Page 23 of A Bittersweet Summer

The rainboots have not returned, and have instead been replaced by the muck boots she now wears over a pair of tight, black leggings. Her tank top scoops to reveal tanned collar bones, a pink spreading across her cheeks from days in the sun.

She looks good—happy—like little yellow flowers dotting a sea of green.

April brought rain, but we are heading for a hot day today, as if May is trying to establish itself as the new start of summer. Justa few more days until we jump to the next month, and I’m hardly ready for the girls to start dropping foals. Sleepless nights tend to make me unpleasant. Not that I was pleasant to begin with.

Cassidy always seems to be pleasant.

“Oh wow!” she says, gently setting Rory on the floor as she ogles the coffee bar on the counter. Her megawatt smile could stop traffic. “This looks like fun!”

I grab my mug and dispose of the used cup of coffee grounds, gesturing to the selection. “Help yourself.”

She has a bounce to her step when she passes Grady, as if the coffee bar made her entire week. A small smile tugs at my mouth, but I tamp it down.

“Thanks, that sounds great!” she says, pulling a travel mug from the shelf and starting on her wild concoction. She adds three pumps of the toasted marshmallow syrup, dumps three plain creamers in the cup, picks out the coffee, and while she’s waiting, adds one more creamer for good measure.

I can’t say I’d make the same choices for my drink. Coffee tends to be more of a functional addiction for me, but the excessive sweetener and joy Cass gets from it? It makes sense for her.

When I finally look at Grady, his brows are pinched together, arms folded over his chest. “Really kind of you, Wes,” he says, and I don’t like his tone. Lucky for him, he’s a good worker. “This stuff is pretty pricey, eh?” he asks, shooting me a knowing look. “We should probably use it sparingly.”

I swipe the worn ballcap from the table and place it on my head, taking a sip of my coffee. It warms me on the way down, and despite its bitter taste, I guess I’ve grown to like it. It’s both functionalandenjoyable. “Y’all work hard enough,” I grumble in reply. Cass makes a small, excited sound when her coffee finishes brewing. She gives it a stir with one of the spoons I left out, and beams at me from the first sip.

“Drink as much coffee as you like,” I say, noting the way Grady’s brows raise in surprise. “It’s meant for you.”

I give a parting nod to Cass before exiting the office. I write the lesson assignments on the whiteboard along with a small to-do list at the bottom for anyone with extra time and a desire to keep busy.

Grady and Cassidy exit the office laughing, each with a coffee in their hands.

“Cassidy,” I say, and her smile falls a bit. “We’ve got to get the herd in and prep for this morning's lessons. I’ll need your help with the younger kids today. You might end up leading a horse, but I think the little ones will take well to your personality.”

Her head cocks to the side, blonde ponytail brushing over one bare shoulder. “My personality?” she questions.

“The sunshine and dandelions thing you’ve got going.”

Grady scoffs, and I shoot him a pointed look. “And you,” I start, “I’ll need someone who has been on for a breeding season down at the lower barn. Rose is getting ready to pop any day now, so make sure you give her a good look over. Check if she has colostrum dripping or anything.”

Despite the subtle attitude the kid’s given, he nods. “You’ve got it, Boss.”

When he takes off in the golf cart, I urge Cass to the feed stall, reminding her of who gets what and pointing to the wrinkled list on the wall.

We get buckets filled just in time for the horses to start banging at the side door.

“You ready?” I ask, and she smiles that same smile she had when she got a look at the coffee bar. I question if I should start bringing in donuts on Mondays just to see it again.

It’s dangerous territory—how much I’m bending to see this woman happy, but I try to tell myself there’s no shame inboosting morale. As the HR department, I approve of all methods being used.

“Sure am,” she answers, and I open the door to let everyone in.

Once the herd is in and happily eating, we get to work on grooming the worst of it. For some reason, the Welsh ponies we use for the little ones love the spring mud the most.

Cass works in the stall next to me, a conversational silence stretching between us—interrupted by the sound of horses shuffling around their stalls and finishing their breakfasts.

Since she got here today, there’s been an undercurrent of awareness—like I can feel where she is in the barn—like I am aware of every move she makes.

It makes me question my decision to offer the house at the end of the drive to her. I’m not sure how I’ll handle having her so close. The last thing I need is a distraction from the obligations of this place.

Or maybe that’s exactly what I need—something to think about aside from my full schedule. Unfortunately, that distraction just can’t be her.

Aside from knowing that she enjoys heavily sweetened coffee, owns a pair of yellow rainboots, and sneaks small pieces of lunch meat to Rory when she thinks I’m not looking, I hardly know this woman, and I should keep that careful distance.