All I See Is You

12. Fallin In Love

Chapter twelve

Fallin' In Love

Hux

I t was hot, humid days like this that made me think of packing my shit up, quitting, and moving my ass as far away from Texas as possible. Somewhere cold most of the year. Maybe find myself some ranch work up in Montana—Travis had family up there I could go visit. But honestly, even Montana seemed too warm right about now, but it sure as hell beat here.

Texas was my home though, for better or worse. I was born here, and I’d likely die here as well. I almost had once already.

“Ho,” I soothed as I sat deep in the saddle and drew Doc to a stop, letting out a sigh and wiping sweat from my brow.

I’d given up a lot of things since losing my vision, but I’d be damned if riding was one of them. It had taken a while to get used to, but growing up in the saddle definitely had its perks at the end of the day. In an arena or round pen it was easy enough to figure out the layout, and most halfway decent horses weren’t going to run themselves into the fence, so I could manage easily enough.

I liked riding. It was one of the few moments in my day where I didn’t feel like a hindrance, a burden, a waste of space. On horseback, I felt at peace.

“Hey, old man!” Travis’s familiar voice echoed across the round pen, coming from the left.

“The hell do you want?” I asked, adjusting the reins in my hand and spurring Doc gently with my left leg to turn back in the opposite direction, starting up our circular pattern once more at a walk. He’d worked enough for today and I was done with this heat. It was about damn time I cooled him off. And myself.

“Ain’t you supposed to be seein’ that girl soon?” Travis’ words came from my right, closest to the gate.

I thought of Quinn, a flicker of excitement sparking in my chest. She’d driven my thoughts all day long. Her voice, her scent, her touch. She was more intoxicating than any damn drug or drink.

“Yeah, what time is it?” I asked. I’d set an alarm on my phone to go off at 5 PM so I could clean up and get ready.

“It’s 5:25.”

“Fuck.” Doc tensed beneath me for a moment before continuing his path around the round pen. What the hell had happened? I fished out my phone from my back pocket and asked, “Siri, what time is my alarm set for?”

“Your alarm is set for 5 AM.”

“Fuck!” I growled out again, urging Doc toward the direction of the gate. I could have sworn I’d set the alarm for PM. But it didn’t matter now. Fuck, I still needed to untack him and wash him off. I drew him to a stop and hopped off, feeling my way along the pipe-stall.

“I was wonderin’ why you were still out here.” Travis was close enough I could feel the heat of him and smell his familiar scent. He had a strong musky cologne that I never had a problem picking out.

“Why the hell didn’t you say anythin’ sooner?” I grumbled, though I wasn’t mad at him, more so the whole situation.

“Oh, don’t be grumpy, old man. You’re lucky I noticed the time. I was just about to get ready as well.”

I huffed as I heard the creak of the gate opening and followed the sound. Travis’ work, no doubt. He settled at my side as I made my way toward the wash rack. Exactly six steps forward, and then fifty-seven paces directly to the right. The packed dirt gave way to concrete as I led Doc into the crossties and started untacking him.

“Well, thanks for sayin’ somethin’,” I said with a huff, working at the rear and front cinch.

“No worries, man. Here. I can help.” Travis’ scent grew stronger as he came closer.

As much as I hated relying on the help, it sure as fuck saved me on time, so I begrudgingly let it slide.

“So, you got a date with Quinn’s friend?” I asked, as I walked five paces straight back and reached for the hose. Thankfully, it was there. Some days—most days—the other hands left shit out of place, which royally fucked me. But at least something was going my way right now.

Travis’ voice sounded far away—he must be in the tack shed then—but it gained in volume, accompanied by the echo of his footfalls. “Yeah. Girl’s a fuckin’ pistol, but she’s hot as hell.”

I nodded as I returned to Doc’s side and made sure all his tack was off before turning on the hose. Quinn’s friend seemed like a lot to handle, but Travis liked the ones with fire in them. The crazier, the better it seemed.

“Where are y’all goin’?” I found myself asking as I washed off the sweat and grime likely covering Doc’s coat—whatever color it was. I hadn’t the slightest idea. He was tall, that’s about all I knew. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what color, what kind of breed he was, or the lineage he came from. All that mattered was how he worked, and he worked damn good for me.

“Think she like’s dancin’,so I'm thinkin' of takin' her to go do that,” Travis replied.

"You serious about her?" I asked.

"I don't know. She and I don't feel like gettin' into anythin' heavy. I'm probably leavin' soon anyway. I ain't built for this hot as balls weather. What about y’all? What're you gonna go do?"

I shrugged, continuing my hurried, yet methodical process of washing down the horse. “I’m gonna take her to go see a movie.”

“Really? What movie?” Travis asked.

I rolled my eyes and scowled in his general direction, unsure if I was even looking at him directly. “Really, dumbass? How the hell do you think that’s gonna work?”

He chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, man. So what are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna take her out to dinner, I think.”

“Well, shit. Two nights out in town.” He whistled. “You must really like this girl, don’tcha?”

The closed off, reclusive part of me bristled at Travis’ prying words, but I knew he was asking out of genuine interest. At one point, before the accident, I’d easily have told him my plans. Hell, I’d have probably told the whole world my plans on social media, never missing an opportunity to meet a fan wherever I went, but now…well, now that hurt too much. The less people who knew who I was or where I was going the better.

I blew out a breath as I finished hosing off Doc. “I do,” I finally admitted. From the minute I’d heard her singing I’d been hooked. And the thought of seeing her soon urged me to hurry.

“Well, you got damn good taste…even for a blind dude.” Travis guffawed, smacking me on the back and startling the hell out of me. God, I hated when he did that. I wished at some point I’d get used to it. Maybe there was still hope, but so far, no such luck.

His words intrigued me, though. It didn’t really matter what Quinn looked like—she could have lied about everything she’d said last night, though I doubt she had. I’d have never known the difference, either way. But the shallow part of me wanted to know if the idea of her I had in my head was real or made up. “Is she as pretty as she is in my mind?” I asked, walking the hose back to the rack. I could hear the faint sound of water splattering to the floor. Travis must have been wiping Doc down with the sweat scraper to get rid of the extra water.

“Well, I don’t know what you got envisioned in that head of yours, but she’s fuckin’ hot,” Travis replied, the words sincere. He was a shit liar, I’d learned real quick when he was trying to lie for my benefit. This, thankfully, wasn’t one of those times.

I nodded, a soft smile coming to my lips. It shouldn’t have mattered. It didn’t in the end. It wouldn’t change anything. The connection I had with Quinn wasn’t based on looks at all, but how she made me feel. It was reassuring all the same, though. It made me feel like I still had a piece of that old me. I’d not been a bad looking guy—I couldn’t say what I looked like now, but it seemed most people only interacted with me out of pity, not pure interest. So knowing I could land someone attractive did a little number on my confidence.

“Speakin’ of her, you better get your ass cleaned up. You smell like sweat and horse. I doubt she’s gonna be into that shit.” Before I could even argue, he gave me a light shove in the direction of the house. “Go, I’ll put him away.”

“What about—”

He cut me off before I could even finish. “It’s fine, old man. Take the help when you can.”

I huffed, but blew out a “thank you” as I started counting out the three hundred eighty-seven paces to the house.