They gave it another half an hour before Jake guided her back to the stables. This time Molly managed to get off by herself, with Jake only helping her as she landed. While it wasn't a massive work out for Bullet, he made Molly brush him down. Getting the saddle off was easier than getting it on, but it still gave her arms a workout.
Jake first showed her how to properly brush, his hands gently showing hers what to do, and then let her get on with it as he went to look after the other horses, but they could still talk over the walls of the individual bays. "D'ye mind if I put the radio on?" he asked. His father never allowed the radio on in the stables, but he loved it.
"Will it just be country?"
"Yeah but that's fahn right? Who don't like country?" Jake said, almost with a duh tone.
"Nah, I mean… Country's fine, but it's not really for me. It's all accents and drawls…." Molly said a little uncomfortably with a shrug. She remembered very little about growing up here or the music her dad had played around the house. And her mother hadn't maintained her country collection after her father passed away. It had made her too sad to listen to those memories.
"Yeah but ye sure ain't talkin' 'bout George Strait," Jake said, brushing the horse's mane, content with his chore. He loved being around the horses, clichéd as that was for a man growing up in Texas, even around these parts where there weren't many horse ranches left anymore.
"Who's George Strait?"
"What?" he asked, jaw dropping as he looked over the horse's back at her.
"Who's George Strait?" she repeated innocently, stroking the horse for a minute before she looked up at him. He hadn't moved since she'd repeated her question, too stunned. Everyone around these here parts knew George Strait, even if they'd grown up in the bigger cities. He was King George, one of the most well-known country singers in the US, from nearby Poteet. But he'd forgotten, as he was getting to know her, that she wasn't even from this state, not really. "Jake?" she asked carefully, resisting the urge to wave her hand in front of his face, his brown eyes looking like they were staring into space.
"I'm gonna forget ye said that," he finally came back to life after another minute. "In fact, I think we needs to forget about this whole thang. I can't teach ya," Jake said as he lifted the saddle onto the horse's back and tied the stirrups tightly.
"Wait, what?" Molly objected as she watched him pull the reins over. "You're pulling out of teaching me to ride because I don't know a country singer?" she asked, not sure what was happening right now. It seemed too bizarre to be real.
"This ain't never gonna work, let's face it. At least this way we saved ourselves some time," he told her, leading the horse out of its bay so he could climb on.
"How can you say that? Half an hour ago you said I was doing better." She was annoyed how much that stung, they'd only known each other for a week. A comment like that shouldn't have hurt. "God, you're such a… Stubborn… Cowboy!"
"Darn, I'm just a stupid, stubborn, redneck hick. Just come out 'n say it, city girl," Jake goaded her from atop of the horse, intimidating her a little being that high up.
"I never said that, and that's not what I meant," Molly tried to stop herself from shouting or getting emotional. She could not be so emotionally invested yet, or at least not appear to be. He'd think she was some young, hormonal, silly little teenager.
"Just admit it. Ye had me pigeonholed since the moment we met. Yer shallow 'n stuck up, even salt couldn't save ya," he responded, now spurring the horse on into a trot.
"Now who's got who pigeonholed?!" she yelled after him, following him out of the stables. He glanced over his shoulder at her for a moment before he broke out into a gallop. "Gah!" she let out in frustration before she left the stables and headed back towards her property so she could rant at her sister about him. Hopefully she'd understand.
The Matthews property backed onto the Rodgers property. The stables were on the edge between the two, divided only by the clichéd white picket fence. She quickly hopped over the fence, hoping she wouldn't catch her leg and fall, in case he was still around to see her clumsiness, proving she really was just a city girl.
When Molly had first moved back here less than two weeks ago, she had felt like the typical city girl. All she did the first day was complain about how poor the wifi connection was and that she wasn't able to record the shows she wanted because the TV here only had cable. But as she started to settle into country life, she was getting up earlier in the day and enjoying spending more time outside than she ever did back home. She actually quite liked wearing the cowboy boots and jeans, trying out new combinations of tops to go with her blue jeans. There was no way she'd wear jeans this often back in Phoenix, but she found them to be quite comfortable. She'd ventured into town a couple of times now to do some grocery shopping and everyone was pleasant enough. It seemed to be built round the schools and churches, with the Mr. Cowboy statue in the middle of the town square. It seemed to have a grand total of 7 restaurants, of which 3 were Barbecue related. But the one she'd tried on her last trip into town was quite nice.
"Jen, you in?" Molly hollered as she opened the outdoor screen door with a bang before opening the actual door.
"In the kitchen," she got back, making her wonder why on earth her sister was cooking at 2 in the afternoon already. "What's wrong?" Jennifer asked, looking up from the muffin cases she was filling. She knew the only reason her sister would've slammed the screen door open like that if she was annoyed.
"Stupid cowboys," Molly said. "Why are you baking?" she asked before explaining any more. It wasn't like her older sister was a whizz at baking, so it was kind of bizarre to see her in action like this.
"I just felt like it, it must be something about the air here. Anyway, what cowboys do you know for them to annoy you?" Jennifer skipped past her cooking skills. They'd been here less than two weeks and this was the first time her sister had mentioned a cowboy. Despite this town being proud of their cowboy heritage, there weren't necessarily that many cowboys as such left. So to befriend one this quick was a surprise to her.
"Jake Rodgers, he's such an ass. Do you know what he did? He pulled out of teachin' me to ride because I don't know who George Strait is! I mean, what the hell?!" Molly finally started her rant, wanting to offload.
"Good," her sister stopped her short. She couldn't decide if she was surprised or angry at that response.
"What, why? That's just silly, I mean, who cares if I don't know…"
"No, I mean good that he pulled out of teachin' ye. I don't want you to learn and I definitely don't want you to hang around with that boy," she kept on surprising her.
"Why not? You were the one who was encouraging me to make friends and he's our neighbor," Molly said, starting to sound a little petulant.
"I do want you to make friends, but not Jake Rodgers," Jennifer said, now properly putting on her strict older sister voice.
"Are you at least gonna give me a reason?" her younger sister asked, scarcely daring to believe that she was being so unreasonable. Yes, Jake had annoyed her today, but she'd not noticed anything else weird or scary about him for her sister to respond this way and order her not to hang out with him.
"No, I won't. And this is the last time we talk about it. No hanging around with the Rodgers boy, or on their property," she said, sounding scarily like her mother used to when she grounded them for arguing or not adhering to their curfew.
"This is not fair! First you drag me down here and now you're ruining any form of social life I have," Molly exclaimed, now really sounding like the younger sister. "This place sucks!" she continued dramatically as she stomped her way up to her bedroom, slamming each and every door she possibly could along the way, which was a grand total of one. Jennifer took a deep breath as she counted to 10 before she continued with the cupcakes she'd been making.