“I would never laugh at you.” He laughs even harder.
With my jaw agape, I playfully slap him on the arm. “Yes, you are.” I know a blush has just taken over my entire face from being caught staring at him. Willing it away, I say, “Just get in there so we can get to work on these horses.”
“Yes ma’am,” he says, throwing his head back in laughter.
I shake my head at him and can’t help but laugh, too.
“And there it is.” He stares back at me, his laughter subsiding.
No longer laughing, my eyebrows dip down. “Huh?”
“Your laugh.” Is all he says, as if it’s obvious.
“What about my laugh?”
“I like it.”
Well, hell, I’ve never had anyone say that to me before, not even Jarred, and we dated for a year and a half. There’s a weird feeling in my stomach that I can’t name, but I think I could get used to it. Deciding to leave his comment up in the air, I walk over to the side of the stall and grab a brush off the wall. “Why don’t you take Jane, and I’ll take Lucy?”
Without waiting for him to reply, I slowly approach Lucy, gauging her reaction to me. When I realize she’s not going to startle, I reach out to rub her forehead again. Cautiously, I lift the brush and softly begin to stroke downwards on her dark brown mane. “Now, that’s not so bad, is it?” I ask softly, mesmerized by how well Lucy is taking to me.
I don’t know how long I spend brushing Lucy, but when I look up, I see Wes’ eyes on me. I don’t know why he keeps looking at me, but I kind of like it. With a need to break the silence, I ask, “What time is the bonfire tonight?”
“We’ll probably head over there around nine. That’s around the time it usually gets dark.” He’s still looking at me, but I continue to brush along Lucy’s hindquarters.
“Do you know everyone who’s gonna be there?” I don’t look up at him because I’m afraid I’ll get sucked into his gaze. Instead, I concentrate on taking off Lucy’s bridle.
“Mostly, yeah. It’s gonna be a lot of people I went to high school with.”
“That’ll be nice for you to see everyone,” I reply, looking over at him with a faint smile.
“Yeah, it’ll be good. I haven’t seen anyone in a while.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but what do you do that has you living in Dallas?”
“I’m a professional bull rider. I can pretty much live anywhere, but I like Dallas,” he answers with a shrug.
“Do you miss living here?”
“Yes and no. I miss being close to my family, but I don’t miss the small town life. What about you? Do you miss home?”
I don’t know how to answer him. I don’t talk about my parents or that fateful night often. I remember them, and what they were like, but even seven years later, it’s still hard to talk about them. “Sometimes.”
“Do you see your family often? I mean, I know it’s gotta be hard with you in San Antonio for school.”
“I go home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, so it’s not too bad.”
“And you come and spend the summers here.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. It’s as if he knows that I’d rather be here than at home partying with my friends.
“I like it out here. It’s nice, peaceful, and quiet. I love it when the kids come, even if it is only for three weeks. Plus, you have really awesome parents.”
“Yeah, they are pretty cool. And I can tell that they really like you. I’ve never known them to let a volunteer stay in the house.”
I don’t know what to say, so I just continue unstrapping Lucy’s bridle. I have no clue why they let me stay in the house this summer either, but I won’t complain. Last summer, I shared a room with Jackie. She’s not bad or anything; she’s actually really nice, but that girl can talk. When I asked her why she was here, she said she has a little brother with muscular dystrophy, and that their mom got him involved with horse therapy and it helped raise his spirits. Being an only child, I wouldn’t know how it would feel to watch a sibling suffer.
Changing the subject, I say, “Do you know Jackie? She’s coming in next week.” By his wide set eyes, and suddenly pale expression, I can tell he knows whom I’m talking about. “Oh, so you do know Jackie, huh?” I can’t help, but laugh.
“Keep that girl away from me.” His stern expression only causes me to laugh harder.
“She’s not that bad. Yes, she talks a lot, but she really is a nice person.” I puff out my cheeks a couple of times to ease the ache, as I attempt to calm down from my outburst of laughter.