put a little sugar in the tank

Mickey listened to Beck's words about Kit with genuine interest, nodding slowly. Aslan had described him pretty much the same way, so it wasn't a surprise. More than anything, Mickey was the kind of person who used to feel the exact same way. She'd never really thought a relationship was in her future, but here she was: dating a man she was pretty set on spending all her time with as often as possible, for as long as possible. "I mean, I'm living proof that anybody can become a 'relationship guy' if they meet the right person," she pointed out, giving Beck a smile. "I sure as shit never saw this one coming."

The distance she kept between the horse and herself didn't change immediately. She wasn't suddenly open to the idea any more than she'd been when she showed up, but the little one wasn't as scary as she'd thought it would be. It wasn't that horses scared her with their power, not when she handled powerful machines day after day. It strictly came down to the fact that their eyes were on different sides of their head, really, and how she couldn't quite look them in the eyes to establish dominance. It was the same way with most fish, actually, and those ones were just ugly to begin with. "You never know, it could happen," she teased Beck back, taking a tiny step forward. Forcing herself to uncross her arms, Mickey slid her hands into her back pockets, spine ramrod straight as she kept her gaze locked on the horse. "Do you get to name them, or do they have to have those weird names because of their bloodlines and shit?"

"Yeah, those hooves're real good at drink-making," Beck snickered, but like almost everything Beck did, there was no real bite behind anything. He was rough around the edges, but harmless, as long as you could tolerate his sense of humor. Beck shrugged at her question but answered it easily. "Both. I don't always name 'em, but sometimes I do. They get a name on their papers. Usually one that's got some kinda reference to one of the horses in their lineage. S'why you get a lot with Metallic in their name, if they come outta Metallic Cat's lines. He's a big name stud. Was even in that Yellowstone TV show. Pet name can be whatever you want, though. Smoke, one of my girls, she's got the word Smoky in her registered name, and it worked out that I liked Smoke as a barn name. Whiskey and a lotta the others ain't got nothing to do with their paperwork names. I just like naming 'em after food n' drink," Beck chuckled.

Having had enough of the foals, he gestured for Mickey to follow him, heading down to the other pasture. "Smoke's over here. My folks farm is that way." He pointed off in the distance, over a huge stretch of greenery. "I put a gate in the fence between the properties so my horses and theirs can come and go together. So, these're my babies. Mostly. Some're my folks or my family's." He pointed them out, naming them. Pepsi, Smoke, Butterscotch, Whiskey, Snickers, Cheddar. Food names, like he'd said. "Pick one," he said with a lopsided grin. "Which one you wanna see me ride?"

"That's right, I am dangerous," she said with a threatening voice, despite the smile on her face. She either looked playful or like some kind of psychopath, but Mickey wasn't going to worry too much either way. "We'll see about that." She wasn't ready to get on a horse yet, even just being in the same general space as them was giving her plenty of anxiety that she didn't want to unpack. She watched the baby come closer, eyes squinting as it pushed its head through the fence. As much as she wanted to put on a brave face, Mickey instinctively crossed her arms over her chest and took a step back, glaring at the foal as though it had called her a rude name at a bar once. Beck pet the horse, and Mickey gritted her teeth before taking a tiny step forward, not giving much more in the moment. "They look kind of gangly, like my brothers did in their preteens. Like their bodies grew too fast all at once and they haven't bulked up at all." It wasn't an insult, exactly, more just a statement of fact. "How long do they get to stay with their moms before you start training them and stuff?"

Beck flashed a sideways grin at the mention of Kit and Azra. "Oh, you caught onto that, huh?" Kit McGrady, not one for subtlety. Beck wondered if they had managed to keep their situation under wraps. Apparently not enough for Mickey. "I don't know if I've ever known Kit to have it bad for anyone. He's a love 'em and leave 'em type, but there's something to be said for the person you always keep coming back to, right? He ain't talked about her to me much. He's a good dude, though. He won't treat nobody like crap. Just don't know if he's a relationship guy. S'all just my outsider perspective though. All it takes is one, right?" That'd been what had happened with Beck and Marisol. He wasn't expecting to meet the love of his life at the rodeo, a model, of all things, and he sure wasn't expecting to hit the road a couple years later and break her damn heart.

The way Mickey approached the horse was amusing. How she was so fearless, flying planes at unfathomable speeds and yet anxious of a little weanling. "He ain't gonna bite ya. Their mouths tickle when they try and nibble your hand or your sweater." Beck nodded at the assertion of them being gangly. "Heh, yeah. They grow funny. They grow butt first and then the front end catches up. Look like a seesaw for a bit. Exact weaning age varies but we usually do it about six to eight months old, usually from September. I start teaching 'em how to get haltered and pick up their feet and stuff from younger, though. Keep it simple for the babies. Just show 'em how to be soft and comfortable with people." He watched as Mickey interacted with the foals. "You still looking at 'em like they're gonna try and spike your drink at a bar."

