Herd That (The Valentine Boys 1)

And for the last four weeks, I absolutely had to.

I loved horses. Had adored them since I got my first one at the age of three, but I didn’t like cleaning up after them.

I liked riding them and feeding them treats.

Poop wasn’t really my thing.

Growling under my breath, I picked up my pace, trying my best to ignore the water that was saturating my chambray shirt that had the cutest little rhinestones as buttons.

By the time I made it to the front door, though, I was soaked to the bone.

It didn’t help matters that the weather was exceptionally cold, either.

“Can I help you?” I heard asked the moment my feet stepped inside the door.

I looked up to find a man wearing a cowboy hat standing in front of me.

Not that that made him very special.

Every man in the joint had on a cowboy hat.

“Hi,” I chirped. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Who might that be?” the older cowboy asked, bringing his spit cup to his lips and letting loose right there in front of me.

I tried not to grimace at the disgusting use of the nasty product and instead focused on the area around me.

The building looked old.

Really old.

The paneling on the walls was faux wood and had worn down with time.

The floors were an off-white linoleum that looked like it’d seen way better days.

It was almost as if the entire place was stuck back in the seventies.

“Mr. Valentine,” I replied, finally turning back to the man, grateful to see that he’d dropped his dip cup to his leg.

I kept my eyes firmly above his waist as I waited for him to reply.

“What you want with him?” the man asked.

“He’s supposed to be helping me get some cows unloaded for my granddad,” I explained patiently.

The man smiled. “He’s at the last shoot looking at the newest bull for sale.”

He pointed toward a rickety brown door, and I smiled gratefully at him.

“Thank you,” I acknowledged appreciatively to him as I walked toward the door.

“Watch your step,” he called from behind me.

I waved my hand at him and opened the door, stopping when I realized that there were stairs on the other side of the door, with absolutely zero landing for you to walk out on to introduce you to the stairs.

Steep ones that looked to be about three times the size of a normal stair.

I looked down at my boots—ones that were brand new and had absolutely no traction to them like tennis shoes—and growled in frustration.

Taking one last glance back and not finding the cowboy in sight, I climbed up the first step and closed the door behind me.

The first four steps were the worst, and they evened up the closer to the top I got. It was worse and better, of course. Better because the smaller steps meant I didn’t have to worry about my shoes losing traction. Worse because now that I was so high up in the air, I could see the entire sale barn.

It was about a football field in length, and about a football field wide.

There were pens on either side of the walkway that was suspended high above the area down below it, giving each and every person there a perfect view of the entire shebang.

“’Scuse me,” I muttered to an older gentleman that could rival my grandpa in age.

He looked fit, though, compared to Granddad. Granddad, although in good shape body-wise, looked just worn out.

He looked like he’d led a hard life—which he had.

The older gentleman turned to me and immediately said, “Codie Spears!”

I blinked, surprised by the outburst.

“Hi,” I said. “How do I know you?”

He grinned. “You may not remember me, but you do know me. I’m your mother’s sister’s ex-husband.”

I blinked. “Aunt Peggy?”

He winced. “That’d be her.”

I laughed then.

“Poor guy,” I cooed. “I’m glad to see you’re still standing.”

He grinned and patted me on the back.

“Gotta agree with you there. Careful of that board, it’s loose,” he said as I stepped over the board in question.

“Thanks.” I patted his hand that was still on my arm. “I’ve got to find someone.”

“Who ya’ lookin’ for?” he asked.

“Ace Valentine.”

His smile fell and his eyes narrowed.

“Whatcha’ want with him?” he questioned, his entire demeanor changing.

I blinked in confusion at his abrupt change in attitude.

“He’s supposed to be helping me… ahh, I think I see him.” I hurried away before he could say anything else, my eyes on the brown hat I could see bobbing up and down at the end of the walkway.

Skirting one last person about ten feet before the man, I slowed.

My steps went quieter, and I studied the man’s back.

His backside.

If his face was anything like his butt, he’d be breathtaking.

I couldn’t begin to thank the Lord enough for the invention of Wrangler jeans.

There was no way that the guy was cute, though. Not with a body like that. Surely God wasn’t that generous.