Page 16 of Pick Me

“I barely recognize you all cleaned up,” the woman said when she finally pulled away from hugging Owen.

“Hey, hand me a shovel and I’ll be back in business,” Owen said, giving her an extra squeeze before turning to me. “Brooke,

this is Ivy, my old boss.”

Ivy was one of those people who seemed to be in motion even when standing still. Her white hair was pulled back in a low ponytail,

and the dusty, sleeveless T-shirt showed off tan, well-defined arms that proved she wasn’t just a figurehead on the farm.

She’d met us in the parking area near a brown building that didn’t look anything like the old-timey red barns I wrote about.

The cicadas were screaming in the morning heat, and the sun felt even more intense than in the city. A white-faced horse poked

his head out to scrutinize us, and I had to keep from cooing over it, because horses weren’t a big deal to people who worked

with them every day.

To me, they were a mystery I’d spent too long pretending to understand.

“Nice to meet you.” She shook my hand with an unsurprisingly hard grip. “Owen tells me you’re a writer?”

“On good days I am,” I replied. “But I have a feeling I’m going to find all sorts of inspiration here. Thanks for letting me nose around.”

“Anything for this guy.” Ivy hitched her thumb at Owen. “You sure you won’t come back to work for me?”

“Maybe someday.” He grinned at her. “Now, who have you got for us today?”

Ivy glanced at me. “I think Cedar is a good fit. Right?”

Owen gave me a quick once-over, as if he’d never seen me before. “Perfect choice. Are we good to go?”

“Do your thing.” Ivy swept her hand toward the barn just beyond us. “Holler if you need me. Oh, your buddy Josh is here. I

know you guys used to pal around. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”

My stomach dropped. I turned to study Owen, expecting to see a glower, but his expression was as neutral as ever.

“Fantastic,” he said convincingly. “That’s great.”

Owen gave Ivy a nod, then started for the barn. I had to jog to catch up to him.

“Should we leave?” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth even though no one was around. “It’s fine if you want to go,

I swear.”

“It’s a big barn,” he said, staring straight ahead. “We won’t run into him if we don’t want to.”

“Yeah, but what if Ivy tells him you’re here, and he comes to find you.” I envisioned how it would play out and reflexively

smacked him in the stomach, getting a shocked “wunf” out of him. “What if he wants to gloat ?”

Owen just kept stomping through the barn like he hadn’t heard me.

“You know what? I have an idea.” I kept talking to fill the silence. “I write about it in my books; now we’re going to do it in real life.”

Heat rushed to my face. Owen had just finished one of my books with plenty of “doing it” in a barn, but that wasn’t what I

meant.

“Fake dating,” I blurted out. “If Josh comes anywhere near us, I’m morphing into your devoted girlfriend. I hope you can handle

some PDA, because I’m going to grab your hand and squeeze it until your fingers turn blue. I’m going to hang on you like we’re

magnetized. Just wait until you see my fluttery eyelashes.”

Owen allowed the faintest hint of a grin at my threats. “He won’t come find me. Sophie convinced him that I was just her friend,

but I still got the feeling that he was threatened by me.”

“As he should be.” I nodded vigorously.

Owen came to a stop by an open stall. “Wait here. I’ll go get Cedar.”

I sighed, feeling responsible for whatever drama was coming for us. As much as I didn’t want a confrontation, I was totally

game to show off my acting skills.

And holding Owen’s hand wasn’t the worst thing.

I finally remembered why we were at the barn and grabbed my notebook, because every single thing around me could be helpful

in a moment when I couldn’t manufacture emotion but I still needed word count. I took a few photos while I waited, then threw

on a riding helmet that was hanging on the wall and took a photo wearing a goofy expression to send to Wes.

Motorcycle or horse?

Horse. Book research.

Go you

A photo followed of a cup filled with brown sludge that looked like something you’d find in a diaper, but I knew it was one

of his disgusting smoothie concoctions.

No thank you, xo.

The barn was busy with other riders, a couple of chickens, and a very friendly orange barn cat. I was surrounded by a world

that I’d pretended to know all about for my last dozen books, and now that I was in the middle of it, I could see how much

of the vibe I’d missed. Sure, we weren’t on a Montana ranch, but a horse farm in New Jersey could still provide tons of insights.

