Mayfly Melodies

Twelve

Stephen

There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man—Winston Churchill

He'd been preparing for this moment for years.

Stephen wasn't quite sure what had prompted this sudden urge to ask Bailey out, but all he knew was it had arisen, quite suddenly, out of his chest until he could hardly think of anything else. If anything, he just wanted to get it done and over with. Either she would say yes, or she would say no. But Stephen was done waiting. He wanted to know now whether Bailey felt the same way about him that he felt about her.

It wasn't an easy thing to do. They'd been friends for years. Stephen could hardly remember a time that Bailey Grant hadn't been a part of his life. Even when they hadn't seen each other, it wasn't like they hadn't talked. They'd texted, albeit periodically, as she'd been on tour or he'd been away on the circuit, at least until he'd gotten hurt. Then he'd been texting her from the safety of the ranch as she went around the world, performing in front of sold-out stadiums filled with adoring fans.

There were days that Stephen felt entirely inadequate compared to her. After all, how could he hope to match with someone who was internationally recognized? Someone who could have her pick of any guy? How could he hope to compete with them? With the musicians and the actors and all the other famous people who Bailey had met over the past four years; people who had undoubtedly noticed, like he had, how special a girl like Bailey was.

Stephen lifted the wheelbarrow full of horse crap and pushed it out of the Grant's barn. He'd been clearing the barn out for over an hour. It had been going faster when he'd had Travis's help, but then Rob had grabbed his youngest son and the two had headed out for the road where Rhea had said that one of their neighbour's trucks had broken down.

The younger girl had been out with Bailey on a trail ride when they'd seen the smoke through the trees. According to Rhea, they'd stopped to investigate where they'd come across the neighbour needing help. She'd gone for help while Bailey stayed behind, waiting for her father to show up with his truck.

Rhea hadn't mentioned which neighbour it was, the Grant's were surrounded by ranches on three sides, but from the way that she was sighing wistfully, he could guess. Considering that two of their neighbours happened to older, in their mid-forties and late fifties, respectively, and the other was a young, twenty-something bull rider, Stephen was fairly certain that the girls had run into Noah Hartley. He'd seen the dreamy look on Rhea's face more times than he could count, both on the girls in town, the buckle bunnies at the rodeo, and around the Grant farm on the rare occasion that Rhea had spotted him working on his ranch while out on one of her trail rides.

Stephen had to admit, somewhat grudgingly, that Noah Hartley was a good looking guy. He was taller than Stephen and broader-shouldered. He also knew that Hartley had more muscle than he did and he'd been told, by a swooning Rhea, that the man also happened to have 'drop dead gorgeous eyes.'

This, of course, was something he'd never noticed for himself. But, from the way the girls reacted, he had to admit that it was probably true.

The one thing going for Stephen was that Noah seemed perfectly content to be by himself. He and his sister rarely showed up at town events, whether it was the Spring fair that had rolled through a few weeks earlier or the Christmas tree lighting in the town square, they never came. The rodeo classic was one of the first times Stephen had even heard of Noah actively engaging in an activity in Tishomingo.

"—so dreamy," Rhea was saying as Stephen pushed the wheelbarrow back into the barn and set it down in front of Fabio's stall.

The horse belonged to Travis and lived up to his namesake. He was chestnut in colouring with a mane and tail that were flaxen. Stephen wasn't quite sure how he'd done it, but somehow the animal had perfected the perfect hair toss, where his long mane shook out around his head in the same manner that the wind might blow through the hair of the human Fabio.