Jocelyn: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (Sewing in SoCal Book 2) Page 5

When I’d glanced back and seen the crazy city gal riding along with one less sense than God had given her, I’d told Nate to ride back and make sure she was okay. Except I’d forgotten that no one told Nate nothin’. He’d just grinned at me and pressed his heels more fully into Sunny’s flank, taking the lead.

  “Domino and I have an understanding, Mr. Thomas.” Miss Jocelyn didn’t so much as turn her head at the sound of my voice. “He’ll get me back to the ranch in one piece at the end of the day, and in return I’ll sneak him all the carrots and apples I can find in the kitchen.”

  Add another living creature at the Double B under her spell. “You can just call me Malachi, ma’am.”

  She peeked at me out of the corner of her eye. “And I’m Jocelyn. Not that I don’t find your manners charming, but tacking on the miss before my name or a ma’am after makes me feel old.”

  Since her eyes stayed closed, I took the opportunity to study her. Though her hands clutched the reins and saddle horn like a lifeline, she allowed her body to move lithely with Domino’s. Her hips engaged with each step the gelding took, and her long, lean legs remained steady at his side instead of rocking like out-of-control pendulums. She possessed the natural gracefulness of a horsewoman, even if her mounting ability and the fact her eyes remained shut suggested she’d never ridden before.

  “You really should open your eyes.”

  “Opening them means looking down, and the distance between me and the ground is something I don’t particularly want to be reminded of.”

  I ran my palm across the top of my thigh. “I promise you won’t fall.”

  Her chin tilted to the side. “That is a promise outside the realm of your control. Only Domino can make such a guarantee, and he’s yet to utter those words of comfort.”

  I added a hint of pressure against Lightning’s flank with my outside calf, sending him a side-step closer to Domino. My skin prickled as the distance that separated us closed, but I couldn’t let my shyness put her in danger. “Maybe he has and you weren’t listening.”

  Her plush lips bowed. “And you’re Dr. Doolittle I take it?”

  Better animals than people. “Everyone can be, to some extent, if they pay attention to body language.”

  A furrow appeared between her brows. “What is Domino’s body saying then? Translate for me.”

  Lightning responded to my subtle commands, pressing even closer to Domino. “That’s not how this works. You have to open your eyes to see for yourself.”

  Her hands readjusted on the saddle horn. “You’re going to make me come out and say it then, aren’t you? Fine. I’m too scared.”

  Despite the risk of startling Jocelyn, I nudged Lightning to close the small gap separating us. My knee pressed against Jocelyn’s as I reached out and covered her hand. “Like I said, I promise I won’t let you fall.”

  Her eyes sprang open. “What are you doing?”

  I firmed my grip in case her surprise caused her to lose her seat. I thought I’d been overcoming my own discomfort to offer reassurance, but the way her spine stiffened at my proximity made me second guess.

  “Is this safe? I thought horses liked distance between them. The girl in the video said to make sure you don’t let your horse stick its nose in the butt of the horse in front of you unless you want your horse to get kicked. Is that only front-to-back, and side-to-side is okay?” Her knuckles matched the whites of her eyes as she turned them toward me.

  “Breathe.” The command came out of me as if on a breeze. I gently pulled back on Domino’s reins while tucking my seat under me, halting both horses. I met Jocelyn’s fear-filled gaze, her nervousness stabilizing the quake in my own middle and quieting the noise in my skull. “I’m not going to let you get hurt.”

  Her honey eyes locked on mine, a silent battle taking place behind the amber flecks.

  “No one is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do while on my property, including horseback riding. If you want, we can walk the horses back now. We aren’t too far out yet.”

  She glanced back the way we’d come.

  “However, I think you should give me a chance. Er…to show you that riding horses isn’t something to be afraid of, I mean.” Uncomfortable heat ignited the tips of my ears. Too bad the sensation wasn’t from a habanero pepper instead of me stumbling over my words. Again.

  I studied Lightning, letting my confidence pool back around me. “There’s nothing quite like the view between a horse’s ears, I assure you, and the rhythm of Domino’s gait will soothe away any misgivings you might have. Being on top of a horse is like nothing else in this world.”

