Off to the Races: A Small Town Enemies to Lovers Romance (Gold Rush Ranch Book 1)
Off to the Races: Chapter 6

What. A. Prick.

Who does that to a woman they’ve basically just met, let alone their employee? The guy’s gumption is absolutely out of this world. Typical for a guy with a face like that and more money than sense. They’re all the same. Altogether too confident, knowing there are no real repercussions for their inappropriate behavior. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

As I head towards Double Diablo’s paddock, I replay our interaction in my head. I’d be lying to myself if I pretended that his proximity didn’t shake me. He stood close enough for me to know he smells like almonds. That alluring amaretto sort of smell, but not over-the-top, just the right amount. I expected something harsh and obnoxious—just like his personality. It didn’t match up. I couldn’t reconcile it.

It obviously muddled my brain. Because while I sniffed him like a bloodhound in heat, I couldn’t help but check him out more closely. I blame the jetlag and the wine I had already slammed back on an empty stomach before dragging my ass up there to find a knife. Like a brainless sap, I savored the way he filled out his suit. It was honestly criminal.

I’ve always had this theory that there are two types of men. The ones who look edible in a suit, and the ones who look edible in their birthday suit. Suit guys are a little more slender than I like. Naked guys, a little too bulky to pull off that GQ suit look. I’m not saying I’d kick either out of bed if they knew what they were doing, it’s just an observation. Like Goldilocks, my ideal man is somewhere down the middle. And Vaughn Harding is right down the middle.

I stood over him, gawking like a teenager, purely for research purposes, of course. I analyzed the way his suit sleeves bunched up around his broad shoulders and then let my eyes trace the line from his briefs on his firm ass in a completely clinical fashion. After collecting data, I can now conclude that under different circumstances I would climb the man like a tree.

Reaching my spot in front of Double Diablo’s gate, I sink onto soft grass, so thick it feels like a rug beneath me. I’ve opted to call him DD, like Deedee, because I really can’t handle his name. He needs something as cute as he looks, that I can whisper soothingly into his pointy little ears when he finally lets me close enough. His initials are short and simple and good enough for now.

I startled him when I came over the fence behind his paddock earlier, but he didn’t race at me like a fire-breathing dragon charging out of its cave. Instead, he watched me walk to where I’m now sitting, gave me a suspicious look, and then turned his butt to me.

Upon my return, he’s still facing away from me. The only recognition he gave me was a sulky little foot stomp and the flick of his right ear, pointing it back at me as a way of hearing what I’m doing.

Sitting cross-legged on the grass, I break off a piece of a carrot and toss it into his paddock. I cut myself a few slices of cheese with my shiny new Gold Rush Ranch switchblade and lay them on top of a freshly torn piece of French bread. I sip my red wine from the bottle because I also forgot a glass. The small victory in this day is that this bottle has a screw top, no corkscrew required.

Leaning back on my elbows, I stretch my legs out and try to relax while I watch day turn to night, twilight laying itself over the farm like a blanket. All in the good company of one grumpy little black horse.

A few small sandwiches later, DD finally turns his head towards the carrot I threw. Stubborn little bugger. He turns a little further so I can spy his eyeball stretching in its socket to see me, without giving away that he’s actually looking at me. He looks like one of those guys who’s trying to check you out discreetly but failing miserably. Except when he does it, it’s cute.

The stallion looks back at the carrot and takes one small step towards it, drops his head, and brushes his lips across the bare patch of dirt where it landed to pick it up. Crunching away, he eyes me more openly now. I casually toss him another piece, enjoying watching the way his mind works.

He startles, and flips to face me head on, while I take another sip from my wine bottle. After a moment of glaring, he continues crunching—a bit of orange-colored drool frothing on the sides of his lips. With brief hesitation, he drops his head again to pick up the piece of carrot.

“Good boy,” I murmur gently, which earns me another flick of his little elf ears.

I look up, taking in the white glow of the stars against the darkening sky. “DD, I don’t think I’m off to a very good start with the Boss Man.”

