Page 28 of Spur of the Moment
“I had it handled.”
“Sure looked like it.”
I pursed my lips together and turned on my heel, but before I could walk away, he grabbed my elbow again. “I’m sorry. I just, I saw that look on your face and-”
“I don’t need saving.” I whirled on him, but he didn’t flinch.
“I’m just looking out for you, Lettie.”
My fingers dug into my arms as I stared at him. “Well, I don’t need that, either.”
He dropped his hand, pulling his hat off and running a hand through his hair. “It’s hard not to overstep around you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He set the cowboy hat back on his head, then grabbed the fence beside him. “It means my whole life, I’ve watched you whither under your brothers’ concern for you. I’ve seen the way you tense when you think someone sees something wrong, or the look on your face when your parents tell you that you can’t do some reckless shit they wouldn’t think twice about letting your brothers do. I’ve had to tiptoe around my feelings for you since we were kids. Every time I worry about you, I have to hide it, Lettie, and even more so since you got back, because I’m scared that if you see it written on my face, you’ll disappear again.”
I dropped my hands to my sides, gnawing on the inside of my cheek. He was right. He was the only one who didn’t try to shelter me, and he paid the most for it when I left. It wasn’t fair to him.
“I’m sorry.” All I could do was apologize.
He looked down at his boots, dropping his hand from the fence. “You don’t have to be sorry.”
“I am, Bailey. I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t care about me.”
He looked back up at me, his green eyes full of emotions he’d been holding captive since I got back. But I knew he wouldn’t voice them because of the fear I had instilled in him. This was the same way he’d looked at me when I’d made the decision to leave and not say a word.
“Even if you push me away, Lettie, I’ll always care about you.”
“I know.” And he’d proved that the moment he’d caught me from falling off that ladder.
He visibly swallowed and his expression changed in a flash, a slight smile spreading on his face. “Let’s go save some horses.”
I gave a closed-lip smile, thankful he didn’t push the subject further.
15
Bailey
“Tag twenty-seven, six-year-old quarter horse, sorrel gelding.” The auctioneer’s voice echoed through the building as a cowboy about my age mounted the horse. He looked sound from where I sat, his body toned from years of work. The guy trotted the horse in the small space, then stopped him to back him up. The horse obeyed with no problems, the price on him going up with each fancy maneuver.
Minutes later, the horse was led out of the building. He sold for forty-six hundred dollars to a family in the corner. Their little boy beamed as he jumped from his seat, eager to see his new horse in the back. Another horse was shooed into the ring, this one with no tack.
“Tag twenty-eight, three-year-old quarter horse, gray gelding.”
Beside me, Lettie leaned forward, planting her hands on her knees as the horse trotted around the enclosed area, tail sticking straight out, his movements frantic. I glanced between her and the horse in the pit as the crowd began their bidding, the auctioneer rattling off numbers.
After a few back and forths, the highest bid landed on two hundred. “Two hundred going once,” the auctioneer boomed over the mic.
Lettie gnawed on her bottom lip as her grip on her knees tightened.
“Two hundred going twice.”
I watched her arm flex right before she threw it up in the air. The auctioneer added one hundred dollars to the bid.Thiswas exactly why her dad didn’t let her go to the auctions. She was just like her mom. I stayed quiet, knowing if I fought her on it, it’d only piss her off. She could be the one to explain this extra horse to her dad, not me.
The man across the way kept his hand down, not upping the bid any higher. He sat back on his bench, ready for the next horse to come in. While it wasn’t always the case, low bidders typically indicated they were kill buyers. From the looks of this guy, I didn’t doubt it.
Before I knew it, the auctioneer was shouting “Sold!” and the horse was being ushered out the back by a man swinging a lead rope behind him. The horse galloped out the door and disappeared. I leaned forward to look at Lettie’s face and found a massive grin plastered on her mouth.
