I might just keep the dumb, sarcastic statements coming if I could listen to that laugh all day.
He rests an elbow on Stern’s back and looks at me over the stall walls. “Are these two for sale? Is that why you’re asking what kind of furry crap-machines I’m so eager to buy?”
My smile fades. I hold in a sigh.
“These two aren’t worth much, I’m afraid. They can’t do heavy labor like horses in their prime.”
“So they’re priceless, you mean. Gotcha.”
I frown, unsure I follow him.
He rakes a vivid blue side-eye over me and shrugs. “You can’t put a dollar sign on pets or family, and I’d say these two are both. They’re in good shape for their age. Shows they’ve been well taken care of, and they like plenty of attention.”
I nod. “That’s true, they’re basically pets now. It wasn’t like that when we first got them. They came with the farm my father bought outside of Milwaukee. They’d been neglected by the previous owner. They were both so thin you could see their ribs.”
“Fuck.” Ridge bites back a hot, angry look. “I hate that shit. People who don’t look after their animals properly ought to get the same treatment. Call me old fashioned.”
My heart skips a beat. Ridiculous or not, there’s something extra sexy about the way he tenses up and scowls when he goes all Captain America.
It’s one of the mysteries of the universe.
Why do some guys look so hot when they’re pissed?
“Exactly. Rosie came around rather quickly, but Stern, well...besides being brushed, he doesn’t like tons of attention. He just—”
A noise like a bellowing trumpet makes me jump out of my skin.
“Told ya,” Ridge says. “Set of lungs on that boy could wake the damn dead.”
Shaking off the adrenaline rush, I laugh as I look up. Cornelius flaps his wings overhead, perched on an open crossbeam, looking down at us with his beady black eyes.
“He doesn’t have an internal clock. He just belts out a wake-up call whether it’s eight a.m. or noon or two in the morning.” Ridge gazes up at Cornelius with an icy scowl as the rooster struts along the beam. “He doesn’t much care where he shits, either. So watch out.”
“Oh? So you’ve taken a direct hit?” I lift a hand, trying to push the giggle back into my mouth.
“A few too many,” Ridge grunts. “I swear he just does it for amusement, too, the cheeky bastard. That’s the worst part. Just my luck that I wound up with one disturbed, nasty-ass bird.”
“How’d he even get up there? Seems awfully high.” I glance around the barn and don’t see a direct route the rooster might’ve taken to get on the beam. I know they can’t just get that high straight off the ground.
“Who knows,” Ridge says, stepping gracefully out of Cornelius’ range. “He’s had the run of the barn for months now, and he’s been in every nook and cranny. He’s probably got a secret passage or something.”
My curiosity keeps growing by the minute.
“So, you retired and wanted a little peace and quiet,” I wave the brush. “Why North Dakota?”
He pats Stern on the rump one more time before stepping out of the stall, dusting himself off.
“Got a good deal on the land. With the kind of agents who deal in high-end real estate back in L.A., it’s not a question of if you’ll land what you want, but when.” He pauses to set the brush he’d used back on the shelf. “Dallas is a nice little town. It already had its fair share of drama over the local oil company and the chick who inherited it a couple years back, so I knew moving here wouldn’t raise many eyebrows.”
I put away the brush I’d used on Rosie. “Raise eyebrows?”
“Being famous will do that. People will mob you for selfies or go through a gauntlet just for a handshake and a smile,” he tells me. “Mom raised me to appreciate the fans, and I do, but I’m no saint. It gets old real fast having to chart out your whole day’s routine just to make sure you’re not drowning in legions of screaming people or assholes with their cameras when all you want is a beer and a burger.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry, dumb question.”
Again, I’d forgotten just how famous he is.
“No need to apologize.” He shrugs and steps away, heading for a large stack of hay bales