7. Remi

Chapter 7

Remi

“N umber four!” I yelled at Angie’s retreating back, crumpling the paper she set in my hand, and shoving it into my pants pocket.

I laughed to myself. Getting under her skin like a burr on a hog’s hide brought more joy to me than I should admit. The smile dropped from my lips as I faced her horse.

Mae had stuck her head out the stall, and her big, glassy eyes stared into my soul, pupils so wide only a sliver of brown circled the black. Maybe I could leave the stall dirty for one night. But then Angie would have the satisfaction of knowing that I was terrified of this massive animal.

Plus, I couldn’t lose sight of my goal. Anything was worth getting out of the family business and gaining my freedom. One final job. I wouldn’t let a few farm chores—or a horse—get in the way of my goals.

With as much stealth as I could, I slid the stable door open, stepped inside and closed it, keeping my eyes locked on Mae. The mare threw her head up and down and pawed at the ground when I invaded her space. Visible clouds of hot air puffed out her nostrils with each of her snorts and whinnies.

“Relax,” I told her. “I want to be here about as much as you want me here.”

I held the pitchfork out in front of me. Up to the moment Angie handed the pronged torture device to me, I’d thought they didn’t exist anymore, only used for movie props. Surely, people didn’t still use them—like in real life. Of course Angie did on the daily, her world far separated from mine.

That woman could start an argument with an empty house. She drove me nuts. Thankfully, I didn’t think she’d overheard any of the conversation with my father. Given he’d called during an after-hours international meeting, I had to take it. Every answer I’d given him about my progress here far from satisfied him. Didn’t matter. Matthew could deal with him.

I tightened my grip on the pitchfork.

The horse moved back and forth in front of the exit to the pasture, refusing to give me the space I needed to get my job done and get out of here. Guaranteed Angie was somewhere out in the open air enjoying herself while I faced off with a horse—who’d just dropped a fresh pile of manure.

“Whew.” I waved my hand in front of my nose and gagged on the scent in the air that was as pleasant as an overfilled porta-potty. “What’s in the hay you’re eating? It does not agree with you.”

Mae whinnied and tossed her head at me. Apparently, she didn’t appreciate my humor. Staying as far away from Mae as possible, I worked my way to the closed gate leading to her pasture, opened it, then, with my back pressed against the wall, I side-stepped my way back to the pitchfork.

“You should try eating that fresh springtime grass in your pasture.” I waved my hand, shooing the mare away from me. “The sunset is beautiful tonight. Wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

The exasperating horse didn’t listen. She stopped prancing back and forth and planted herself in the middle of the stall. I was living in an alternate reality, far from my salaried staff and pool house livin’ days in Dallas. My mother would be appalled to see me like this.

Come on, Remi. Don’t let your fear show.

I straightened my shoulders and scooped the first pile of manure, only to look around for the wheelbarrow I’d left outside the stall. Tossing the poop and the pitchfork in the corner, I slid the door open, and at that precise moment, Angie’s horse chomped down on my left butt cheek. I yelped and tumbled forward onto the ground.

I struggled to my knees and flipped around to look at the horse in the eyes, but she didn’t spare me a second glance as she trotted past me and out the barn door. In retrospect, I probably should have closed the door before I’d opened the stable.

“Shit!” I stood and sprinted out the door. Getting Mae to go back into the stable would be about as easy as pissing up a rope.

I scanned the area. Good, Angie wasn’t anywhere around. I could get the horse back in the stall, and no one would know I’d let her out. By the time I caught sight of Mae, she was already in the yard, nibbling on the grass and the budding bushes. She didn’t wear a bridle or a rope that I could use to grab and lead her back to the stable.

“Hey!” I yelled at Mae. She lifted her head and blew out a puff of air with almost a grunt. “Why do you have to make me look bad?”

The horse pawed at the ground and then returned to eating the budding leaves on the shrubs. I moved closer to the horse’s position—but not too close—and waved my arms.

“Go on. I promise I’ll have your accommodations up to a five-star standard if you go back to your home.” Making sure I remained in front of Mae, I took a few more careful steps in her direction.

Looping my arms around her neck, I wrapped my fingers in her mane. I dug my heels in the ground and pressed back with all my weight, trying to get her to move forward. In one fluid movement, she sat on her haunches and tossed her head, sending me sprawling onto the flat of my back. Closing my eyes against the blinding sun and fluffy white clouds in a sky that went on forever, I lay on the damp, prickly grass.

Mae put her face in mine. Her hot breath rustled my hair, and I opened my eyes. Her snout, silhouetted against the sun, dripped onto my face, but I was beyond caring—until she nibbled on my hair, giving it a good yank.

“Ouch!” I bellowed and rolled to my feet.

Damn horse was a few sandwiches shy of a picnic and as mean as a mama wasp. A clip from Sleeping Beauty came to my mind. Specifically, the part where Prince Phillip fell from his horse and denied his horse some carrots.

I’d gone through a phase where I’d been obsessed with that film, and I still maintain it had a badass ending with a dragon and a magic sword.

Mae lifted her head from the bush as I ran to my truck, threw open the door, and retrieved the baggy of my salvation from my lunch cooler. Closing the door, I returned to the backyard.

Four orange carrots lay in my palm, contrasting with my yellow glove. I extended them to Mae, and she inched toward me, glancing behind her as if to see if this was a trick. I took a step back, and she quickened her pace, picking the carrots off my palm with her lips.

“Ah, you like those, do you?” I dumped the rest of the carrots into my hand and backed toward her stable at a more rapid pace.

She plodded along with me as I walked into the barn and through the stable door. I resisted doing a victory dance. Now all I had to do was get her to walk through the gate at the back, connecting her stall with her private pasture. She paused with three feet in her dirty straw bedding and only one in the grass.

“I guess I’ll eat these if you don’t want them.” Selecting the cleanest carrot, I stuck it in my mouth and chomped down.

Mae whinnied and trotted toward me. When she reached me, I dropped the carrots on the ground and raced past her to the stable.

I closed the gate between us. “Ha! I got you.” I pointed my finger at her, but she only flicked one ear toward me while rummaging through the early spring grass for the carrots.

I cleaned the stable in peace and pulled out my list to see what was up next.

The chicken coop. Oh joy. Something I’d always wanted to do.