Grumpy Cowboy (Single Dad Collection)

Jumping jacks, sprints, lunges, squats—you name it, and she’s out there doing it to an audience of about ten confused-as-fuck horses.

If Jane Fonda would’a made a career out of teaching livestock aerobics, I have a feeling this is pretty close to what it’d look like.

“Let’s go, you guys! You can do it!” she shouts and starts running from one side of the pasture to the other.

Tiny’s eyes go wide, and he turns to lock his gaze with mine. “You didn’t tell her that all she had to do was open the fuckin’ gates and let ’em roam?”

I shrug. “She didn’t give me a chance.”

“Sure, she didn’t.” He rolls his eyes and chuckles. “You’re a real evil bastard, ya know that?”

“What?” I retort. “She doesn’t want my advice, and it sure as shit ain’t my business to force it on her. I reckon she’s just one of those people who have to learn the hard way.”

“So, just like you, then, huh? What’a they call ’em? Kin fed spirits or somethin’?”

I roll my eyes, and Tiny laughs. He’s been around since I was a kid. He knows me just about as well as anyone. Sure, he may talk slow or get the wrong word occasionally, but he’s a keen observer and then some. If he weren’t, my dad never would have kept him on our staff this long.

“And how long has she been out there like this?”

“I don’t know. Twenty, thirty minutes, tops.”

“Rhett,” Tiny says, and I groan.

“I know. Two more minutes and I’ll put an end to the charade, I swear.” I shrug and take a swig from my water bottle, shifting the melted ice pack on my knee and smiling. “Come on. Tell me you’re not enjoyin’ this just a little.”

Tiny looks from me out to the pasture where Leah is crow-hopping from one foot to the other, stretching her arms over her head with each jump. The horses are largely ignoring her, though one filly named Jasmine is completely enraptured. Ears perked and eyes wide, she can’t look away from the crazy lady with the sudden movements.

“I’m not enjoyin’ this. Though, if I were, I’d probably be smart enough not to say so, just as a matter of respect for the good doc and all.”

I snort. He’s loving this.

Discarding the ice pack, I re-tighten my brace and press my weight into my hands to shove up to standing. Leah leans down with her hands on her knees and heaves a few deep breaths of exhaustion. A fine sheen of sweat makes her dark hair stick to her face, and I have to fight to keep my mouth from curving up into a smirk.

“All right. It’s time to be movin’ on to the next task anyway.”

“Which is what, exactly?” Tiny asks. “And also, why? We’ve got plenty of ranch hands ’round here to do all this work while you heal that damn leg, yet you just ain’t lettin’ them do it.”

“There’s always somethin’ that needs done around here, Tiny, and you know my job is to oversee the action. Today’s action just so happens to be in Barn Six, over with the longhorns.”

He shakes his head. “You must be one sick, sadistic son of a bitch.”

I laugh. “Why?”

“’Cause you know damn well how that doc’s gonna react to collection, and still, you’re gonna put yourself through the mayhem anyway.”

“Hey, she’s the one who wanted to follow me around so she could see to my leg. It’s not my fault that the longhorns are part of today’s agenda.”

“Yeah, right,” he retorts. “The longhorns don’t need’ta be on your damn agenda, and you fuckin’ know it.”

“Actually, Ronald has somewhere to be,” I retort. “And if the good doctor doesn’t want to chase my leg around, she’s more than welcome to see herself out of today and go into town and shop or do some spa shit or whatever it is she likes to fucking do.”

“So what, she’s tryin’ to make your leg better. What’s the big deal about that?”

“It’s not about the leg,” I contest. “It’s about control for Tex, and you damn well know it. I’m on my ass puttin’ ice on my leg all day, and he makes sure everything gets done the way he likes it.”

Tiny shrugs. “I don’t know. Looks to me like you’re standin’ a whole lot easier on that thing. Not wincin’ in pain or anything. It’s been so long since I’ve seen your forehead without all them fuckin’ wrinkles, I was startin’ to think you were older than me.”

Tiny’s in his late fifties and looks it. He’s a good worker and in decent physical shape because of it, but with the hard life he’s lived, he’s not likely to win any beauty contests anytime soon.

Maybe that’s why his words have more impact than I’m expecting them to.