She listened sympathetically, maintaining a straight face as best she could. Her composure nearly cracked at 'screwed the pooch.' She didn't even know that was a phrase people still used. "Is that code for 'you done fucked up'?" She asked in between short and breathless laughs. "God, I like hangin' out with you. Even if you call me kid. I'm going to be twenty-five soon, so I'm pretty sure legally you can't call me that." She stuck her tongue out at him, probably not helping her case, but whatever. "Not that it would stop you."

When Beck spoke about his ex, Adriana raised an eyebrow. "So, probably like looking in a mirror, then. Except I'm not that soft. Not really. Put a puppy in front of me and then we'll talk, though. And I dunno, I haven't been golfing since I went with...well, that's not important." She didn't know what to call him. Boyfriend was technically accurate, but she was kind of starting to feel like maybe it shouldn't be that. "But you know what, she does sound like fun. We have a dart board. Think if you tell her it has your face on it, she might be more inclined to come?" She gave Beck a gentle nudge, a silent apology for any salt poured in the wound. "Thanks for getting me out here. Nice change of scenery. And honestly, these nachos are top tier."

Conversation about Marisol could be pretty heavy, so Beck simply answered with a shrug. "Sure, I done fucked up. And it'd be just like looking at a reflection, if your reflection in the mirror was six foot tall," Beck chuckled. He opted not to mention Marisol's huge rack. It was only polite. "You think you're not soft? Girl, you're out here ready to squeal over the Corgis. C'mon. Everyone's soft for cute little animals." Beck had always been an animal lover, even if he also saw their functions as part of the food chain and within the farming and agriculture businesses. He still got that soft warmth in his chest over a cute pupper or a foal being born.

Beck could sense the genuine nature of Adri's words, how grateful she was to go out and do something fun, and he met her words with a big grin of his own. "I like hanging out with you too. And your vibe is still kid, even if you ain't that much younger than me." Five years was nothing, really, but he liked to tease her. "Ah, it's no sweat. Wanted to get you out of that dusty bar for once. Love the place, but ain't good for ya to be all cooped up. Next time, I'm gonna get you out to the farm. We'll make an outdoorswoman outta you get, Reyes." Beck finished off his hot dog, wiping his hands with a napkin before tossing it into a nearby, already overflowing garbage can. "C'mon. Let's get our seats. Bronc riding is starting soon. Maybe someone'll get thrown into the front row again."

“I sometimes forget Blackstone Ridge is in Texas. I imagined it’d be less…” He thought for a moment, trying to find the right word. “Open and tolerant?” He shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t particularly care what people thought of him. Most likely whatever they were thinking he was already thinking about himself, too, so who was he to argue with them? When Beck mentioned his own complicated ex situation, Jin raised his eyebrows slightly. “That’s… a unique form of meddling. Are they trying to get you back together, or just make you suffer a little bit?” He asked with a small smile. 

Jin stubbed out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray, considering Beck’s words about Spencer waiting until he’s ready. “Maybe. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been ready for anything in my entire life, though, so it might be a few centuries until that day comes.” He said with a small chuckle. “As long as the horses aren’t right next to me, it’ll be alright. They’re fine at a distance.” 

"It ain't perfect." Beck had unfortunately ran into a few people who had taken issue with him, often in very impolite ways when they really had a problem, but he was at a point now where he just had to live his own life, not let small-minded folks get him down. "But it's home. I pick the people I surround myself with real carefully, and the ones who don't fuck with me, well, they can just go mind their own business somewhere else," he shrugged. It'd taken years to get to that point, though. Closed-minded bigots had literally taken his brother from him. It was hard not to be angry at times.

Beck let out a small snicker at Jin's admission he'd never really been ready for anything. "Ain't that how it is? Life happens whether you're ready or not." Shoot. He'd already finished his second cigarette. He stubbed it out again in the ash tray. "I can drop a hint with Spencer, drop the idea of inviting you over for dinner some time, keep you at a safe distance from the horses," he laughed. He always found it amusing that people were afraid of them. They were just big babies. "It was nice to meet you. I'd better get back in before my friends send out a search party."

She watched as her dad brought the bottle over and handed it to Beck. Phillip zeroed in on that bottle and started to move his tiny feet. "Oh, someone knows it's dinner time." Cece spoke and poked his chubby cheek from where Beck was holding him. "Don't bite his fingers, okay. Uncle beck is friend."

