Page 26 of Stables Spurs Suits
“Pretty sure that one’s a girl,” he says, and I look back. Fuck, he’s right.
“That’s what I meant. Come on, Holly, it’s time to get you home.”
***
“That’s all of them.” Mathew beams as he closes the final stall gate and hangs the lead rope up for Quincy. “I’ll come back and add their name plates tomorrow.”
Matthew got the names of these new additions before he placed the order for the plates. He’ll have to place another order once the second foal due is born, but until then, I painted a small scrap of wood with the name Pluto on it and popped it up next to his Momma’s on her stall. “You still want to check out the trail?” he asks, grabbing the shovel and scooping up the few piles of dung dropped as we brought them through, and tossing it into the wheelbarrow to take out later.
“If you’ve got other stuff you need to do, I can just go,” I say.
“Nope, I’m all yours for as long as you want me,” he says, and I love the way his cheeks blush a little pink when he says it. No. Stop. Stay professional here. This is work.
“Umm, I’ll meet you by the start. I’ll just grab the tablet from the house.”
“Sure thing, boss,” he says, jogging out of the stables, and I watch his ass pick up in perfect rounds with every step. Fuck, for a city guy, he sure does look great in a pair of stone-washed jeans.
I grab the tablet and I’m surprised to find he’s holding the two scythes when I meet him.
“I thought you might want to just plot the way this afternoon,” I say, and he scrunches up his nose.
“No way. The sooner we get this thing cleared, the sooner you can teach me how to ride on it.”
“You never give up, do you?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“My father always says, the only way you fail is if you quit trying.”
“Sounds like a smart man,” I reply as we set out along the freshly cleared path. Perry’s made a start, cutting down one of the trees we couldn’t work around, and he’s had the mini dozer out here this morning too. While we were putting the horses away, he was digging out the top layer of grass, following along where we’d cut the day prior. He’s done a good job of it, turning the soil over and leveling it out with the wheels and scoop where he could. With a good layer of gravel on it, tapped down, we might actually end up with a half-decent trail before long.
“If we continue up this way, we’ll come out just on the other side of your trailer,” Matthew says as he starts cutting the long grass down in that direction.
“Not sure Dean wants the trail running too close to my neck of the woods,” I reply, and he stops and turns, a fresh glow on his cheeks.
“Right, ’cause you… like your freedom,” he says with that cheeky grin.
“I like being naked, if that’s what you mean,” I say, somehow finding the confidence I lacked earlier. “You should try it sometime. You might like it.”
“I’ll think about it,” he says, then turns back and starts cutting the other way. “How about we go up this way for another five minutes, then we’ll start cutting around? That should give you enough clearance to make sure you’re not spotted by the guests in nothing but your birthday suit.”
“I’ll be the one leading them most of the time, but just in case one of the other guys is, you might want to make it ten minutes before we turn in.”
“You got it, boss,” he replies, and I mark the direction of the trail we’re taking on the tablet and then start cutting in on the other side behind him. After almost ten minutes of cutting up the hill, Matthew stops at the top where the trees seem to clear out.
“Wow,” he says, staring ahead, his scythe propped beside him like a flag of victory at the top of the hill. “You gotta come see this.”
I cut down a few more feet to catch up and lower my scythe to the ground before taking those last few steps up to him. Stretched out before us, the land dips into Beaker Valley, one of the most beautiful sights you will ever see. And while we had to weave through scattered trees to get up this hill, this side drops off more sharply than I remember it and is covered in thick grass with tiny yellow flowers spotted throughout.
“You don’t get a view like that in the city,” I say, and Matthew turns toward me, only he turns the scythe in his hand at the same time, and I duck as it narrowly misses the top of my head.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he gasps, lowering the scythe slowly as if it’s a bomb that might explode in his hand. My heart is beating a million miles a minute, but then I notice his hands shaking and the almost green tint to his complexion.
“I’m okay, you gotta be quicker than that to take me out,” I laugh, trying to ease his mind.
“That was too close. I can’t believe I was that stupid. I could have killed you,” he says, wringing his fingers in front of him, his hazel eyes glistening like fine glitter as they look everywhere but at me.
“Really, I’m fine,” I say, reaching out and closing my hands over his. “Those things aren’t sharp enough to take my head off. I would probably have needed a few stitches, but it’s okay, I’m fine.” I’m lying. They might look rusty, but they are super fucking sharp.
His desperate gaze finally settles on mine.
