Page 72 of Brett and Rowdy
“Shit, darlin’, you were a teenager. You were hurting.” He sighed. “I don’t want to dredge that up unless you really need to. At least not today.”
“Nah. I was just making a teenager angst comparison, really. I think I am good with it. Like you said a few times, we’re adults now. It’s time to get on with whatever else we have a shot at. Or not, if it turns out we don’t.”
Goddamn, he really wanted to see Brett’s expression right now. Sometimes groping along in the dark with human relations was not the best way to go about things, but what choice did he have?
“I want us to have a shot, for sure.”
Brett squeezed his hand. “Me too. Now, how about a real tour of the house? I was totally out of it last night.”
“Sure, darlin’. That way you can figure out how many tables and art pieces I need.”
“You know it.” Brett’s chuckle was warm and happy. “You got way too much cash to have shitty art, and you’re tactile, not about serene, framed stuff.”
“I’ll let you lead, Mr. Artist. At least on that. Now, on the tour?”
Brett hooted. “I’m all yours.”
Lord have mercy. Rowdy could only hope that was true.
Chapter Sixteen
Brett felt pretty damn lazy by day four.
He loved the ebb and flow of the ranch, loved how the big house worked, with people coming to see Rowdy. Madison was a hoot, and he’d met her horses and her bull and all the staff that was close and not in the upper pastures.
And it was wild and wooly and wonderful. But he was used to hammering and creating and working. So he was feeling kind of… teetering on the edge of decadence.
Rowdy was on a conference call, too, so he was teetering on the edge of decadence, so to speak.
Maybe he’d ask to borrow a vehicle and run into town. Tonight was Rose’s night off, he’d heard. He could make spaghetti and meatballs, which was his specialty…
“Brett!” Madison came flying in, flushed and panting. “Do you have a minute?”
He nodded, standing up immediately to follow her. “Sure, kiddo. What’s up?”
“The farrier, Luis, was shoeing Big Boy, and he got kicked right in the chest. He’s on his way to urgent care for an X-ray, but Big Boy only has one shoe on!”
Big Boy he’d met yesterday. The monster gelding was a Clydesdale that Rowdy had rescued from a bad rodeo show situation. He was big and sweet and gentle, but Madison had told him his hooves had been in awful shape when they’d gotten him, and he was picky about who touched them.
“Well, I—what tools I brought are still in your truck, but—” They weren’t enough to do a full job.
“Luis left everything you need. And I’ll go grab your bag.” She gave him a pleading look. “Please.”
“Sure. Take me to him.” Like they weren’t already walking.
“Thanks! I have the golf cart outside.”
He nodded, texting Rowdy that he would be out in the horse barn. Then he followed Madison outside, grabbing his gimme cap from beside the door. Thankfully, he’d stomped into his boots earlier.
Sure enough, when he got to the barn, Big Boy was mostly shoeless and cross-tied, stamping and fussing about it too.
Shit.
“Do I have treats to give him?” Brett asked.
“Sure. I’ll get them.”
There were two hands just sort of standing around, watching Big Boy, and he waved them off. “You’re just making him nervous, guys. Let’s give him some space and let him breathe.”
