The hike has already drained me, and we haven’t even started work yet—whatever that may entail.
God, a waffle would be delicious.
In spite of the mud caking my boots and my aching muscles, I set my jaw and peer all the way up into his striking green eyes. “What do you think?”
A soft smile tugs at his lips, and his brows shoot up with what I know is the slightest hint of admiration. The knowledge makes me smile, proud of myself. Kellan’s still looking at me, and for a moment, he opens his mouth, as though to say something, but swiftly changes his mind.
“We’ll have to inspect the damage first,” he says casually, turning away from me. “Storms around here aren’t particularly kind.”
I nod, even though this is news to me.
He continues, “Do you really want to help?” I nod my head, and his gorgeous smile widens a little. “Okay. Then stay close to me and don’t do anything rash.”
I frown because I’ve no idea what the hell he’s talking about. What could I possibly do rashly?
But there’s no time for asking because Kellan takes off. I follow behind, watching him as he opens the main door to the barn, the muscles straining his shirt. The tendons in his forearms flex and stretch while a sexy groan swooshes past his lips.
At last, the door opens with a groan, and he motions me inside.
The interior is divided into huge stalls with top and bottom opening doors and halls to the left and right. To my left, there are cows. On the right, there are stalls with horses. At the far end, there’s the storage area where he keeps the feed and the hay. Dust is flying as we walk.
“The barn’s over one hundred years old,” Kellan says. “The land has belonged to my family for generations.”
“Wow,” I say, impressed, and peer up, spinning in a slow circle.
The morning light is spilling in through the high windows, and the pungent scent of hay, dust, and manure hits my nostrils. It doesn’t smell bad, just earthy—different from the city.
I keep close to him as he opens the stalls and inspects one horse after another, then guides them outside with a smack on their haunches.
I don’t know much about horses, but these ones are huge and well groomed. Even I can tell that Kellan takes great care of them.
“Are you afraid of them?” Kellan asks.
“What? No.”
It’s not the entire truth. I’m not afraid of horses, per se.
But these look like something out of a gladiator arena—the kind that could trample you to death.
“Good. Maybe I’ll teach you to ride them, if you’re up for it.”
“What makes you think I cannot ride?” I ask in a bold moment.
He cocks his head, his eyes running over my body. “I can tell.”
I don’t bother with a reply. There’s no point in telling him that he’s wrong because he isn’t.
But damn, coming out of his mouth, I never know whether to feel insulted or not.
For what feels like an eternity, he works in silence, swiftly moving from stall to stall, inspecting the wood panels and the large windows, opening more doors, refilling food. An hour later, he’s done, seemingly pleased, and we head back outside.
“This is it?” I ask. It wasn’t so bad.
“No, we still have to take a look at the bulls. Their barn’s about a mile away.”
A mile?
I’m not sure my legs can carry me that far, and yet I force a smile to my lips. “Sure.” I point at the barn. “Shouldn’t we do a bit of cleaning first?”
“I don’t usually have my guests cleaning out the stalls, unless they ask me to.” He winks, and my breath hitches in my throat.
In the sunlight he’s so gorgeous, it’s unreal. His green eyes seem to catch and reflect the golden light. The wind ruffles his hair, blowing a strand into his eyes. I want to brush it aside, but refrain from doing so.
He beats me to it anyway and rakes a hand through his hair, the motion slow and sexy. I look away and wrap my arms around my waist, not because I’m cold but because I need to put something between us, even if the wall is imaginary.
“Can I stroke the horses?” I ask. My glance travels to them. They’re feasting on the grass, their muscular bodies strong and majestic.
“No, but you can ride one, if you want,” Kellan says. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to them.”
Without waiting for my reply, he grabs my hands and guides me while telling me their names and recalling how he got each one of them.
I try to listen, but all I can think about is his fingers on my skin, the heat of his body, the strength emanating from him.
“This is Brenna,” Kellan says. “She’s the quietest, most patient quarter horse I’ve ever had.”