  She tilted her head, her riotous curls grazing her shoulder as she studied me. “That sounded a bit like cowboy poetry to me.”

  I gave Lightning’s shoulder a pat, ignoring the awkward feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  Leather creaked as Jocelyn shifted in the saddle. “All right, vaquero, open up this whole new world to me.”

  Those amber flecks sparked in her eyes, a little sass replacing her trepidation.

  I folded my fingers around her clenched fists then eased them open. “The first thing you need to do is relax. On any horse besides Domino, your tenseness would make your mount nervous.”

  She took a deep breath in, then her muscles relaxed under my palm as she exhaled slowly. “Good. Now, see how one of Domino’s ears is flicking back toward you and the other is forward? He’s relaxed and listening to you as his rider.”

  “Hey, Domino.” She reached out and ran a hand down his withers. “Sorry I’ve been such a scaredy cat.” The other ear flicked back toward her.

  “As long as his ears are relaxed, you know he’s happy.”

  “What happens if they get as stiff as I was before?”

  “Then he’s telling you something’s up. If they’re stiff and forward, then there could be danger ahead. If they’re stiff and pointed back, then he’s worried about something behind him and might kick out at it. If he pins his ears flat against his neck, then he’s really angry and ready to fight.”

  “All that just from his ears?”

  I released her hand. “Don’t have to be Dr. Doolittle to understand animals. Horses also communicate with their tails, their lips…any part of their bodies really. But you don’t need to know all that to enjoy today’s trail ride.” I clucked my tongue, setting both horses off at a walk.

  “What do I need to know then?” Her fingers remained relaxed over the reins, and she let herself glide with her mount’s gait.

  I smirked. “Nothing more than to keep your eyes wide open.” Lightning lengthened his stride. “Wouldn’t want you to miss something wonderful right in front of you just because you were too afraid to take a peek.”

  7

  Jocelyn

  My chest expanded as we topped the rise. The rolling ground cascaded around us in an endless landscaped masterpiece of greens and blues, the sky seeming to go on forever without end. Until now, wide open spaces had only been lyrics to a Dixie Chicks song—one I never thought I’d relate to. But as I sat atop Domino, watching a butterfly play tag with the wind, flitting back and forth on fragile wings, a stirring awakened in my breast as if the butterfly whispered for me to come and play. To spread my own wings and soar.

  Malachi had been right. Straddling a horse did unlock a whole new perspective, and Domino’s ears were a perfect frame through which to see the world. If I’d allowed fear to win, I would have missed out on the splendor around me.

  A cow mooed a few yards away—long and low at the beginning but rising in both pitch and volume. A blue tag hung from one of its large ears, which stood out on the side of its head like a satellite, but the short, knobby knees that bulged under a round belly didn’t appear strong enough to support all that weight. The cow looked at us like a grumpy old man, a long blade of grass sticking out of its mouth.

  The thing really shouldn’t be cute, with all its awkward attributes, but when I looked into its large, placid eyes, my heart m
elted like chocolate left in the car on a hot day.

  “How many head do you have on your spread?” Bill asked.

  Malachi tipped the brim of his hat up out of his eyes with a crooked finger. “’Bout a hundred. We’re a cow-calf operation with a good percentage of our heifers about to drop.”

  Drop? Like drop dead?

  I whipped my gaze back around to the vocal cow. A poster diagram from one of my favorite farm-to-table restaurants flashed in my mind. Now instead of a silky red coat marred by patches of dried mud and hovering flies, I saw dotted lines like my favorite dress patterns just waiting to be cut out. Chuck. Rib. Sirloin. Round.

  My stomach rolled. I’d never be able to eat beef again. For a moment, I envisioned myself the embodiment of Fern Arable, jumping in front of the bovine the way the little girl saved Wilber from her father’s ax.

  “Looks like one already did.” Henry pointed to a small calf standing half behind its mother’s legs.

  Oooh. That kind of drop.

  “Nate.” An unfamiliar bite vibrated in Malachi’s tone.

