Page 57 of Unstable

BOURBON STAYS IN BEDtoday, a miniscule tail wag from his laying position my “Good morning.” I slip him a pill before giving him a real helping of food and water, waiting ‘til he’s finished to gently coax him outside to take care of business.

After he’s done and again resting comfortably, I take a shower and make myself some toast for breakfast. Then I go outside to track down Gatlin ‘cause I’ll need him to look in on Bourbon and the horses while I’m out today. Cows should be fine, unless he has extra time for a quick check on them too.

I finally find him, already in the horse barn—so one task tackled. I explain about yesterday and he assures me he’ll keep a close eye on my dog.

So I’m set to head out for my two—maybe three if I’m up to it—stops in town.

First I go and buy the new dog food, avoiding being stopped and chatted up, thankfully. When I’m climbing in my truck, my phone rings. Not only is he the only person who ever calls me, but “I’m Moving On,” his subliminal ringtone, is also a big clue.

“Hello, Keaton,” I answer.

“Darlin’. How’s your day?” His velvety voice eases over the line.

“Just getting started. Yours?”

“Good. I’m at the hardware store grabbing some paint for my shed, and it occurred to me, I don’t know your favorite color anymore. I know it used to be hot pink back in the day, but girls change it a lot, don’t they?”

Not an out of nowhere, random question like he’s trying to pretend. Nope, he’s up to something. And for fear of sounding full of myself or presumptuous, especially with the way all his radical declarations have been scrambling my brain lately, I don’t dare assume out loud. But the first thing that pops in my head is jewelry.

At a hardware store, though?

No, Henley!Jeez—that’s part of his cover story.

Or, I am full of myself and being conceitedly assumptive. See? Brain-swirling vortex of confusion.

I decide to play it safe, and humble, seeing if I can trick the turtle out of his shell and not embarrass myself like a pompous ass.

“So you were just curious, looking at all the paint, what my favorite color was?” Wow, that came out more aloof and non-teasing than I figured it would.

“Yep. Wanna know everything about you.”

“Well, it’s kinda a trick question. It depends on what we’re talking about. Favorite color on me, favorite color in a sunset, color that makes me feel happiest? I can’t answer accurately without more information.” I suppress my snicker. Bet he wasn’t planning on that long-winded loophole.

He wasn’t. Thus the frustrated sigh in my ear. “Say you went colorblind tomorrow, except for one color, the only one you could see for the rest of your life. What would you pick?”

It’s actually a pretty cool question—seems the turtle has some clever tricks of his own and I can appreciate the match in wits. Keaton’s always held his own there, I should’ve known.

And I also know, we’ll go back and forth on this if I don’t just call it out. “Don’t buy me anything, Keaton, I mean it.”

“Who’s got the ego now?” he fires back in a taunting lilt. “Just answer the damn question, stubborn ass.”

I’m gonna go ahead and answer, honestly, despite already knowing what it’ll do to his head. “Blue. A pale, crystalline blue.”

It’s the truth. Even at our worst, Keaton’s eyes have never failed to catch my attention. They’re truly the prettiest pair I’ve ever seen, able to change from a marine so clear you could swim in them to a sapphire so deep you could get lost.

But the light, see-through shade, when he’s at his happiest has always been my absolute favorite.

“Darlin’,” he croons in a husky whisper, “you just made my damn day. The moments you give me may be very few and very far between, but when you do, you give ‘em just fucking right.”

I knew he’d make the connection.

“Glad I could oblige,” I secretly smile. “Was that all you called for?”

“For now, yes. Where you headed next?”

“Guess I’ll go to Miss Linda’s boutique for Donna’s gift. That place still open?”

“Yep, still open, same spot. Have fun and tell them both hello for me.”

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