Big black doe eyes stare back at me with the strands of his thick forelock falling around them. “You kind of remind me of him. You both have nice hair.”

More staring and crunching.

“You know,” I sit up straight like we’re in the middle of an engaging conversation, “I raged all the way down here about what a prick he is. But with some food and wine in me, I feel like I’m ready to admit to you I haven’t exactly been on my best behavior either. It’s possible that I provoked him a little.”

DD appears to have finished chewing, so I toss him another carrot, closer to the fence this time.

“Smart boy. Admit nothing. You’ll only piss the girls off that way.”

I watch his nose wiggle as he shifts his eyes back and forth between me and the carrot a couple feet ahead of him. One step. Two steps. And then he cautiously lowers his neck and stretches out the very tip of his top lip to pull the carrot towards himself.

“Good boy, DD,” I tell him softly before continuing. “So, you know, the polite part of me thinks I should apologize for prodding at him so much. I know it wasn’t very professional of me. And it’s definitely not the ideal start to a new working relationship.”

A slow blink. More contented chewing.

“He just ticks me off, you know? I’m painfully familiar with his type. All the same.”

I marvel at what good listeners horses are. I can lay it all out, my deepest darkest secrets, and they never judge me or think less of me. In fact, the more I talk to DD, and feed—ahem, bribe—him, the more he likes me. His eyes soften and the muscles along the top of his back relax.

“But then there’s the childish part of me,” I toss a piece of carrot closer again, “that feels like he should apologize first. I mean, he’s the one that flew out of there first thing accusing me of being some sort of paid date or something.”

I watch the silhouette of the dark horse move ahead, with less apprehension this time, to claim his treat.

“You guys really are like the same person, DD. You can’t continue to greet people that way either. It’s unbecoming, you know? People will mistake you for being a mean boy rather than just a sensitive one.”

We sit there staring at each other, no longer needing to avoid eye contact. I roll him another piece of carrot, which brings him right up to the fence line.

I smile and sigh with satisfaction.

“Guess I just answered my question, didn’t I, big guy?”

The sound of footsteps on pavement has me shooting up and whirling around with speed that does not match my current level of sobriety. Looking up the slope of the hill, I see Vaughn standing beside his expensive black car. It’s too dark for me to tell if he’s looking at me or just pausing to admire the view.

My confusion clears quickly when he reaches one hand up to wave, his keys jangling in the quiet as he calls out to me, “Goodnight, Billie!”

I freeze and feel a flush creep up my neck and across my cheeks. Fuck my life. Had he just heard me talking about him? To a horse?

The parking lot is probably too far away for him to have heard me, or at least that’s what I tell myself. Maybe he could have caught some general mumbling, but not actual words. Hopefully.

Worst-case scenario, he’ll think I’m a little nuts, and I can live with that.

I raise a hand up in his direction with an awkward, “Night!” before bringing it down to scrub over my face when Vaughn drives away.

Facing DD’s pen, both hands now covering my face, I peek through my fingers at him. Much to my surprise, in the time that I’d been facing the other way, he moved closer, bringing his chest right up to the fence with his neck and head now hung over the barrier.

I hum happily at our progress in just one night, “Are you laughing at me, DD?”

Bending down, I retrieve a whole carrot from the bag, the longest one I can find. I hold the thick end in my hand, like a wand, and reach out slowly towards his face, holding the carrot towards his flared nostrils. I stand stock still and watch those big dark globes stare down his dishy forehead at the treat I’m offering him. It feels like minutes crawl by, even though it’s probably only mere seconds.

In trying to stand still, I realize just how inebriated I am. Whoops. But I am no quitter. I stick it out, and it pays off in spades.

I watch as the whiskers on his nose twitch, his lips wiggle and smack against each other as he reaches out towards the tip of the carrot, making a hollow little popping noise. I feel the heat and moisture of his exhale as he stretches his face towards my hand and gently grabs the carrot.

He pauses for a moment and then pins his ears while stepping away from me. A sure sign he is unimpressed with what I just talked him into doing.

Baby steps with this one. Just like Vaughn.

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