  Nate flinched. “Sorry. Must’ve missed one.”

  Malachi swung down from Lightning and rifled through his saddle bag. A long rope trailed from his hand as he made his way to the mother-offspring duo. Nate dismounted as well and followed. The Thomas brothers ran their hands over the mom and baby before looping the rope around the cow’s neck. Nate led the mama at a sedate pace, and the little calf tracked behind.

  I stood in the stirrups to watch them go, resettling in the saddle as Malachi led Nate’s horse to Lightning and secured the second horse’s reins to Lightning’s tack. “I take it home births with ‘home’ being the range are frowned upon in these parts?”

  My attempt at a joke smoothed out the worry lines creasing Malachi’s forehead, one corner of his mouth taking a short hike northward. “Only when the midwife isn’t called.”

  “Do you think we can take a break before heading back?” Henry asked as he absently rubbed the inside of his groin area.

  I dipped my chin into my shoulder, stifling a laugh. My inner thighs were screaming as well—they hadn’t stretched this much since ballet camp at the YMCA when I was six—but I’d already admitted to being scared today. My pride couldn’t take the hit of confessing my physical discomfort as well.

  Malachi nodded. “Stretch your legs and we’ll head back in ten.”

  Henry slid his feet out of the stirrups and slanted forward over his horse’s neck. I winced, imagining how the saddle horn must be giving him the Heimlich. He swung one of his feet back, kicking his horse in the rear.

  The horse’s ears flattened. I opened my mouth to call out a warning, but Henry managed to get his leg over with his second attempt. His body draped over the saddle like a rag doll, gravity lazily pulling him toward the ground millimeters at a time.

  I really hoped Mr. Whalen had added a bonus to whatever the Double B was charging for us to be here. We were the horse-riding equivalent of the Bad News Bears. A bunch of misfits better suited for a petting zoo than a real working ranch.

  Henry finally managed to slide down the side of his horse, a telling squelch making his contact with the ground a little less firm.

  “Tell me that wasn’t—”

  “Should’ve warned you about the mine field out here.” Malachi wiped a hand over the lower portion of his face, but crinkly lines around his eyes gave away his mirth. “Better watch your step.”

  “Mines?” Henry squeaked.

  Miriam rolled her eyes. “A little poop on your boots isn’t going to hurt you.”

  Donald’s nose wrinkled, but a second later he dismounted and walked over to Henry, nudging him so he had to take a sidestep to keep his balance.

  “What are you doing?”

  Donald grimaced as he planted his boot in the middle of the steaming brown pile. He lifted his head to stare at Tonya with a half triumphant, half challenging expression.

  An unladylike snort escaped from the back of my throat. “Men are idiots.”

  Malachi slanted a look over at me. “Don’t lump us all together like that. Some of us have the good sense to know that we’ll step in enough poo in a lifetime without going looking for it.”

  If Mr. Whalen was hoping this trip would make us grow, then Donald had enough fertilizer under him to sprout like a blooming daisy. And if teamwork had been his motivation, then the daggers Tonya and Donald were shooting at each other would puncture that aspiration in a heartbeat.

  Bad, bad, Bad News Bears. I shook my head and turned Domino around. I only had five more days to soak up the breadth of this place and let it seep into my marrow. My coworkers’ grievances would be waiting back inside the four walls of the office.

  A few minutes later, Malachi gave the word to head back, and those who’d taken the opportunity to stretch their legs remounted. By the muffled laughter, I assumed the spectacle was campfire-retelling worthy, but I kept my gaze toward the horizon, tracing the rise and fall of the foothill’s lines.

  Too soon the silhouettes of outbuildings cropped up on the open land. Malachi led us toward the corral and ended our first trail ride on his property. According to the schedule, our real work would begin in the morning.

  Groans drifted over the backs of the horses as boots hit dirt.

  Were we really that pathetic?

  I sighed and kicked my feet out the stirrups, swinging my right leg over the cantle of the saddle before sliding to the ground. The soles of my boots hit the earth in a jarring thud, sending a painful vibration up my legs and spine. I bit back a moan. Jiminy Cricket that hurt.

