Page 5 of Stable Hand

“Take a deep breath. Count to ten,” Mr. Marsland said, closing the album.

When Connor brought the water, I downed it quickly and leaned back in the chair, taking my hat off again and fanning myself with the brim. “I’m sorry, I just…wow. I was expecting horses. Real horses, you know?”

“Is he okay?” Connor asked. “He looks like he might pass out.”

I sat up straight. “I’m okay. I’m fine. I didn’t know this wasn’t a regular ranch. I thought it was a ranch ranch.” My voice sounded strangled.

“I’m sorry the email didn’t go through. I didn’t get a notification,” Connor said, closing the door and taking the seat beside me.

“It’s okay,” I said, staring at Connor and finding it hard to believe both he and Mr. Marsland were running a stable of…human ponyboys. For what reason exactly? God, I had so many questions.

“I’m still confused. Do you need a—” I swallowed. “—a stable hand?” I tried, unsuccessfully, to meet Marsland’s eyes. “Or not?”

Mr. Marsland smiled. “We need a stable hand, Jensen. And your qualifications are excellent. But you have to be aware you won’t be grooming horses. You’ll be grooming men.”

Grooming men.

I made a half laugh, half gasp. A bloom of heat, which had begun in my cheeks, expanded over my entire face and neck.

Connor smiled. “I think he’s still in shock.”

Mr. Marsland said, “Our stable hands are responsible for the same things they’d be doing if we did house real horses. Keeping the barns and equipment tidy and clean, maintaining the grounds, and making sure the stock is clean and fed.”

I blinked. “The stock?”

Mr. Marsland leaned forward. “Do you have any issues with nudity, Jensen?”

I thought for a moment. Was getting aroused at the sight of a naked man in pony gear a problem? I cleared my throat. “No, Sir.”

“You don’t have a problem being around naked men or women?”

I coughed. “Uh. Nope. Not a problem, exactly.” I fiddled with the edge of my hat, looking down at the bulge in my pants. Maybe getting aroused was a problem.

“You like looking at naked men and women?”

My gaze drifted up to meet the frank expression on Mr. Marsland’s face. “I, uh.” I cleared my throat again and nodded curtly. “Men.”

“I’m not allowed to ask you about your orientation, Jensen. But being gay or bi might make your job easier and more enjoyable.”

I shifted in my seat, trying to make my dick behave. “Are you fucking serious?”

“About what?”

“About the fact my job would be looking after…gorgeous, athletic men, and cleaning them, and, like, grooming them, and…um…keeping them pretty?” My voice went up three octaves at the end of the sentence.

“I think we’ve got ourselves a new stable hand, Connor.”

“Yeah, I’d say so. Much as I thought I’d completely screwed up when I took a look at Mr. Moriarty here.”

I blinked at Connor, then at Mr. Marsland.

“You look like a cowboy, Jensen,” Connor said with a grin.

I looked down at myself and at the hat in my hand. My voice sounded faint and faraway when I spoke. “Yeah. I guess I kind of am one. Always been with horses. My whole life.”

Mr. Marsland shook his head, smiling at me. “I’m sorry. I assumed, since you were referred by Mitchell Garr, he’d explained everything.”

I shrugged. “He only said your ranch was a great place to work.”