it kinda made him look young. “Maybe in a couple weeks, I’ll tell you why I left, and you can decide if I’m out of my depth by then.”
“I will,” I said, catching my dad’s glare again.
Dad continued showing off the barn. “It’s still nice out, but in the winter, we bring all the animals in here. Not sure what a Texan winter is, but up here, it gets mighty cold. Also, if you need anything buying, we’ve got a town nearby you can get items shipped to.”
“I’m looking forward to the cold the most,” he laughed.
My smile turned once more to a snarl as I couldn’t quite believe someone was choosing to be in the cold, and I couldn’t excuse myself back to the kitchen where I could put all my rainbow utensils out from whichever hole my mom had hidden them in.
Conversation turned back to me, and they both stared, expecting a response to something I hadn’t heard. “Huh?”
“Your dad was just saying that you wake up before everyone in the house, and I told him I’d have you beat, I get up early.” It was hard to be annoyed at him, because for whatever reason, he was oozing this charismatic charm that nearly had me under its spell. I didn’t want to find myself down bad for him based on a smile and a wink he may or may not have delivered in my direction.
“It’s peaceful in the morning,” I said.
“It’ll be nice to have the company, I’m sure.”
Dad laughed. “Jace isn’t one for company, I’m surprised he hasn’t slinked off to go bake or to his room already.”
And now, I was visibly flushing. I liked my space, and it wasn’t like a Daddy was going to fall into my space, I had to get that from the internet since I was still living at home—and would be forever it seemed.
2. LORENZO
New ranches filled with new people and their thoughts on cowboys were always amusing to me. It was typical of newer ranchers not to know how being a cowboy worked, and for a lot of us, we’d been doing this since we were young. I know that was true for me, so it was a surprise to have Thomas, the owner of Wilde Ranch reached out, telling me he had a feral stallion coming in as a rescue from an abandoned ranch from a couple states over. The surprise was in having a ranch owner admit to not knowing what to do and needing help.
I almost quit, and maybe if I’d stuck it out in Texas, I would’ve. A year ago, I’d let this younger stable hand, also named Thomas, ride a horse I’d been taming. He’d wanted a bit of a rough horse. He was bucked right off, broke his leg, nearly almost had his full back broken. I held guilt for agreeing to let him to ride all because he was preparing for competitive bull riding.
It was probably a sign that this fresh start was given to me by a man of the same name. This place was a chance for me to get away from the guilt, although the kid just turned twenty, he’d told me not to feel guilt or blame, but it was impossible not to carry the burden from my choice. To feel like his life was over, like I should’ve been the one in his shoes, but instead, he’d told me it was the way of life—I suppose the payout he got softened the blow, but he shouldn’t have gone through it.
The Wilde family were accommodating. I was set up in their guest house, which was nicer than most places I’d stayed in the past. I’d lived in bunkhouses for the majority of my life, and I wasn’t sharing this with anyone. I had a private bathroom, kitchenette area, and a double bed. I didn’t know what I’d do with all the space.
After touring the land and meeting the animals, alongside the one horse they had in the stable, who was getting old, and didn’t like being ridden as much. They had a nice plot of land, and it was going to be strange not to have cattle around, except for their goats, those were new for me.
Three thuds hit the front door.
I’d only been left alone for fifteen minutes to unpack. I assumed someone would be over to give me my working orders already.
At the front door, standing with a force smile on his face. Jace held out tray covered in foil. “You didn’t get to try these earlier,” he said, peeling back the foil slightly. “And you won’t have groceries yet, so I brought a couple things over.”
Something about him said he hated that I was here. I wasn’t taking his job. That seemed safe, his family owned this place. I had one job to do and hope to find my groove and passion again. “Thank you,” I said. “The bread smelled good. I’ve not got a huge sweet tooth though.”
He stood there, teeth sinking into his lip as he nodded and stared at me. “You don’t have to eat it, but I’m not going back with it.” His chest puffed out slightly, my eye caught the glint of the enamel rainbow pin on his shirt.
“Ok, you wanna come in?” I asked.
There was a softness in his eyes, almost like he was trying to suss me out. Our eyes circled each other in the attempt to see what we were about. “I’ve got stuff to do, but if you want to take this tray, I’ll see you around.” He nodded his head, attempting to shove the tray further toward me.
“Maybe you can take me into town later, not today if you don’t have the time, but I would love to buy some groceries to have on hand here,” I said. “Or, you know, just give me directions.”
Jace’s brow and forehead were tensing and furling together. “You want me to take you?” he asked. “I—I can, but it won’t be until later, and stores close early, so maybe you could go alone. The people in town don’t bite. As for directions, you can’t miss it, there’s pride flags everywhere.” His jaw almost closing shut as he mentioned it.
And then it hit me, like a bag of flour tied to rope above a door. He was making a point about it. He thought I was homophobic. Animal whispering didn’t just start or stop at horses; I was good at getting to the root of people too. Especially ones that ran hot and cold.
“Great,” I said, taking the tray from him. “Some of my friend’s rock with the pride flag. I’ll have to let them know this place is welcoming.” It was a lie, I didn’t have friends I could call up, invite over, and chat to. I had networking opportunities, and none of them rocked the pride pin, unless it was June.
His posture straightened, as sharp as an arrow, or someone who’d received some unlubed information. “Yeah, yeah, well, I think you should. Pineberry Falls is super inclusive.”
