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Finley grabbed a second set of tools and gestured to the stall area. “We’ll pick up where I left off with everyone’s least favorite task—shoveling shit.” Kieran nodded and followed him back to where they’d first met. He could still hear the sickening thud of the rake connecting with Finley’s head, and his stomach tightened as he thought about it. Kieran listened as his boss discussed the importance of clean bedding for horses. “Filthy living conditions can lead to life-threatening illnesses.” They removed manure daily with a muck rake and used a pitchfork to remove the bedding every few weeks. “We use a combination of wood pellets and shavings, or we’d have to change the bedding every four or five days. New shavings get added between deep cleans as needed. You’ll have the hang of it in no time.”
They moved on to the next stall, and Finley demonstrated the best techniques for removing the filthy bedding. Kieran did his best to keep his eyes trained on the action inside the tight space, but occasionally, his attention and gaze strayed to Finley’s ass. After a few scoops, Finley straightened up and extended the pitchfork to him. “Your turn.”
It had looked simple enough, but the manure and urine-soaked bedding weighed more than Kieran had expected and smelled awful. There were undoubtedly worse situations he could find himself in. He pushed the shovel in, scooped out an enormous amount, pivoted, and flung it into the wagon. Kieran felt a slight twinge in his lower back but ignored it.
“Can I give you some advice?” Finley asked after he repeated the process three more times.
Kieran stilled and straightened up. “Sure.”
Finley walked into the stall, which seemed to shrink the surrounding walls, and took the pitchfork from his hand. He demonstrated again but slower, giving tips to prevent injuries to his shoulders, neck, and lower back. “There’s no doubt you’re in great shape, but you’ll use different muscle groups than with bodybuilding.” Kieran bit back a scoff. He used every single muscle when he worked out. Maybe not all at the same time, but he gave them equal attention in the gym. “I’m not leaning and twisting with my waist as much, so I’m putting more weight on my legs and less pressure on my back.”
“Yeah, okay,” Kieran said. He tried it Finley’s way a few times, but he couldn’t leverage his strength as much. Therefore, his shovelfuls were smaller, which meant more twisting and shit-throwing. Kieran’s way would be kinder to his body, so he returned to the method that worked best for him.
Finley said nothing, so he continued working until the dirty bedding was gone. He paid close attention to the volume of wood pellets and shavings to use. They moved to the next stall, and Kieran took the lead, digging his fork right in. Finley grabbed his tools and moved to the next pen so they could work side by side. Kieran’s brain was full of questions, and since none were personal, he let them fly.
“Why are you shoveling shit if it’s the most dreaded job?” he asked. “Why not delegate it?”
“I’ll never ask my team to do a task I’m not willing to do myself,” Finley replied. “A horse’s environment is critical to its health, and everyone needs a break from the tedious tasks to prevent burnout and harmful shortcuts.” Finley heaved a girthy sigh. “And I needed the physical work to burn off frustration.”
There was the wistfulness Kieran had heard in Finley’s voice earlier. He paused and looked at the wall separating their stalls. It had to be eight feet tall, so not even the jolly red giant could peer over the sides. More questions arose, and it was on his tongue to ask about the source of Finley’s melancholy, but he didn’t. Kieran reshuffled his questions like a deck of cards until he found one he could voice. He heaved a shovel of shit into the wagon and said, “How many horses do you have here?”
“Twelve right now, but the number always fluctuates. Some of our guests are here to train for various equine skills; others we foster until they’ve completed rehabilitation. We eventually find forever homes for the fostered horses. Some require more therapy than others.” There was a hint of frustration in Finley’s voice, but it was gone when he added, “We can house twenty horses right now, though Cash will build another barn if our program continues to grow.”
“That’s cool,” Kieran said, and he meant it. He’d never been around horses, but he thought they were beautiful and graceful. He couldn’t believe anyone would want to harm them, but people had no trouble hurting innocent kids and other animals.
“You okay?” Finley’s voice came from the front of his stall, not beside it.
He snapped his head around, alarmed he hadn’t noticed the movement. Hell, Kieran hadn’t been aware he’d even stopped working. He’d stood there staring off into space with a shovel full of manure in his hands. “Yeah. I was just thinking how much I don’t like people who abuse animals.”
Finley sighed, and his eyes shimmered with an emotion more unwelcome than pity. The last thing Kieran wanted was for Finley to admire or even like him.
“Might want to move,” he said gruffly, hoisting the shovel. “You’ve already had the shit knocked out of you. No need to be covered in it too.”
Finley laughed and shook his head. “You make an excellent point.” He whistled as he headed back to his stall. Kieran was just grateful Finley wasn’t singing and returned to his work. They worked well together and finished the remaining stalls before pivoting to food and water. Finley emphasized the importance of ensuring the horses had plenty of clean water.
“They will drink anywhere from five to ten gallons of water per day.”
“Each horse drinks that much?” Kieran asked.
Finley smiled. “Yes. Wait until you see how much they eat.”
Kieran continued asking questions as they marked one task off the list after another.
They were about to clean tack when a loud neighing sound came from the paddock, followed by several frenzied shouts.
“Damn it,” Finley bit out. “What has Nellie done now?” He took off running from the barn, and Kieran followed when curiosity got the best of him.
The outdoor arena was pure chaos as people moved horses to the opposite end from where a magnificent beast bucked and kicked. Nellie, he assumed, had a blueish-gray coat with black spots all over like someone had splattered paint from one end to the other. Her black mane and tail were on full display as she alternated between tossing her tail and kicking her hind legs.
“Never stand directly behind a horse,” Kieran said somberly. As if to emphasize his point, Nellie’s back hoof connected with the fence’s top rail and nearly splintered the wood. “Ever. You can argue form when shoveling manure, but never question this rule.”
“No, sir,” Kieran said automatically. He was too caught up in the sight before him to realize what he had said until the sexy blond chuckled.
“Finley or Fin will do,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
Finley expelled another weighty sigh as if he couldn’t decide who was more infuriating—the horse or the new guy. He stuck a few fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. Nellie stopped bucking and jerked her head in Finley’s direction. The whites of her eyes were showing, and Kieran thought that was a bad sign. He didn’t have any experience with the animals, but even he recognized she was terrified. She immediately started pawing the ground with her front hooves and panting heavily.