I had my head down taking a few notes about the flooring, so I didn’t see Owen leading Cedar until he was a few feet away.

When I finally looked up, he was striding in my direction with his eyes locked on me, embodying the smoldery cowboy thing

I’d written about but never witnessed in real life.

My heart did a reflexive backflip, because this was yet another side of Owen.

He was wearing a little side smile, like he was proud and excited and couldn’t wait to introduce me to the chestnut beast walking next to him.

I tried not to make it obvious that I was memorizing everything about the way he was stalking toward me.

How his hand gripped the lead casually, like he was holding onto Marti’s leash and not guiding a beast that probably weighed several hundred pounds.

The confidence in his gait, even when Cedar veered to the side and threw his head in the air.

The way he spoke softly to Cedar after he fell back in line.

I finally needed to fully admit it to myself; Owen looked good . Seeing him all competent and cowboy-adjacent forced me to acknowledge what I’d been ignoring.

No, he looked better than “good.”

Owen was fucking hot.

There was something undeniably sexy about a person in their element, especially when it was an unexpected one. To me, Owen

read “city,” but his ease around the barn suggested there was more to the Big Gripper than I realized.

“Wow,” I breathed as the pair came to a stop in front of me.

“I know. He’s a stunner, huh?” Owen ran his hand down the side of the horse’s smooth neck.

I cleared my throat and nodded.

“Let me get him by you,” Owen said, nodding to the open area behind me.

I realized that I was mutely staring at the pair. I jumped out of the way.

“He’s so big ,” I said as Owen got the horse rigged up with the strapping system that would hold Cedar in place in the stall.

“Cedar? Nah, he’s Welsh pony and quarter horse cross on the small side. Now c’mere.”

I took a baby step toward Owen. Cedar was eyeballing me like he knew I was a novice.

“Ready?”

Owen asked it as if he could sense my hesitation. I wasn’t scared. I just wanted Cedar to like me, and equally important, I wanted Owen to be impressed with how quickly I took to horse chores.

“So ready.”

“Okay, the first step is the currycomb.” Owen held up a pink, oval plastic brush with hard little bristles that slipped over

his hand and rested on his palm. He moved beside Cedar and started making rapid circles on the horse’s side. “This loosens

up any dirt or stray hairs.”

I stood off to the side taking notes. “And that’s important why?”

“Well, first it’s a good way to take a physical inventory of your horse. You’ll see any bites or bumps that need attention.

Plus brushing away buildup prevents sores from debris under the saddle.” He slid the comb off his hand and held it out to

me. “Your turn.”

I glanced between Cedar and Owen. “Just like that? No safety talk?”

“Good point. Remember when you walk behind him, stay close and keep one hand on him. No loud noises or abrupt movements. Other

than that, Cedar’s pretty bombproof.”

“Can he tell if I’m... tentative?” I asked.

“Oh yeah.” Owen smiled at me as he nodded. “They’re very perceptive, down to your body language and facial expressions.”

Sort of like Owen himself. Fantastic.

I forced a grin to hopefully convince Cedar that I was unfazed by his mysterious horse-ness. Owen held the comb out to me

again.

“Don’t be stressed; he’s used to children and newbies,” he encouraged me.

I placed my notebook on the ground and slipped the comb on. Cedar might’ve been a not-so-big horse who was gentle with kids, but to me he was a gigantic unknown creature with a profiler’s skills. I placed the comb against the horse’s smooth side and started making circles.

“Nice, there you go,” Owen said, sounding just like he did when I managed to serve to the right side of the court.

I half expected Cedar to jump away from me, but the horse stood patiently while I worked my way around his body. He was solid,

like cement coated in velvet. Owen went on to present me with two additional brushes, all the while dropping little insights

as I prepped Cedar that made me want to grab my notebook.

“One last step before we get to tack,” Owen said. He placed the soft brush I’d just used into the plastic storage tub. “The

hoof pick. Now this gets addictive.”

He walked to Cedar and stood shoulder to shoulder so that he was facing the horse’s tail, then ran his hand down Cedar’s leg,

gently lifted it, and turned the horse’s foot over in his hand. He pulled a black plastic tool out of his back pocket that

had a small silver dagger at a right angle on the end of it.

“You really need to get in there to get the packed crap and rocks out,” he said as he scraped the pick against Cedar’s hoof.

