Page 40 of Wrangled

Why his opinion should matter, I wasn’t certain—I only knew it did.

I walked into Rusty’s stall, and he moved toward me, those big brown eyes focused on me.

“Hey there,” I murmured. “Let’s get you in tiptop shape.”

I ran my hand down his foreleg, the hoof pick ready. I cupped his hoof, slowly leaning in until he shifted his weight, allowing me to pick up his foot. Supporting it in my hand, I used the pick to gently remove the pebbles from the inside of the shoe. Paul had told me how to check for signs of thrush. When all his hooves had been picked and inspected, I used the curry comb to loosen the dirt from his coat. I worked from ear to tail, avoiding the head, mane, tail, and lower legs, taking care when I went over the bonier sections. Rusty flattened his ears, and I eased off, currying with more care. Then I grabbed the dandy brush and used short, flicking motions to remove the debris from his coat. Finally, I applied the body brush, using long, sweeping strokes to smooth down the hairs.

His coat groomed, I picked up a dampened sponge and wiped around Rusty’s eyes, ears, and muzzle. Then I wiped the dock area beneath the tail, being especially gentle.

The mane took some detangling, and I worked through it with my fingers before using the mane brush to straighten it all out. When I did the same with his tail, I made sure to stand off to the side, so as not to be in kicking range if he got spooked.

“Nearly done,” I said in a soothing voice. “Yeah, you’re a beautiful boy, aren’t you?” I smiled. “Come to think of it, your master’s no slouch in the looks department either.”

From behind me came a cough. I stiffened. “And he’s right behind me, isn’t he?” I turned slowly to find Robert leaning against the wall, grinning. I tried not to stare at his open collar. Seeing a guy’s chest hair like that was a turn-on for me, always had been, and I didn’t want Robert to catch me looking.

He pointed to the fork standing against the door frame. “So what did you do to end up shoveling horse shit?”

I chuckled. “Still trying to work that one out. I reckon it could be Butch’s revenge for me calling him a dick.” I went back to my task, conscious of his gaze.

Well, if he’s going to watch…

I dropped the brush. “Oops.” I bent over to retrieve it, feeling the denim stretched tight over my ass. I might have imagined that hitch in his breath, but I couldn’t swear to it.

“You’re good with horses.”

I straightened. “I used to be. When I was a teenager, maybe thirteen or fourteen, we’d spend our summers at my granddad’s place in Wyoming. He put me on horse detail. It got so I could groom a horse blindfolded.”

“Did you have a favorite horse?”

I smiled. “Yeah, Willow. She was a beauty, a chestnut mare. You should’ve seen her kids too. I was there when her second foal put in an appearance. The birth got a little tricky, so Granddad and I spent the night with her in her stall.”

“You and he were close, weren’t you?” I gave him an inquiring glance, and he smiled. “I could hear it in your voice.”

“Yeah, we were. Losing him was tough.” I hadn’t thought about him in a while. I guess being around horses made the memories more acute.

“You saidwespent the summers… You’ve got siblings?”

“One sister, two brothers. I’m the youngest. We don’t get to see much of each other, we’re kinda spread out.” Which was no bad thing, given how the last family meet-up had gone.

“You’re not close tothem, though.”

I arched my eyebrows. “You’re good. They… We had a falling out, a while back.” That was as far as I was willing to go. He didn’t need to know about their nasty little minds.

“Anything that can be fixed?”

He wasn’t asking out of politeness. I knew that from the warmth in his voice.

This guy cares about people.Probably what made him such a good boss, because it was plain to see his hands looked up to him.

“It’s a nice thought, but no, not really. They’re not gonna change, and neither am I. Let’s just say… They disapprove of me—well, of how I earn my dollars.”

They’d tossed out the word deviant once or twice, along with a few other choice phrases.

“This club of yours that you co-own, is it successful?” Robert held up his hands. “You don’t need to tell me any more than that.”

“Yeah, it is. San Francisco is the perfect location for it too.” Plenty of kinksters who liked to have a place to hang out, shoot the breeze… among other things.

“Then if it’s successful, what they think doesn’t matter. It’syourlife—not theirs. You live it howyouwant.”

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