"Hunting like in the woods?" Cece asked as she tilted her head. "How does anyone learn to fish? Like trial by error?"

Eli sighed, hearing the commotion outside, and knew one twin was about five seconds from a meltdown. Getting rosebud in arms and silently communicating to his daughter that they'd be back, keep Beck company. "Want something to drink, Beck? Food?"

"It's okay, he got no teeth. I've had plenty of small creatures gnawing at my fingers in my time. You should see a teething Cattle Dog or Malinois. Wow-ee! There's a reason they call them a Malligator." Beck had been raised around baby goats, cows, horses, and of course, farm dogs and cats. A baby and their soft little gums weren't gonna do nothin'.

"Hunting for food, conservation, furs. I don't really do trophy hunting. Ain't my thing. But I guess I never really thought about how ya learn. My pops taught me when I was little." He just kinda knew what times of day were good, what the signs in the water and the woods meant. "Is it too late for coffee?" Beck snickered. "Yeah, sure, why not. Coffee and I'm gonna grab whatever your ravenous siblings have left over. See if your pie can give my ex-girlfriend's a run for her money." Shoot, he musta let his guard down to drop the Marisol bomb. Beck stood, cradling the tiny newborn in his arms as he walked over to delicately transfer him back to his crib. "Did you judge a certain apple pie at the baking contest? How was it?"

“Well, in fairness, you walked up to me and started talking about mine. It would be rude not to ask you about yours.” Jin teased with a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing wrong with not being the settling down type, though. Sometimes I think that’s the way to go, honestly.” He said, a little more than he meant to of his own uncertainty bleeding through. 

Jin looked over at Beck at the mention of family dinner. “I mean, any dinner I don’t have to cook myself is good with me, but I wouldn’t want to invite myself. I figure Spencer will when he feels ready to introduce me to the rest of the crew.” He shrugged and smiled some. “From what you’ve both said, the family sounds great.” He looked down at the cigarette in his hand. “No horseback riding required, right?” He added, only kind of joking. 

"My folks ain't perfect, by any means, but I just know my mom was out there hiding birthday cards from the relatives that kept deliberately dead-naming and misgendering me even when I was a teenager, and she grew up conservative Christian. She treated Spence like her son when his own parents treated him like garbage. Ain't nobody in this family gonna make you feel outta place. If anything, they're just gonna be real fuckin' annoying."

Beck smoked his second cigarette of the last ten minutes. Trying to figure out where he stood with Marisol was like navigating a minefield. "You got your situation. I got mine. Complicated ex that I really fucked over. My family keeps inviting her over for dinner, too, so talk about annoying. Sheesh." He gave a low laugh, shaking his head. The Tatums just wanted their kids (including Spencer) to be happy. To Susan Tatum, that meant meddling, and cooking. "If Spencer ain't asked, it's probably out of trying to make sure you're ready. But no, no horseback riding required. They'll just come up to the fence and neigh atcha from afar. Tae wasn't ever too keen on 'em, either. Said he was too much of a city boy. But he came around a little."

"Normally I'd run the other way at the mention of babies, but I'll take you up on that this time. I'm not totally certain I'm going to ride one, but I did at least wear riding-appropriate attire." Mickey paused and spun in a small circle, showing off her jeans and cowboy boots. She'd only bought them because she felt like everyone in Texas owned a pair, but they weren't the worst shoes she'd ever owned. "I wore these to the rodeo events at the fair just to break 'em in, too. Good news is I can still kick some ass if I need to so don't go getting any wild ideas about laughing at me."

He gave a little whistle at her showing off her boots. "Hey, they look nice! You're gonna look the part. We gotta get you a cowboy hat. A nice Western shirt. You're gonna be a real cowgirl." Beck had quite the collection, but day to day, he normally just wore baseball caps and t-shirts around the barn. "I ain't gonna laugh atcha. I think you're more dangerous than them horses if I piss ya off. I ain't gonna make ya do anything, but it'd be real cool if you were comfortable enough to get on one. I'll get ya a nice one." He flashed her a smile before heading up the side of the paddock.

