Page 7 of Mustang Valley

Lils

OMG! ARE YOU SHITTING ME?

Me

NOT ONE BIT. I GOT THE JOB!

Lils

I LOVE YOU, BABE. NO LIMITS. SO PROUD OF YOU.

Me

CHANGE THE STORY.

Lils

CHANGE THE STORY. NEW ONE BEGINS IN TWO MONTHS, GIRL.

Me

SORRY I WOKE YOU.

Lils

BEST WAY TO START A DAY. LOVE YOU.

* * *

I thought I’d feel like shit when I descend upon the stables, but my giddy energy at landing my dream job and getting so damn close to the finish line of my four-year plan provides me with enough adrenaline and elation to hum a tune. I hit my first stall this morning in a stable full of just me and my favorite animals in the world and I am bouncing with joy.

My earbuds bang out a Taylor Swift tune, and I dance around the buckskin quarter horse, singing, not loudly, but enough to get my blood flowing and to take my mind of the nip in the cold October air.

“Can’t you see-ee-ee, you belong with me-ee-ee…”I point in the air, rocking out, wondering who the hell Taylor is singing about, then return to folding down the stable blanket over the flicking tail of Hound Dog. I two-step, thinking about the lyrics… I’m not waiting anymore. I’m here. Where I belong. I’ve finally been seen. I wrap my arm around Hound Dog, give him a little hug, and sing with my cheek against his neck, crooning the rest of the lyrics I know by heart.

I run a body brush along his thickening coat. My breath comes out in puffs as I sing and dance around the beautiful horse’s body, grooming more dramatically than usual in an effort to stay warm. I finish smoothing his coat and dance out of the stall backward with his horse blanket slung over my arm… And right into someone large, solid, and smelling of earth and the familiar spice that lingers in the air in the apartment above.

With my free hand, I reach up and manage to take one earbud out. “Dash. Hi.” I wiggle my earbud in my hand. “Just waking up to some tunes.”

He nods. “Taylor Swift.” He passes me and enters the stall, inspects Hound Dog. “At least it’s country music.”

I don’t correct him that she sings lots of genres, because honestly? I’m impressed and very surprised a man like Dash even knows who she is. And it makes him even more attractive than the shearling coat he has flung open, revealing his broad chest. He’s been working if he’s already warm enough to unbutton. Which is the tiniest, and if I really think about it, inconsequential clue to what Dash gets up for in the middle of the night.

He walks around Hound Dog, lightly checking my work.

I shove my earbuds into my pocket. “You’ve already been out?”

“That’s a question, Sunshine.”

I know Dash doesn’t want me around, and his little nickname isn’t meant to be sweet. It’s probably a reference to my bubbly nature. My yellow towel? Dash probably thinks people who are optimistic are naive. He has no clue my optimism takes true grit. He has no idea how many times I chose this hopeful road of mine over one a lot darker. He doesn’t know I’ve even taken a few detours. But there’s no use telling him that. All that matters to Dash is I do my job right, and even though I’m seriously confident in my attention to detail, the smallest part of me shrivels thinking what he’ll do if he finds I’ve made a mistake.

It’s only the first stall, though… if he came to catch me out, he should have waited until I got through all my checks and the other ranch workers have come and gone from morning jobs.

He pats Hound Dog’s rump. “We’ll go around together this morning. I want to see how you do your morning checks.”

We?Is Dash playing nice and not just waiting for me to mess up?

“Okay,” I agree, trying not to sound surprised. “Let me start by putting this stable blanket away.”

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