“All along the frog, right here.” He dug in next to the triangular part of Cedar’s hoof and pulled out satisfying clumps of

dirt. “And along the wall.” He flipped the tool to the brush section. “Then sweep off any excess.”

Watching him work while tossing out yet more terminology I’d never heard made me a little swoony.

He stood up and wordlessly handed the tool to me.

“Now you.”

I widened my eyes at him. “By myself?”

“You’ve got this, B,” he said in the same warm voice he used to coax a soft dink out of me. “Rear leg. Go.”

He patted my back, and it felt like heat zipped through my entire body, then pooled where his hand had rested on me.

“Like this?” I lined up by Cedar’s hip facing his tail, then bent over and looked over my shoulder at Owen.

And caught him checking out my ass.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, averting his eyes. “Run your hand down his leg and up you go.”

I tried to mind meld with Cedar, seeing as horses probably possessed the gift of telepathy in addition to strong observational

skills, to beg him to go easy on me, then slid my palm down his leg. The clairvoyance must’ve worked, because the next thing

I knew I was holding a big old horse hoof upside down in my hand.

“I did it!”

“Of course you did,” Owen said. “Never doubted you for a second. Now get in there and pick.”

I started off gently tracing the pick along Cedar’s hoof and it was enough to loosen some dirt.

“Harder,” Owen insisted, and once again I needed to refrain from a “that’s what she said” joke.

With a little more muscle, the packed dirt started falling from his hoof.

“So remind me how this is sexy?” I asked, quickly glancing up as I pried out more crap.

Owen snorted out a laugh. “ You’re the writer. I’m sure you can come up with something.” He paused. “Maybe not about this specific part of the process. Speaking

of, you can move on to the next one.”

I remembered his advice about keeping a hand on Cedar as I walked behind him, then got to work on the hoof, which Cedar offered to me without hesitation.

“What’s the relationship between your characters?” Owen asked.

I picked out a little rock that was packed in with the dirt. “He’s a grumpy cowboy who’s trying to transform his family’s

busted-down ranch into a viable tourist destination, and she’s a chef who lost a bet and now has to spend the season working

in his kitchen. They hate each other. He’s too closed off and she’s too headstrong. He falls first, but he burned too many

bridges with her so he has to woo her to win her. Oh yeah, and they have a drunken one-night stand, and she winds up pregnant.”

“Wow, okay then. Next hoof,” Owen instructed. “So wait... she doesn’t like him?”

I was picking like a pro now. “Not at first.”

When I glanced at Owen, he was frowning. “Yeah, that’s a tricky scenario. Pursuing a woman who isn’t interested only leads

to heartbreak. Take it from me.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Clearly the barn ghosts were doing their thing, unearthing Owen’s old hurts.

“Well, he was a dick to her at first, so he brought it upon himself,” I clarified.

“What if this grooming process is a moment of change between them?” Owen mused. “She thinks he’s an asshole, but then she

sees how caring he is with his horse, and it shows a totally new side of him?”

“Ooh, what if he adopted a horse that was abused, and Abby watches him gentle his way closer? Like, this grooming stuff is

a bridge to a new relationship?”

“For the horse and the human,” Owen added. “He catches Abby watching him, and he invites her to help since the horse isn’t afraid of women.” He glanced closer at the hoof I was working on. “You’re done.”

I stood up and rubbed Cedar’s neck. “I think we’re onto something. You keep it up and I might owe you a cowriter credit. It’s

an unpaid gig, of course.”

He chuckled. “You can keep your paycheck—don’t worry. I’ll be right back. I need to grab the saddle.”

I watched him walk away and discovered that he’d been hiding a darn good butt in his saggy court shorts.

“How am I doing so far?” I whispered to Cedar.

He flicked his ears around, and I realized that I knew nothing about horse body language.

“Are you happy or sad?” I asked him. “Am I standing too close to you?”

I stroked his nose, and he flicked his head away, making the cross ties jingle.

“That’s a ‘no,’ huh?”

“You telling Cedar your secrets?” Owen’s voice echoed from behind me.

“Just trying to figure him out,” I answered. “This is such a different world for me.”

He placed the saddle on a rail behind him.

“Well, get ready for yet another new horizon, because it’s time to ride.”