Beck gestured for Mickey to follow. The property was expansive, dozens of acres of pastures, outbuildings, barns, Tatum Dairy Farm and Beck's little staff house on the edge of the property off in the distance. There were different areas for stallions, geldings and mares to be turned out, different foals out with some younger horses, yearlings and two year olds. "The youngest ones, these're like seven to eight months old or so, they were weaned not that long ago. That's why they ain't with their mamas," Beck explained, clicking his tongue and calling to encourage some of the littles to come over. "They're curious, see? I try to get 'em used to people real young, but I don't overdo it. Just show 'em how to pick up their feet, get a halter on. Stuff that's gonna prepare 'em to be a good riding horse some day." He looked over at Mickey with a smile, trying to assess her comfort, or lack thereof, with the animals. "You can pet 'em." One foal, a pretty bay and white paint with two blue eyes, was already sticking his head through the fence to demand Beck's attention, and was rewarded with nose rubs and scratches in return.

"You're not no good," she argued, finally looking at him. "You made a real fuckin' jackass move, but you're not like, a terrible person. Even though I wish you were sometimes," she added under her breath. It certainly would've been easier to stay angry at him, curse him out, and then never see him again. She managed to turn around to attempt to get back in her car when Beck's question surprised her. She gave it a moment before responding, still sniffling. "That depends. If you want me to stick around..."

Beck had dared to imagine seeing her again once in a while, but he never knew what to do with those thoughts. He was a cut and dry kinda person. Believed in what was in front of him. When she wasn't there, out somewhere in the world presumably moving on with her life and hating his guts, it was easy to not think about the possibility of what might've happened. But she was here now. It'd be dumb to just let her leave again. "It ain't about me," he said, but why the hell else would she come back here? Just 'cause her family owned The Links? They owned shit all over the country, hotels on several continents. Sports teams. Resorts. She couldn't be at all of 'em. "But yeah. Yeah, Mars. I want you to stay." He offered her a dumb, scrunched up, half-smile. "I'll even unblock you on facebook and instagram."

"Yeah, since we were kids," he replied with a laugh, knowing how strange it was to anyone on the outside. "Even though he ditched me to go off to war and then tried to die on me," he added. He could make those jokes now, but at the time, nearly losing Aslan had crushed him. The guy was his best friend, and that made the situation with Azra all that more unique for him. "You remember the homecoming dance a few months after I went out on the circuit with Dillon Lucas? How I bragged about not bein' a virgin anymore? Aslan's twin sister, Azra, was the girl. She's..." Kit chewed on his bottom lip before scratching an imaginary itch on his nose. "She's just always been different, even since then. I'm kind of her soft place to land when shit goes wrong, but lately we've been running into each other even when shit's not goin' wrong. I'm not sure what the hell any of it means, though."

Kit couldn't hold back the laugh that escaped him at the idea of Mickey Maddox riding a horse. He'd only been around her a little bit, but she'd made it a point to tell him how crazy she thought he was for his love of horses. "If you get her on a horse and you don't send me video evidence, then I'll never speak to you again. She's scared of them, you know that? Cracks me up, because horses are so damn skittish, and she flies jet planes and shoots at bad guys for a living. I told her it's a good thing they never taught horses to fly planes for the enemy."

Beck scrunched up his face. "Tried to die? Jesus, man. You mean like, an actual injury or the general might-die-ness of being in a war in the first place?" It might've been a little nosey of Beck to ask, but hell if he wasn't curious. Beck hadn't been in too many actually dangerous situations, but he had his own kind of scars, and he knew how they affected folks. Only made it even more meaningful that he and Mickey had found each other.

Some of their other trainers had been working horses and cattle in the arena already. Their ranch hands and assistant trainers who worked the chutes knew what they were doing. Beck continued the conversation with Kit as the two tacked up the horses by the shed. "That girl? You've been dipping your pen in gold ink or whatever? Is that a thing they say?" Beck knew how it was to fall for someone way above your social standing. Beck might have worked a for multi-millionaire these last years, but Marisol's family were invested for probable billions, and Beck had just been some ranch guy when they'd met, before Ethan had died, before Brett had taken him on. Even now, the wealth wasn't really his. When you totalled up the horses, the trailers, and the vehicles in his own name, it wouldn't exactly have been a modest sum, but it wouldn't come close to the big guys. Not even a blip on their radar. "Is it a case of y'all got feelings for each other and don't know how to go about it kinda deal, or y'all just come back to each other 'cause it's familiar?"

The idea of Mickey on a horse did give Beck a little chuckle. "Well, she tried to make me throw up in the back of one of those planes. It's my mission to at least show her what it's like where I sit mosta the day. I'll try to take pictures and videos, but if she says no..." Beck tightened his horse's girth, shaking his head. "I don't mess with a lady like that."

The nickname had her let out a broken gasp. "Y-you can't...call me that anymore," she said, refusing to look at Beck again. She couldn't. "Yeah, you did fuck it up." She was sniffling now, not quite believing her ex's words. At least she got an apology, right? The bare minimum. "But there was a reason, right? You said it yourself, I couldn't have done anything. I wasn't...good enough. Why else would you leave after two years building a life with me?"

