Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I put a hand up to stop her, already knowing where the story was headed.
“Got it. I heard it all first-hand last night.”
“So then you know.”
“No more truth serum. You could be liable and I don’t want to find out by how much. Can we please stick to the rules?”
“Oh, foo-wee with the rules.”
“Mona…”
“Fine.”
I get up to head to the barn when Mona pats my hand. “Remember when we discussed getting someone else to work the rescue part-time and we said we’d have to find the perfect person who we could trust and who we could also afford?”
“Umm… yeah,” I say, a little worried about where she’s going with this.
I know for a fact we can’t afford to pay very much. So even though it would take a lot of the burden off of me, it would also make me worry whether I could trust such a paragon of virtue to take care of the animals on the days I have off.
“I think I found the perfect person.”
“Who?” I say with major skepticism.
“Darby.”
“Darby?” I say as gently as possible. Yes, she’s my friend, but she’s also my boss, and this is her new boyfriend.
She nods, the excitement all over her face.
I start with the most obvious question. “What does Darby know about caring for animals?”
“I trained cutting horses most of my life,” Darby answers. Taking off his reading glasses, he places them on the table. “Trained four Open Futurity Champions and three Open Derby Champions. My ex-wife got the property in the divorce, but I still give a clinic or two a year.”
I do a piss-poor job of keeping the shock off my face. “Wow. So… why would you want to work here?”
He glances at Mona, a soft smile lifting his silver mustache. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Oh,” is the best I can do. I suddenly feel like I’m intruding in a private moment. “Okay… maybe we can talk about it some more later.”
Mona nods. “We’ll see you at lunch.”
Chapter 9
“I’m all yours. Where do you want me?” Aidan asks, his voice filtering into the barn.
Man, those are some loaded words. I glance over the top of the stall I’m cleaning and find him standing in the center aisle dressed in board shorts and flip flops. No shirt again. He smiles. Although it’s half-hearted and doesn’t reach his eyes.
Hallelujah. A breakthrough. I’m just happy he’s here. It’s almost sick the satisfaction I get from seeing him. Progress is a big thing with me. It’s a part of the rescue process I love most; seeing the animals get better. Hopefully we’ve turned a corner and can continue for the next month as friendly acquaintances with a common goal.
“The stalls get stripped today,” I inform him, “grab a pitchfork and a wheelbarrow.” I eyeball his outfit, my expression clearly indicating that his attire is inappropriate for the job at hand. “You should probably change out of those flip flops unless you want to get crap between your pedicured toes.”
He wiggles them and deadpans, “I’m glad you noticed. Never trust a man who doesn’t believe in pedicures.”
I make no attempt hide the eye roll. “Thanks for the life hack.”
He shrugs. “Happy to help.”
Taking my suggestion for a change, he leaves and returns a few minutes later wearing his work boots and pushing the wheelbarrow I left outside the barn. Still no shirt, though. I will give him props for not needing to be led by the hand to the wheelbarrow. This is how low my standards are for him.
“We pick the poop and wet shaving out of the stall and place it in the wheelbarrow for disposal. Try to scoop as little of the clean shaving as you can,” I demonstrate as I explain. “Bedding is expensive. The wheelbarrow gets dumped in the big containers out back. We compost it and use it as fertilizer over the fields later.”
“I got this, Tweetie. I did a western a few years ago and the director made the cast live on a working ranch for a month. This ain’t my first stall cleaning job.”
Oh, right. It’s gotten to the point that I’ve forgotten he’s a world class actor and a movie star. To me, he’s Aidan, the nuisance who lives on the property. Then it dawns on me…
“Tweetie?”
“Blue bird. Twitter. Tweetie.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. This I will not abide.
“Try and stop me.” His lips curve up into a textbook movie villain smile.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Laughter wins.
Together, we make quick work of the stalls. It cuts my time by two-thirds. Amazing what a little help can do. Maybe having Darby give me a hand a few days a week wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
Aidan has an almost bottomless abundance of energy when he focuses. I now understand why he’s so successful and why he’s been working consistently for the past decade. With his help, I finish feeding the animals their grain for lunch, throw hay to the ones living in the large pasture, and still have time to repair a few loose boards in the fence.