Page 43 of Rootbound
“You guys don’t though?” she says, and Charlie snorts a laugh.
“No, I still do some things the old-fashioned way. I figure I’ve got my ancestors rolling in their graves enough as it is.…”
“He’s full of shit. He just likes them,” I say.
At that, the energy shifts into something more pensive until I can practically feel them both grasping for something to talk about next.
Tait’s the first to be successful. “Does LeighAnn not do anything with the equine center anymore? I remember she used to be great at all that… Teaching and training for all the Western timed events and such… She even started that breeding program and hired trainers for cutting horses and everything, right?”
She says it so excitedly, with such admiration… and the familiar, nasty pit of dread and guilt opens up in my stomach.
“Not anymore. We closed down that entity and sold most of our personal stock about three years ago… before the show started production. We needed the room for them, the show’s horses and all that. She’s filled up her personal barn with rescues, now,” Charlie replies, smiling. Covering for me where he shouldn’t have to, making it worse by laying it on further. “It’s simpler that way, anyway. When we got away from traditional cattle ranching, we were going in a bunch of different directionstrying to make money. Keeping the property intact and keeping it a simple dude ranch, inviting outsiders to come, stay, and experience the outdoors and this life, is what really matters anyways.”
Thankfully, we roll up to the edge of the valley, and my torture ends. I accidentally slam the truck door and head to the back of the horse trailer, ready to be deafened by the wind, to clear my head.
“Henry, can you get Tait set up with the helmet and headset? I’m going that way a bit to see if I can glass them,” Charlie calls out, holding up the binoculars in explanation.
Tait grabs her camera and waits as I unload and ready the horses, while James backs the rig out of the trailer. I look over at her expression, expecting to see a hint of worry. It’s like a dune buggy on steroids and mean—if a machine can look mean.
Instead, she’s got a wild, excited look in her eye. She chews her lower lip and smiles a little. That’s when she turns my way and catches me staring again.
The issue here is that I now know how good those lips taste and feel, and I’m just supposed to forget the little noises she makes, too. She must be oblivious to where my thoughts have veered because her smile grows.
“Suit me up.”
I laugh and gesture for her to go into the trailer. The first helmet I place on her head is way too loose. The second one too tight…
“… and this one is juuuuuuusssst right,” she says in a cartoon voice when the third one fits.
“You excited?” I ask, my fingers fumbling around for the buckle underneath her chin.
“It looks fast. Isit fast?”
“Yes, but you’ll be able to communicate with Charlie through the headset the whole time when you push this,” I say, guiding her hand to the button. “Let him know if you need a break or anything.”
“I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” She bats my hands away and buckles the helmet herself before she marches over to the rig.
Charlie coughs behind me. He definitely does not see me looking at her ass from behind my sunglasses, but I whip around anyway and head over to the horses.
“Nice to see you being friendly for a change,” Charlie says to my back.
Heat. The heat is stifling, and I am ready to move and to get some damn air.
Twenty-One
Tait
I fling myself into the machine, and I have to swallow a yelp from the seat burning my ass. The heat feels like it’s increasing by the minute today.
Charlie climbs in on the other side of me and immediately sets to turning knobs on the radio until I hear his voice come through the headset. “Can you hear me?” he asks.
“Yep.” I push down the button under my chin and repeat it, and he nods in response.
“Henry?” he asks. Henry rides up next to us and grabs a walkie talkie that’s strapped to his chest.
“Yup.”
“Same here,” comes James’s voice.