ChapterThree
“…wisebecause I follow Nature as the best of guides and obey her as a god; and since she has fitly planned the other acts of life’s drama, it is not likely that she has neglected the final act as if she were a careless playwright.”
I looked up from the book of Cicero’s letters, this one about aging, to find Gemini munching on hay at the other side of the paddock. I’d decided to try formal letters from the “old dead Greeks” or in this case a Roman, as the cadence of the writing felt more soothing than just me reading off facts or offering my thoughts. The Appaloosa seemed to be digging it. Or it could have been the fresh sweet hay. Whatever the reason he was calm. I sat where I had before, across the pen from him, book on my lap, head bowed, peeking up every so often. This was a game of patience. Building trust couldn’t be rushed.
“Do you ever sleep in?” Every nerve receptor I possessed jolted to life at the sound of Will’s voice.
“My hours are eight to five with an hour lunch,” I replied, giving him a sideways glance. His hair was still wet, the scent of pineapple wafting under my nose. Man I loved pineapple. Did his skin taste like it as well? What about his spunk? I’d read…well, a lot of unsubstantiated claims. Better to not think about the taste of his semen. Time to focus on work. “I don’t like to be late. And I need to spend time with Gemini every day so…”
“Yeah, I guess so. You’re just the most uptight dude I’ve ever met.” He climbed up to sit beside me on the top rail. His hip rested against mine, his elbow as well. My dick was not getting the message about talking about chores. “So what old dead Greek are we boring poor Gemini with this morning?”
The horse’s ears flicked at the sound of his name, but he didn’t move from his hay bag. A pair of small birds, wrens perhaps, were picking around in the dirt by Gemini’s hooves, pecking at the small seeds that were falling from the hay.
“Roman. An old dead Roman.” I kept my gaze on the birds as my body hummed with awareness of the man sitting so damn close. Too close. Yet not close enough. “He was a strong believer in the Roman Republic and spent some time in the army before going on to become a lawyer. He quickly became curule aedile and then praetor.”
“Pretend I don’t know what those terms are.”
“Oh, sorry. A curule aedile was an elected position. Kind of like a magistrate. They took care of public buildings, streets, buildings, shit like that. A praetor was a title gifted to a man by the Roman government. They were like judges but could also command armies if the need arose.”
“Dude, you sound like some stuffy old professor.” He chuckled and I bristled up.
“You asked.” I snapped the book shut, Gemini’s head coming up at the sharp tone of my voice. I pressed my lips together to keep from saying anything more. Why did Will Abbott make me so damn angry so easily?
“I wasn’t making fun of you.” I glanced to the side and the full power of those stunning eyes of his hit me like a bolt from the skies. “Seriously, I wasn’t.” His voice was soft, his gaze gentle as he eyed me. “I think it’s cool. That you’re so smart. I barely got through high school.”
“I’m not all that smart. I just know stupid random shit.”
“How do you know all that shit though?”
I patted the hardcover on my lap. That made Will smile. Thank God I had my toes tucked round the second rail or I’d have toppled over. He was so beautiful when he smiled that pure, honest smile of his. Not that smirky one but the genuine smile. My pulse tripled as my ears grew warm.
“Reading is—”
“Yeah, yeah, fundamental.” We both chuckled a bit. Gemini wandered closer, bits of hay dangling from his mouth. He stopped way short of petting range but that was fine. It was a small step—or steps—but I’d take it. Will, perhaps sensing this was something big by the look of sheer joy on my face, sat quietly at my side.
“Read a bit more about Cicero. To the horse. He seems to like your voice.”
“And yours,” I added then found a letter from Cicero to Atticus.
The horse wasn’t the only one here that liked his voice. We read for another ten minutes then Kyle walked past, tossing looks at us that were easily read. The sharp glance meant to get moving because the weeds wouldn’t spray themselves. Will watched from the railing as I slipped down into the paddock and slowly approached Gemini, halter in my hand. His big brown eyes flitted from the red halter to me.
He didn’t seem to have any issues with any bridle, hackamore, or halter I’d used so far so his unease with humans came from a different place or item. I might never know. Perhaps he’d been whipped with a quirt. We had none here at the ranch. The big boss in the big house had quite a few edicts as did his husband when it came to animal welfare. Whipping animals to make them obey was one of the top ten do not do commandments which suited me fine. I’d been taught that all the earth’s creatures deserved respect, compassion, and freedom from mistreatment. Even if they did shit on your porch.
“Would you like to go back to the stables now?” I asked as I moved closer. Trying to ease myself into his space was a slow go. There were possibly a thousand things he might be afraid of: plastic bags, umbrellas, snakes, balloons. The list was endless. Chex once came upon a discarded boot when we were riding along the Jante River last summer. She literally lost her mind. If not for having a good amount of experience in the saddle she would have tossed me. After I’d gotten her calmed down, we had a long discussion about boots and how they were not magical transportation devices that would whisk her to another place and time. She wasn’t having it. To this day if she sees a lone boot, she gets skittish. So yeah, Gemini could be afraid of a million things from butterflies to puddles. But so far I’d worked out it wasn’t books, bridles, other horses, or barn cats.
I eased closer, speaking softly about silly things then slid the halter on without incident. He followed me well, no shoving or biting or jerking, not even when Will joined us.
“He’s getting used to you,” I said as we made our way to the stable, Will carrying my library book as he walked beside me.
“Yeah, he’s a pretty guy.”
I wanted to ask if he thought I was a pretty guy but that would be pathetic. So I said nothing at all. Once the gelding was in his stall, Will and I fed, watered, and spoke to him as well as Chex—as if I would dare to not speak to her—and Kima.
“You boys still here?” I spun from Chex’s gate to see Nate, the foreman, walking toward us. Will stiffened and his aura shifted with speed. Gone was the easy smile and soft shoulders. Now he was tense and wary. The man had some real issues with older men and authority figures.
“Just getting ready to go,” I replied.
“Huh, okay. I thought you’d left. I didn’t see the jugs of organic weed killer in the supply shed. Did you load up the wagons already?” I glanced at Will. He shook his head. When I glanced back at Nate, I noted the look of disgust on his face. “If someone stole those I’m going to be incredibly pissed off.”