  Domino arched his neck toward me, and I stroked the white diamond along his forehead. “Thanks for keeping up your end of the bargain, boy.” Gathering the reins, I took a step toward the stalls.

  My knees refused to straighten all the way, and the gap between my thighs would’ve made a super model jealous. I took another step forward and choked on a laugh/cry combination. The simple act of walking increased in difficulty when it felt like trying to maneuver with a maxi pad the size of a mattress stuffed between my legs.

  Finally, I made it to the barn. Malachi emerged from one of the stalls, stopping Miriam with a hand to her arm. “Can you take care of our guests and the horses by yourself? I’m going to check on that new calf.”

  My legs and backside screamed for me to find somewhere to sit. Preferably a cloud-like pillow that would cradle me in a feathery embrace, but really, any cushion would do. My mouth, however, had a different idea. “Can I come?”

  Malachi stalled, caught between what I assumed to be duty and good manners.

  Something more than the cuteness of the baby calf made me press. “I promise you won’t even know I’m there.”

  He looked away and pulled at his ear, mumbling a “not possible.” Taking a deep breath, he met my eyes and nodded. “Let’s go.”

  8

  Malachi

  Whatever the opposite of making a sow’s ear into a silk purse was, well, the description would fit Jocelyn Dormus like a pair of tailor-made gloves.

  The willowy woman tramped along beside me, an air of elegance and sophistication to her that trail dust-covered jeans and a tied-off plaid shirt couldn’t hide. I could easily picture her rubbing elbows with wealthy influencers of society, eating over-priced but under-portioned appetizers in a glitzy restaurant while engaged in conversation with a gentleman in an expensive designer tuxedo.

  Not a ranch owner who only wore Wranglers and Carhartts…even to church.

  I glanced over at her even as I told myself to stay distant.

  There was something about her. Something I couldn’t put my finger on. No, she didn’t quite fit in here—no matter how hard she’d tried. Didn’t fit into the clothes that, while looking good on her, didn’t seem to be who she was. But she didn’t not fit either. Only someone with a heart attuned to the country could look out over the openness of the range like she had. As if a part of her had recognized the land and could
feel the pulse of it.

  Jocelyn’s chin tilted toward me, sending my gaze scampering like a kid who’d heard his mama’s footsteps on the stairs and was afraid to be caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or staring, as my case may be.

  “Was the calf all right? When you checked him over earlier, I mean?”

  I grunted a response. If I opened my mouth, I’d more than likely utter something embarrassing. Like how fine I thought her. Or how proud I was that she’d not allowed fear to hold her back. Or how regal she’d looked astride Domino.

  My thumbnail sliced across the pad of my index finger, a nervous tick I thought I’d conquered. When the family had agreed to open the ranch to guests, the possibility of an influx of money had cushioned the inevitability that I would be spending more time with people—women, specifically—than I had in the past. I’d thought that would be okay. That I’d be answering questions or explaining ranch life and that I’d never find myself tongue-tied, alone with a pretty lady.

  Nate should be the one tracking a path to the cattle yard with Jocelyn close enough he could feel the warmth of her body beside his. Nate didn’t have any problems talking to women. He was all carefree charm and personality. Instead of grunting at Jocelyn, he’d no doubt make her laugh and feel at ease.

  And it wasn’t as if other aspects of the ranch didn’t need my attention. With the calves soon to drop, I needed to check on the heifers at least twice a day. All the birthing instruments needed to be ready at a moment’s notice, not to mention the deworming of the replacement heifers coming in the next day.

  Not sure why I hadn’t thought of it before. Instead of splitting the ranch and guest supervision duties, I could put Nate and Miriam in charge of the Whalen group and make sure no problems arose with the herd. Cows didn’t care if I came up with the right words…or any words at all, for that matter, and I wouldn’t be made to feel like a weak-kneed, wet behind the ears cowpuncher.

  We stopped at the paddock, and Jocelyn placed her foot on the bottom board, leaning her folded arms across the top. The calf and mama stood a few feet away, the young’un close to his mother’s side.