He studies me for a second, and I’ve just convinced myself that he’s going to politely ask me to leave, when he says, “You shouldn’t


    shortchange yourself like that. You want a job?” I shake my head yes.


    “Okay, then, I’ll hire you, but tell me a wage, don’t just say you’re willin’ to work for basically nothin’. That’s a good way to get taken advantage of, E.”


    I’m too busy thinking about how great it would be to be taken advantage of by him, and I have to rack my brain toe up with something.


    “Well, $7. 25 an hour is the minimum wage here, so I guess that,” I finally say.


    He raises a dark eyebrow at me. “Excuse mynguage, but $7. 25 an hour is a fuckin’ joke. No one can live off that. I’ll pay you ten an hour to start.”


    Eyeing me up and down, he asks, “Are you sure you can handle this kind of work? I mean, it’s going to be pretty dirty at times. You’re going to have to do things like muck out stalls, wash the horses, feed them. It’s hard work.”


    I straighten my spine, trying to appear taller than my 5’2″ stature and tilt my chin up at him. “I can do it,” I say without flinching.


    He gives me an approving nod, but then says, “Okay, but are you sure you want to do it in that.” He moves a long finger up and down, indicating my red sundress and sandals.


    “Oh.” I look down at what I’m wearing. “I guess I didn’t think this part through. I don’t have any boots to wear, and I think if I put on a pair of jeans I’ll die from a heatstroke.”


    Heughs. “Better get used to the heat. It’s not goin’ anywhere anytime soon.” Walking away, he waves for me to follow and leads me to the tack room at the front of the barn.


    I close my eyes and breathe the smell of horse and leather in deeply, and when I open them, Beau is staring right at me, a soft smile ying across his lips. He doesn’t say anything, just turns around and rummages around on a shelf, pulling out a pair of cowboy boots. Holding them upside down, he knocks the heels together a few times, giving them a good shake.


    “Always check for spiders,” he says giving them another hard knock.


    I hope he’s joking, but I don’t think he is.


    “Here,” he says, handing them to me. “These should fit you. They’re my nephew’s, but he outgrew them a few years ago.”


    I run my hands over the worn leather and watch as he goes over to a cab and digs around for a second, emerging with a rolled-up ball of socks.


    Handing them over, he says, “Don’t worry, they’re clean. My nephew used toe over here all the time. Those were his, too. They should fit you well enough.”


    “Where is he now?” I ask.


    “Studying at LSU to be a vet.”


    I can hear the pride in his voice when he says it. I slip a sock on slide my foot into the boot and look up at him with a smile on my face. “They fit!”Ccontent ? exclusive by N?/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    He returns my smile and watches as I slip the other one on. Looking down at my cowboy boots and sundress, Iugh and say, “I guess I’m a real Louisianan now.”


    Hisugh is deep and infectious, lighting up his eyes, and revealing the small lines around his face from years ofughing and being in the sun.


    “With that Yankee ent? I don’t think so.”


    I bring my hands to my hips. “What’s wrong with my ent?”


    “Nothin’,” he says with a grin. “It’s very precise.”


    “Well, sorry,” I say drawing out my vowels. I fan myself dramatically. “It’s hot as tarnation out here. Ain’t ya got a window open?”


    He rolls his eyes at me, but I see the corner of his mouth twitch and know he wants tough.


    “Now you’re just bein’ an ass. Just for that, I think your first chore will be horse shit.” He walks past me to grab a shovel and calls over his shoulder, “And for the record, ain’t is a perfectly eptable word. If Lord Byron could use it, then so can I.”


    I watch as he walks away, taking in the sight of hisnguid, unhurried movements, the way his back muscles move with every step and swing of his arms, and the way his jeans entuate the perfection of his ass.


    Damn, I’ve got it bad.


    With a small groan, I follow him out and spend the rest of the afternoon mucking out the horse stalls. To my surprise, I enjoy it. I like taking care of the horses. Yeah, it’s unbearably hot, and I’m sweating my ass off by the time I’m done, but it’s also nice. The horses are all so sweet, and their soft neighs and the gentle stomping of their feet as they move around are oddlyforting.


    When Beaues back into the barn, he finds me petting Pierre with all the stalls clean and ready to go. He gives the barn an appraising look, and then shoots me a grin.


    “Not bad,” he says, making me feel ridiculously proud.


    He stands next to me, reaching a hand out to rub Pierre’s muzzle. He has such a way with the horses. They all love and trust him, and it’s easy to see he takes excellent care of them. Pierre immediately raises his head to Beau, leaning closer to him as if nuzzling him. It makes Beauugh, and he gives the horse a few pats on the neck.


    “Would you like to learn how to brush him?” he asks me.


    “Yes,” I breathe out excitedly.


    He smiles at my enthusiasm and grabs a brush from a small caddy sitting off to the side.


    “We’ll just need a regr body brush since he’s already pretty clean. Here. Slide this on.”