Page 14 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy
“You didn’t know,” she presses. “That’s because you probably didn’t know what a horse looked like close up until today.”
“It’s… not obvious.”
“Yes, it is,” she says through tight teeth. “And what are you gonna do when she goes into labor, huh? Do you know how to deliver a foal?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer. She moves on to the next stall, heaving the pitchfork back up in her hands, and unceremoniously starts picking up clumps of straw and dung. Watching her, I can’t deny a sinking feeling in my gut.
“You should have hired help before coming here,” she mutters, still working, not looking at me.
My face burns. She’s right. And I hate her for it.
“I’m not abusing these animals,” I hiss.
“I didn’t say you were,” she counters, not missing a beat. “But anyone who knows animals can see you’re neglecting them out of ignorance. You really have no idea what you need to be doing.”
“That’s not true!”
“Then tell me how many times a horse needs to be groomed in a week,” she fires back, shoving the pitchfork into the hay with force.
“Well—”
“And do you know how often they need to be exercised? Or how to clean their hooves? When was this one last dewormed?”
Each question is like a battering ram hitting my very foundation. I’m cut down by her words, and the cold reality of it all strikes me hard. I don’t know these things.
I don’t know any of it.
Sweat pricks my brow as the weight of responsibility crushes down on me. This was supposed to be a simple escape, a retreat from my stressful life back in Houston, a way to avoid the next panic attack or an eventual heart attack.
Now it’s turning into possibly the worst decision I ever made.
“Why didn’t Mack tell me one of the mares is pregnant?” I mutter, saying the first thing I can think of.
She shrugs. “Maybe he didn’t know. I only knew because I was here every day.”
We both fall silent then, her work the only sound in the stable.
After a moment, I scratch the back of my head. “You shouldn’t have come back here.”
“I care about these animals.”
“And I respect that, but it’s not your place anymore.” It’s harsher than I mean it to be.
Yes, I need help. But not from her.
“Fine,” she spits out.
She puts the pitchfork down, grabs her car keys, and heads for the door. But not before getting in one last word.
“You have your fun, city boy… I’ll be here to pick up the pieces when you fail.”
“Leave,” I hiss. “Now.”
I follow her out of the stable, making sure she actually walks to her car.
“You didn’t even trust me for one night,” I say as she opens her car door. “Not even a few hours.”
“I was right, wasn’t I?” she shouts. Her car door slams, and then the wheels kick up dust in my face as she pulls away.
