Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(22)
“I got a bunch of googly eyes from my mom,” Blair said through her laughter.
“We thought it would be funny.” I bit my bottom lip to stop from laughing. It wasn’t only the prank that was funny—it was my dad’s scowl as he presented a head of lettuce with lopsided eyes stuck to it, and maybe even more, it was the gasping bursts of laughter coming from behind Blair’s hand.
“What’s not funny is the way I almost crapped my pants when I opened the fridge.”
Another muffled laugh from Blair.
“We’ll take the eyes off the stuff in the fridge.” She pulled herself together enough to smile sweetly at him.
His dark eyes flitted between us before he gave a single nod. Grabbing his can of Pepsi from the counter, Dad brushed past us and out the back door.
“You like how I specified the fridge?” she whispered. “We better peel those off and get out of here before he sees what I did in the bathroom.”
* * *
—
Since school let out for summer vacation the week prior, Blair had been running barrels for hours every morning. She caught a ride to the ranch with one of our day workers, which meant arriving at five o’clock in the morning. And she practiced from daybreak until the mid-morning sun was too hot.
Rays beat down on the open arena, and I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead as I watched her. On the back of her chestnut gelding—a gift from my parents at the end of the previous year’s rodeo season—Blair held tight around the last barrel, hair whipping out from under her cowboy hat as she gave a kick. Her own sounds of encouragement for her horse were drowned out by my mom clapping and shouting, “Bring him on home, girl!”
Mom treated every practice like it was the finals at the Calgary Stampede, hollering and clapping her hands together, screaming as if Blair was running for fifty grand. She didn’t even bother timing most runs because she insisted the time didn’t matter as much as the ride itself. I leaned against the fence next to her, jokingly using my hands as earmuffs, and watched Blair storm toward us with a Cheshire cat grin.
Slowing the horse, Blair yelled, “That run felt really good!”
“Damn, that was about as close to a perfect ride as you can get.” Mom beamed. “Let’s quit while we’re ahead for today. You run like that on Saturday and you’ll blow all those other girls out of the water. Incredible, kiddo.”
“Holy, wish I got half as much praise when I have a good ride.” I shook my head, eyes flitting between the girls. “How does it feel to be the favorite child?”
“Oh, shush.” Mom slung an arm around my neck, pulling me into a tight hug. She planted a kiss on my head, and I replied with a hearty, embarrassed groan, doing my best to slip out of her grasp. But her fingers only dug deeper into my shoulder with a bruising grip. “You know I don’t pick favorites, my sweet baby boy.”
“Okay, okay, okay. Forget I said anything.” I laughed, managing to pry her hands off me.
Blair sat on her horse a few feet away, watching the interaction with a raised eyebrow and a smile that I knew meant she’d be giving me hell for this later. Mom reached for me again, and I playfully shooed her hand away.
“Enough embarrassment out of you today, thanks, Mom.”
“Okay, kids. I’m gonna head inside and make some lunch. Love you.”
“Love you,” I replied before turning to Blair. “Wanna go down to the river?”
She hopped from the saddle and took her hat off, shaking out her hair. Her fingers combed through the dark brown locks and she nodded eagerly. “Yes, please. I’m sweating. It’s so hot out here. I need to go for a swim.”
Grabbing her horse’s reins, I turned toward the barn. “I bet Chief’s sweating hard, too. You wanna turn on the spigot, and I’ll untack him so we can hose him down?”
“My hero,” she said with a melodious voice, hands clasped against her chest. “I’m too hot and tired to lug that saddle anywhere.”
Rounding the corner of the barn, I said, “You’re a weirdo. Go get the hose.”
She stuck her tongue out at me before dramatically dragging her feet across the dusty earth toward the water spigot. I watched her, tongue in cheek, while slowly removing the bridle. Such a weirdo.
A few minutes later, I walked back out of the tack room into the blazing heat and found Blair spraying cold water over Chief’s shoulder. My T-shirt clung to the sweat on my back, and I plucked the hat from my head to fan myself.
“Hit me with that, would ya?” I gestured toward the hose in her hand.
Without a second thought, Blair lifted the nozzle above Chief’s withers, shooting me directly in the face with a jet stream of cold water. A chill ran through my veins as I instinctively turned away, feeling the spray move from between my eyes to the nape of my neck. Water cascaded down my back, rinsing away the sweat and soaking my jeans.
“Ayyyy, okay, okay, okay. That’s enough.”
I held a hand up for protection and turned to look at Blair. A mischievous, crooked grin swept across her face, and I narrowed my eyes. Then I launched toward her, ducking under Chief’s neck and frantically grabbing for the hose. Blair bolted, shooting water in my general direction as she ran down the length of the barn.
“You’re dead, Hart,” I shouted.