“She’s got a way with her,” Lor said from the porch steps.
I bit back my smile. “She’s made more progress than I have.”
“That why you’re standing here moonstruck?”
I scowled at my friend of two decades. “I don’t getmoonstruck.”
“I was wondering where the hell you were since you went to grab a water twenty minutes ago. Now, I find you oblivious to anything but her and the horse.”
My back molars ground together. “I’m worried about the mare.” It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth either.
“This is a bad idea, Ramsey.”
“What is?”
Lor glanced at Shiloh. “How does her sheriff brother feel about her living here?”
My grip on the rail tightened, the wood biting into my palms. “Shiloh’s an adult.”
It pissed me off how everyone treated her like a child as if she’d been frozen in time when she got kidnapped, never allowed to move on with her life.
“I’m aware. That doesn’t mean her family isn’t overprotective. We need this community’s trust so they’ll bring horses in need to us. You piss off brother bear, and he puts the word out? All that could stop.”
“I’ll deal with it.”
My words came out as more of a growl, and Lor held up both hands. “Fine. Just watch your back because I’m going to be gone for almost a month picking up those horses.”
I jerked my head in a nod. I’d watched my back for most of my life. There was no reason for that to change now.
My gaze kept snakingto the side as I worked on cleaning my tack as if Shiloh’s movements had some sort of magnetic pull. She worked the sponge over the leather, clearing away the saddle soap. Her fingers moved deftly, trained by years of practice.
It was a basic task, but still, it hypnotized me. That simple fact had my jaw working back and forth as I forced myself to refocus on my saddle. I’d put off doing a full tack clean, but now that I had help, there was time.
“You sure you don’t need to help out at your parents’?” The last thing I needed was them being any more pissed off at me.
Shiloh shook her head, a few strands of hair pulling loose from her braid. My fingers itched to tuck them behind her ear.
“They’re good with the hands they have right now.”
My gaze caught on her mouth as it pulled down. “What?”
Her head lifted as her brows drew together in confusion.
“You frowned. Something bother you about your dad having all the help he needs right now?”
The corners of her lips tipped up the barest amount. “You’re annoyingly perceptive.”
I chuckled. “Comes from watching the horses I work with.”
“That makes sense.”
“So…” I prodded. Some need, deep inside me, wanted to understand where that hint of unhappiness came from—something I hadn’t felt with anyone else.
Shiloh resumed cleaning the saddle. “They make work for me.”
“It’s a big ranch. I can’t imagine they don’t need help with the horses and whatever else you were doing.”
She worked over a spot on the saddle that didn’t need it. “But they don’t needmeto do it. They don’t count on me. It’s like a make-believe job. Not one I earned. It makes me feel useless.”