Page 86 of Catching Sparks

“Are you sure it was either of them? Kip’s been out with Wade all morning, and Joker’s a grazer. He’ll be fine for a while yet. Don’t tell me I know more about your horse than you do.”

The first time I met Joker, the polka-dotted mare, I wasn’t surprised to learn she was Johnny’s. She’s just as wild and ridiculously outgoing as her owner. If not somehow more so.

Johnny straightens, tucking his hand in the pocket of his jeans. “You don’t. I’m just—” He glances around the barn awkwardly. “You’re a damn fool.”

I release the wire I’m gripping and shift my body to face him fully. It took him longer than I thought it would to come looking for a fight with me. He’s been acting off around me all week, shooting me disappointed looks and speaking in short two-word replies. I haven’t bothered to tell him that I warned him a friendship with me was ill advised because dammit, I’ve grown to care about the guy. His disapproval shouldn’t matter so much to me.

“Are you going to explain why you think I’m a fool, or are you expecting me to guess?” I ask.

“You had a real chance with Poppy. She may have been the only one other than me that genuinely thought you were an alright guy beneath all of that asshole attitude, but maybe we were wrong. You and I both know that you didn’t buy her a washer and dryer for no reason. Nobody does something like that just because, and especially not you. It was a scumbag move to tell her otherwise,” he shouts, losing his temper for the very first time in front of me.

My shoulders roll forward, a defeated sigh escaping me. “I know, Johnny. You’re right.”

He powers through, skipping over my acceptance. “And, just so you know, if I didn’t already like you, I wouldn’t bother sharing that she’s going out on a date tonight with some random guy Bryce found for her, but I figure you should have a chance to—” Pausing, he clears his throat. “Wait. Did you just say that I’m right?”

The question passes through my mind like a harsh blow of wind. I’m too focused on everything spoken prior.

“What did you say?” I ask, deceptively calm. My skin flushes red-hot.

He swallows. “Poppy’s going on a date. Tonight. I don’t know the guy. Bryce mentioned it in passing when I caught her at the cafe this morning.”

My skin ripples with anger and jealousy. All sane thought fades. Whatever Johnny sees on my face has him stumbling over his next words, stepping toward me.

“There’s still time to apologize to her and convince her not to go. It’s obvious why she’s entertaining the idea of this date.”

“Bryce told you that on purpose.” I scrape the words up my dry throat. “She wanted me to find out. Either to punish me, or . . .”

“Or to kick your ass into gear? Yeah, I figured.”

“And Poppy agreed to go? She genuinely wants to go on a date with this guy?”

I wish it didn’t hurt so bad to consider that. A month ago, I wouldn’t have given a shit about who she was dating. But now I want to find the guy who thought for even a moment he had a chance with my woman and beat his face in.

My woman. Christ. Who am I right now? Brody?

Nostrils flaring, I scrape my nails through my hair. Johnny’s eyes are sad. Each emotion is etched clear as day on his face as well, and for the first time ever, I don’t hate that there’s someone worried about me. It feels nice.

“She’s hurt, Garry. You had to have known that she’s interested in you. I can’t see how you of all people would have missed that. Aren’t you supposed to be good at reading people in your line of work?”

I choke on a pained laugh. “I run a recording company, not a criminal defense firm.”

He cracks a slight smile. “Fair enough.”

“And I did know. She wasn’t the problem. Not ever. It’s all me,” I admit, so quietly the words are hardly audible.

“There’s still time to fix it. Her date isn’t until six.”

“Where?”

If this guy thought a date in Cherry Peak was worthy of her time, he really wants to end up beneath my fucking cowboy-booted feet.

“About an hour east of CP in Lethbridge.”

I’ve already got the leather gloves yanked off my fingers and jammed into my back pocket by the time he finishes speaking. Adrenaline pumps in my veins, urging me to move faster and make plans. To get my shit together before I make another mistake that I’m going to regret.

I use the bottom of my shirt to wipe my forehead. “What’s the time?”

“Noon,” he says without pause.

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