Page 6 of Scrape the Barrel
“Pods?” Dad said it like he was trying the word out on his tongue.
“I thought the same thing,” I told him.
“Even I know what a coffee pod is,” Reed snided with an eye roll.
“I’m going to go set this up and see if I can figure it out,” I said. “I’ll be back out for my lesson in thirty minutes.”
They went back to their tasks, Dad heading inside the barn while Reed dug through his bag on the ground beside him. I headed inside the old farmhouse my parents had renovated, hoping that this machine would be easier to set up than it looked.
3
Sage
Iglanced at the clock, counting down the minutes until Gemma came in for the lunch hour so I could head home with Avery. As much as I disliked Gemma’s work ethic and attitude, I’d feel relieved when she walked through that door. After the morning rush had slowed down, I’d cleaned as best I could and made sure to wrap my finger after putting antibiotic ointment on the cut.
It stung, but it would heal.
The cowbell strung above the door sounded and I looked up to see Lennon Bronson walking in. The man was a tall glass of water with his dirty blonde hair and baseball cap, but we’d always just been friendly to each other. He was dating one of my favorite customers who also happened to be his employee at the feed store. He and Oakley were perfect for each other, whichmade my mind wander to wishing I’d find my perfect person one day, too.
The last man in my life was far from it.
“How’s your day, Sage?” Lennon asked, approaching the counter.
I sighed, my shoulders drooping a bit as I let my defenses drop. I didn’t have to be my usual fake, cheery self to him. He wasn’t just some random customer, he was a friend.
“Do you really want to know?” My mind grew exhausted just thinking of having to rehash the day's events.
He chuckled, flashing a half smile. “From the sound of it, guess I don’t.”
Avery strided through the back door, a drawing in her hand as her eyes landed on Lennon. “Mr. Bronson! Do you wanna see my horse?”
“Is that even a question? Of course, I do.” He leaned toward her as she stepped up on the stool behind the counter, setting her drawing on the metal surface.
“I don’t know what to name him,” she said.
He picked up the paper like he was deep in thought, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Hmm. What are our options?”
She pushed her dark brunette hair out of her face, the color courtesy of her dad. Mine was more of an ash brown.
“Sparkle, Boots, and Pigeon,” she listed with confidence.
He arched a brow at the last one, peering over the top of the paper at her. “Pigeon?”
She nodded. “I think Boots is my favorite, though.”
He set the paper back down in front of her. “Boots it is.”
“Okay!” She pulled her pink colored pencil out of her pocket, doing her best to write the name on the paper above the brown horse. “Mama, how do you spell Boots?”
I pulled out my notepad and pen from the front of my apron, writing the word down as I said each letter out loud, then handed it to her.
“You ever get around to bringing her to the ranch?” Lennon asked me, as Avery spelled the word out loud to herself while she wrote it.
“To the ranch?” I asked.
“For those riding lessons I told you about a few months ago. My brother would be more than willing to teach her to ride.”
I glanced down at the drawing as Avery slashed the “t,” gnawing on my bottom lip. Amidst the chaos of raising a five-year-old on my own, I’d completely forgotten about his offer. She’d been begging me for a horse when Lennon offered for her to come ride at the ranch. Avery was obsessed with horses and would have a blast, but it’d be hard to find time in our schedule. At least with school being out, it was manageable, but I didn’t want to deflate her once summer ended if the lessons slowed down.
