Page 34 of Scrape the Barrel
I choked on the liquid, coughing to clear my throat. “No,” I croaked.
His lips pursed as his cheeks stained a light shade of pink. He wasdefinitelyblushing. I took another sip of water to clear my throat, but it did little to ease the nerves coursing through me right now.
“And I told you, you’re not fucking touching that horse,” Reed bit out at the end of the table, pulling my attention away from Callan.
“Reed, language. There’s small ears listening,” Charlotte lectured.
Brandy scoffed. “You can’t just tell me what to do.”
Reed muttered something under his breath, shooting daggers at Brandy. “How many times do you want to go over this?”
Brandy lifted her glass of wine, a catty grin pulling at her lips as she said, “As many times as I want, because I’m breaking that horse.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Lettie piped in softly as Brandy sipped her wine.
“No shit, Lettie,” Reed grumbled. “If she gets hurt, it’s on you.”
Bailey sat forward. “Hey, now. Don’t come at my girl.”
Beside me, Callan let out a sigh.
Lettie rolled her eyes as if Reed wasn’t her brother and she could handle him. “He’s always got a stick up his ass, Bailey. This is nothing new with him.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Brandy mumbled.
“What was that, Brandy Rose?” Reed asked calmly. It was almost more scary when he spoke in that tone. I’d seen a lot of sides to Reed when he occasionally stopped by Bell Buckle Brews, but never this.
“I don’t know. Maybe if you pulled that stick out, you could hear me,” she said sweetly.
Okay, the two of them speaking that way wasmuchmore scary.
Charlotte looked like she was about to pipe in again about the language when Avery blurted, “Does anyone know anything about cats?”
My lips parted slightly. I wasn’t sure where she was going with this—though I was thankful for the attention shift—but I definitely didn’t want her crying at this table over Pudding.
“I know Callan hates them,” Lennon supplied with a smirk.
“You do?” I asked Callan.
His eyes narrowed on Lennon slightly before answering me. “I don’thatethem.”
Lennon let out a small chuckle. “The last barn cat we had, you wouldn’t go anywhere near whatever barn it decided to stay in.”
“That thing was mean, and you know it,” Callan defended.
“It hissed at you one time,” Lettie pointed out.
“Never thought a man could be scared of a ten-pound animal when he works with beasts a hundred times their size,” Travis muttered, his gray mustache wiggling as he spoke.
Callan grimaced. “Listen, when you have giant fangs eye-level with you because you woke up a sleeping cat behind a bale of hay, you’d be scared, too.”
“Oh, please.” Lennon scoffed. “It was one time.”
“Anyway,” Avery interrupted, the sass clear in her tone, “my cat is missing.”
Oh, fuck. Please help me.
“Avery—” I started.
