Page 33 of Honey Bee Hearts

“Already?” Gunnar groans, but he drops his fork and stands before grabbing his hat where he’d hung it on a hook. “See you later, Florida Girl.”

She waves at Gunnar and Colt as they cast a lingering look toward her. Her smile makes both of them straighten and I scowl. Well, shit. That ain’t good.

Can’t have them getting distracted at a time like this. There’s too much riding on their attention to business.

Still, can’t blame them. There’s something about that Wild West Barbie that makes me want to get her out of my system before I get too interested.

Chapter 20

Fable

An hour later, I’m wandering around the yard near the big house, wondering what I can possibly do to keep myself entertained. Jethro trots beside me, happy to be wherever I am. I’d made sure to bring him a bit of sausage from breakfast, which he’d happily taken. Since then, he’s been sticking to me like glue, and I don’t mind his company. He’s a sweet dog. I’ve always wanted a dog, but never thought we could give it the time it would need. Right now, I have nothing but time.

I pick up a stick and swing it around like it’s a sword. Jethro barks and puts his front legs on the ground, his butt in the air, the epitome of, “play with me”. I laugh and swing the stick gently at him as if we’re sword fighting, and he jumps away with a bark.

“Alright, alright,” I laugh, before handing him the stick. He grabs it at the end instead of the middle and starts swinging it around like I did, though more chaotically. I blink and grab another stick, holding it toward him. He barks around the stick, the sound muffled, before he swings it toward my stick, clacking it together. “Clever boy!” I gush, pretending to parry him. “Ithink you’re not just Jethro. You must be Jethro, Prince of Barkness!”

He drops the stick and barks in agreement, so that’s that. Jethro has his LARPing name. He sword fights better than some orcs after one kind of lesson, so he’s earned that name.

As I’m kneeling down to gush about his skills, petting him, the sound of metal-on-metal rings out across the yard once, twice, three times, and continues. I look up curiously.

“What’s that, Jethro? Should we investigate?” I ask.

He wags his tail, so I take that to mean yes. I follow the sounds of the metal out to the large garage. I can still see the big house from here, but I haven’t ever come out to this building. I realize quickly why.

The large roller doors are up today so I can actually see inside. Trent is inside the large building, hammering a piece of metal on top of an anvil. I watch as he hits it repeatedly until he dips it in a bucket before going back over to a forge I never realized was in here. I blink in surprise as he sticks the metal in and turns to wipe his forehead against his arm. He never looks over where I stand. In fact, he turns his back to me and fusses with something on the table. Jethro leans against my thigh, watching with me. I never realized Trent was a blacksmith! I thought he was just the mechanic.

He grabs the metal stick out of the forge again and starts hammering once more. He lifts the hammer and pauses.

“You goin’ to just stare at me?” he asks without looking over.

I wince and step around the door I’d been hiding behind. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just curious.”

He picks up the metal he hammers a few times with tongs before dipping it into the bucket again and moving to the forge. He doesn’t respond to my words.

“Is this a forge?” I ask. I know it is, but I’m trying to open a line of conversation. I step further into the room and Jethro comes with me.

“No, it’s a pony show,” he grumbles, still refusing to look at me.

I frown. Point taken. I’m not welcome here. I don’t think he could be any clearer.

“Got it,” I murmur. “I just. . . I think it’s really cool you’re a blacksmith. I’ve always thought metalworking is a disappearing art. If you ever want company while you’re working in here, let me know.” I try to keep my voice even though I’m disappointed that I can’t watch him work. Still, I’m not someone who is going to curse another with my presence. He clearly wants to be alone, so I’ll take the hint and let him be.

I turn to leave, preparing to head back out into the yard.

“It’s hot,” he says.

I turn back. “What?”

“It’s hot. In here. You don’t want to keep me company when it’s so hot,” he grunts.

“I don’t mind the heat,” I offer. “I’m from Florida. This is hardly heat.”

Finally, he looks up at me, his eyes taking in my hot pink get up. I suddenly wish I’d worn something less flamboyant if only so he would take me a little more seriously. Whatever he sees, he must decide it’s not too bad. He gestures to the chair further away from the forge.

“You can stay,” he grunts.

I grin and quickly more over to the chair, taking a seat. Jethro sits at my side, watching Trent with his tongue lolling out. “What are you making?” I ask.

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