Page 6 of In the Dust

So much for not kicking up settled dust.

“Thanks.”

He leans against the countertop, still holding his mug, his intoxicatingly blue eyes locking on to mine. “Anytime, Dixie May.”

* * *

After my shortencounter with Colt, I couldn’t return to my room fast enough. Sitting on the bed, I pull the blanket over my legs and run my fingertips over the intricate stitching.

It’s just my luck that he works here and no one thought to tell me. Especially after everything.

A knock at the door interrupts my wandering thoughts. “Colton, I swear—”

“Is that any way to greet your old man, Dixie Norwood?” a gruff voice from the other side of the door answers.

My head snaps up; I’d know that deep voice anywhere. I quickly stride over to the door and open it. My eyes land on a tall man with a dark five o’clock shadow.

“Hey, Dad.” I smile.

“What are you waiting for? The cows to come home?” he chuckles. “Give me a hug, kiddo.”

I fling my arms around his waist, taking in his fresh, woodsy scent. “I’ve missed you.”

Dad and Grandpa come to New York to spend some time with me during the holidays. They never stay too long with a farm to run and all, and I’ve missed them so much.

He steps into the dimly lit room, and we walk over to my bed to sit down. He looks so tired, like he could just dip his head back and fall asleep at any moment. “I wanted to stop in and see if Grandpa or … Colt had explained the day's chores?” He’s staring down at his hands, rubbing them together nervously.

“I haven’t seen Gramps yet.” I roll my eyes. “I did, however, see Colton. But he didn’t have anything useful to say. So, why haven’t you told me he works here?”

His eyes dart to mine. “We’ll discuss that later, Dixie. I have my reasons.” He lets out a long sigh. “It’s getting late, and we need to get started on moving the cattle. I’ve already fed the horses; they should be ready for us to ride out. Colt will prepare a horse for you.”

“Dad, I am perfectly capable of saddling a horse.”

He stands up, stretching his limbs. “It’s been a while … just meet us in the barn in twenty minutes, Dixie.” I stare at him blankly as he reaches for the handle.Dad adds, “Don’t forget to feed the chickens on your way to the barn, sweetheart. I’m really glad you’ll be home this summer.” He smiles over his shoulder at me as he exits the room. I don’t have the heart to tell him I was planning on only staying for the week, but from the looks of how tired he is, I need to plan for all summer.

Letting out an irritated sigh, I walk towards the bathroom in need of a quick rinse.

I strip naked, throwing my dirty clothes into the tan wicker basket that sits next to the sink. Behind me is one of my favorite places to wind down after a long day on the farm, a freestanding cast iron tub with black claws that sit against the hardwood floor. I’ll take a bath over a shower any day.

I know I’m about to get dirty, but I need to wash the city off me.

I turn on the faucet, feeling the water with my fingers. As I'm waiting for the temperature to rise to epic heights, I unload my shower bag onto the counter. The thought of staying here all summer settles into my mind; just being here still doesn't feel real.

I know I need to be rushing to get down to the barn, but this is all a little heavy for me. I didn’t in a million years think I would be working with Colton this summer. I just need to take a few minutes for me.

Steam fills the room as I sink into the tub. I lean back and let the hot water envelope me, flowing over my shoulders as I dip farther in.

I lather a lavender scented bar of soap I paid way too much for at a farmers’ market back in New York. I always went because it reminded me of home, but it was full of overpriced items and lacked that sense of community that you get in places like Willow Creek.

My dad and grandpa go every Friday, rain or shine. It was always our thing, and then Momma … I sink under the water, rinsing the conditioner out of my hair before getting out.

I don’t bother drying my hair. June in Georgia is warm, especially working on the farm. Plus, I love the way my hair makes beach waves when it air-dries.

There aren’t many things I love about my body, but my hair is my favorite thing. I look closer in the mirror, willing myself to love my most hated attribute, but it never fails to make me look away from my reflection. It’s a birthmark, smack dab above my left eyebrow.

I’m going to sweat it off, but I can’t help myself as I cover it with concealer. Next, I head to the closet, hoping what’s left still fits. Since moving to the city and growing a little older, I’ve gained hips and curves.

I pull the accordion doors of my closet open, and a sense of nostalgia overwhelms me. I run my fingers across the tops of the hangers, remembering the wild nights I would sneak out and meet him in the middle.

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