Page 17 of Stables Spurs Suits
“I like being on my own,” I reassure her.
“Maybe you’ll find someone you can be alone with is all I’m saying,” she replies, as she flours the counter and starts rolling out the dough.
I don’t tell her how big a contradiction that statement is. I’ve spent years trying to convince her and everyone else that I’m fine, that I’m perfectly happy on my own. I never really understood their need to be surrounded by people. Animals, sure, those I could spend every hour of the day with, but people… I get to the end of a long day, and I crave the quiet, the solitude my little slice of heaven out on Beaker Brothers gives me.
Tires skid to a stop on the gravel outside, and I drink down the last of my lemonade. Sally-May holds out her hand to take the glass.
“Thanks, I’ll see you at dinner,” I say, and she smiles.
“Try to get that young Mr. Matthew to join us. Maybe he’ll acceptyourinvitation.”
“I’ll ask him, but I can’t say my invite will hold more weight than the chef herself,” I say, and I leave her to her baking and go out to meet Preston.
Chapter eight
MATTHEW
A FAMILY DINNER UNLIKE ANY OTHER
“Good boy, Loki. There, you’re all clean and dry and brushed now,” I tell the horse as I lead him back into his stall. Skye is off brushing down the wild horses. Most of them are still too skittish to stand still long enough for a proper bath, but the younger ones and Frigg—their matron of sorts, a large golden mare who’ll get between you and any one of them if she isn’t sure you’re to be trusted—are normally happy to be brushed if it’s done out in the paddocks. Loki, however, still plays dead around everyone except Atlas and me. I have no idea why, and while Skye has begged me more than once to tell him my secret, there just isn’t one to tell.
I pack up the wash equipment and head over to check in with Connor. I am, after all, his assistant.
I find him coaxing the mini highlands back into the shed at the back of the cuddle cove, and I climb over the rail to help.
“Did you have a good day in the cove?” I ask him as one of them slips past me. Wow, these guys are fast.
“Not bad. We only had a handful of guests in the session today, but we’ve got the rest of the cabins checking in on Friday night, so we’ll have lots more cuddles on the weekend for these guys,” he replies, patting one of the dark brown ones on the hind as it passes him on its way into the shed. “How was your day?”
“I helped deliver a foal.”
“Wow, really?”
“Well, I talked to the mom while Atlas helped pull it out, but he says I helped.”
“Then you helped. Atlas doesn’t give credit when it isn’t due.”
“Okay, then, I guess I helped. I got to name it too. I chose Pluto—the planet, not the dog.”
“Wow, you must have really impressed him, then.”
“Why?” I ask as I finally usher the caramel-colored mini cow into the shed section.
“Atlas usually claims naming rights on all the new foals, and the adopted ones too. Basically, if the horse doesn’t come with a name to Beaker Brothers, he names it.”
“He was probably just being nice because I’m helping him figure out the horse trail, and I’ve been helping Skye out with his stable jobs too,” I reason, but judging by his raised eyebrow, I don’t think Connor believes me. It’s true, though. Isn’t it?
“Have you heard anything from the board?” Connor asks as he herds the last of the mini highlands into the shed and closes the lower door to stop them escaping back into the open area.
“Not since your purchase of that cattle ranch in Texas went viral. The company was up two points, so they can’t really complain.”
“Funny how not destroying people’s lives can actually turn a profit,” he laughs.
I filled Connor in a few weeks ago about the board’s plans to send me here to spy on him. It didn’t feel right keeping it from him. It wasn’t like I was actually doing it, but I needed him to know that they thought that’s what I was doing all this time. He could have sent me packing then and there, but he asked me point-blank if I wanted to go back to the city or stay and help him change things, make the company better. I didn’t even have to think about it. I knew I wanted to be part of the future of the Richmont Group with Connor’s morals steering the company into a new, better future.
“The auction house will let us know if any lots don’t sell, then you can decide what to do with them.”
“I set zero reserve on everything, so they’ll just keep lowering the asking price until it’s sold,” he replies, and I feel the frown lines etching deeper into my forehead.
