“Not much. Our vet tech program mostly works on small domestics.”
“Want to help?”
“Love to.”
They chatted across the horse, Ramon talking about his classes at the junior college, Brandon about the store. Wit was a little over sixteen hands tall, so Brandon could just see Ramon’s warm eyes over her back. When it was time to comb out her tail, Ramon sat on the bench, legs swinging in the air, fidgeting. Even in his sweater, Ramon shivered noticeably. After a few minutes, Brandon stepped over to him, one knee against Ramon’s leg, and he briskly rubbed the other man’s arms and shoulders.
“You’re freezing. Why don’t you go get us some coffee? Take my jacket.” Brandon pulled a five from his pocket.
“That would be great. Thanks.”