Fox stopped suddenly and gripped Dale’s elbow. “Goddamnit. I’m not here to take your friend away. Don’t jeopardize you and Bull’s friendship all because you don’t want him to date me.”
Dale cut his eyes to Fox quickly before he looked away. “You city boys are all alike—you think the damn world revolves around you. You come out here and play cowboy for a little while from your boring-ass corporate jobs and your social-media-addicted lives, then when you’re finished having fun, you leave, not caring about who you left behind.”
Fox tilted his head.
“I mean animals. Animals get attached to people,” Dale bit out. “It’s not right to just walk out on ’em.”
Fox simply nodded. He wouldn’t be able to convince Dale that he wasn’t that kind of man and he wasn’t there to just have a little fun with his friend and then ghost him. Fox would have to prove that. And it was obvious that Bull admired Dale and valued his friendship, so Fox couldn’t do anything to fuck that up either, or else he’d lose any chance with Bull. He had to go at this the right way. He needed to work his trap for Dale.
Once they’d crossed the open property to one of the large barns that housed Bull’s horses, the first thing that hit Fox, as always, was the mustiness. He barely stopped himself from covering his nose not wanting to give Dale any ammunition to use to ridicule him.
Dale checked his watch. “Your lesson is in fifteen minutes… I can’t wait to watch you hit the dirt.”
Fox flipped him off as Dale continued through the barn. “Hey, grab my tack while you’re back there. Make yourself useful for a change.”
“Only because it’ll be more of a hassle for me to explain where the hell everything is,” Dale grumbled on his way around the corner to the tack room.
Fox slowed his steps until he wasn’t making a sound as he continued walking through the spacious barn. An anxious feeling was building inside him that wouldn’t allow him to turn away. The farther he got from the double doors, the darker the interior became and the darker his mood grew. What’s going on? The fine hairs at the base of his skull tingled, and his heart beat fast with something other than fear. Maybe anticipation. Fox carefully scanned the area around him, but there was no threat.
He continued walking, no longer noticing the pungent scent of horse dung, more focused on the unwelcome silence creeping over him. The horses were out for their afternoon exercise, so all of the stalls were empty, or so he thought. Fox made no sound when he moved, which made it easy for him to hear the muted snort to his right. He came to an immediate stop and looked into the stall beside him, noticing first how different it was. The bottom half of the dutch door came up to Fox’s shoulders, and he was able to see the stall was of decent size with two compartments. The front was empty, its thick bedding soiled, the water bucket knocked over. The back was dark, the beautiful creature hiding beyond it ten times darker.
“Jesus,” Fox whispered as the fluttering in his chest expanded, then settled just as fast as it’d come.
The horse snorted again, this time a bit softer. It stood impossibly tall, bigger than any horse Fox had seen on the ranch. The horse’s coat and long mane were so black Fox would’ve named the animal Coal if it were his.
“I don’t know what that sound means?” Fox took a careful step closer to the door, and the horse went quiet. “I hope that’s a good sign because the snorting was seeming like a warning.”
Fox had never heard an animal be so silent, so stealthy. Especially one as imposing as this one.
“You blend right into your own shadow. That’s really something,” Fox said, lowering his voice to a tone that sounded soothing even to him. When had he started talking like that? “I apologize for sneaking up on you. I don’t like it either… but I’m good at doing it.” Fox was only a few feet from the stall now, his thoughts working, moving his body forward. He’d always loved animals, but they didn’t seem to love him back. Sort of like kids. He didn’t know what it was that told him to keep going, but he did, treading carefully.
The horse stayed concealed, its body rigid.
“Why aren’t you out there with your friends, huh? Running and grazing or some shit,” Fox asked, then paused as if the horse would answer him back. He inched closer, wanting… needing a better look into those dark eyes. “Are you hurt?”
The horse huffed, and Fox tilted one side of his mouth. “I understand. I’m a bit of a loner myself.”