"Fuck, babe." He ran tattooed hands over his face and eyes, leaning against the fence to keep himself upright. He felt as if he was about to throw up. "You were plenty good, Marisol. You are plenty good. I'm just the no good cowboy who didn't know how to deal with actual complicated emotions." She wasn't looking at him, he noticed. She was disgusted by him, and rightfully so, but he knew she was hurting. She'd never liked for other people to see that. She guarded it, even after all this time. "I--" What? What was he supposed to say? I'm sorry again? "Shit." He forced himself to take a breath, make an attempt at collecting himself. "Are you... are you sticking around a bit? In town?"

When he spoke Spanish again, Adri snorted as she popped another nacho into her mouth. "Claramente." She responded. "Eres como un rompecabezas. No lo odio." If he was like a puzzle, so was she. Adri was nothing if not self aware. She listened, chewing thoughtfully as her eyes drifted to their surroundings. "Nah, you're not stupid. Just a little out of touch with technology. But some people find that charming. I kind of admire how unapologetic you are. Probably because I'm the same way, in a sense."

She kicked at the ground absently, then gave Beck a sidelong glance. "You mind if I ask how it ended? We can change the subject, or you can throw a loaded question at me if you want. Soften the blow." She shrugged, a small smile on her lips. "She sounds like a firecracker, though. I know the type."

You wouldn't have thought he had millions of dollars behind him, the way he walked around in worn wrangler jeans and dirty cowboy boots, baseball cap and white t-shirts under plaid shirts. He was still just a kid from the dairy farm. His folks and the business were doing good now, but it was nothing compared to the machine his employer at Golden Oak had behind him. Brett was the generationally wealthy person who just happened to love Beck's dad and his family to the point they became an extension of his own, and no matter how many hundreds of thousands of dollars he let Beck invest in horses for the programme, Beck was always that same person who would rather be outside covered in dirt and hay.

"Don't really understand running a farm in a little game when I got one to run in real life," he chuckled. "You're lucky I even found clothes that weren't covered in horse shit," he joked. They had stable hands to do a lot of the stall cleaning, mucking out the pastures, but some days Beck still enjoyed the routine of doing his own horse chores if he could fit it in. Marisol never would have been happy with that life, right? It was easier to pretend he hadn't hurt her as badly as he did when he thought about her billionaire family and successful modelling career, tried to act as if she hadn't bought a little house in small town Arizona with some land to raise horses with him. He'd thrown it all away.

"Ah," he started, contemplating how best to explain his complete failure as a romantic partner. "I screwed the pooch on that one. Couldn't deal with my shit. After my brother died, I disappeared on her. Literally." And yet he couldn't help the affectionate, nostalgic chuckle at Adriana calling Marisol a firecracker. "God, she is. She's all fire and fury and somehow the softest person you ever met. You'd probably get along. Don't know that she spends too much time at the Whiskey Barrel, though. Don't even know where she hangs out anymore. Maybe the golf club. Think her family still owns it."

Beck’s question on his take on things made Jin pause for a moment. “Well, we’re all just figuring things out, I guess.” He said, taking another drag of his cigarette. He didn’t want to outright tell Beck he wasn’t sure where he stood at all. Things were just getting more complicated in his mind, and he hated it. “It’s nice where things are now, I think, you know, just… Getting to know them better.” He had known Tae way back when they were in school, but there were a lot of things he didn’t know about him. And Spencer he had only met after coming to Blackstone Ridge. He looked down at his cigarette for a moment, contemplating what to say next. “What about you, though? Are you seeing anyone?” He raised an eyebrow and looked up at Beck. 

"Why's everyone wanna ask about my love life recently?" Beck asked with a low chuckle. His cigarette had burned down to the filter, so he tossed it in the ash tray. He immediately pulled another, lighting that one, too. Marisol Torres was a two cigarette problem. "No, I ain't seeing anyone. Think I've slept with almost every lesbian and Bicurious Georgia that Blackstone has to offer, and a handful or two more on the road." Beck let out a soft exhale, blowing cigarette smoke into the air. "That ain't to brag. I'm not really doing much of anything besides work recently, but I haven't really been the settling down type in a while."

Beck didn't want to put any pressure on things with Jin. It wasn't his place, and while he definitely got his nose in his cousin's business, there was a limit to how deep he could pry. "So, hey, does that mean you wanna come to family dinner some time? Or is that the kinda thing that sends a guy running for the hills?"