Page 95 of Scrape the Barrel
She shook her head. “I’m okay staying.”
“Alright, well, if you change your mind, I won’t mind.”
I headed for the door, but paused with my hand resting on it when Gemma said my name. I looked back at her.
“I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused you. It wasn’t my intention,” she said.
“It’s been no trouble at all, Gemma. It’s okay.”
She gave a closed-lip smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
Maybe not today, but someday, we’d be okay.
Pain couldn’t be the forefront of what we felt forever.
There was more to this life than that. It had just taken me longer than I would have liked to figure that out.
31
Sage
The combination of tart orange juice played on my tongue with the bubbly pops of champagne. It’d been a long time since I had a mimosa, and I was clearly missing out.
“I’m telling you, that horse is out of his mind,” Brandy said after a sip of her own mimosa.
“You don’t have to keep trying,” Lettie replied as the waitress set the basket of fried pickles down in the middle of the table.
“Do some horses just not want to be ridden?” Oakley asked. She and I were on the same wavelength with the limited horse knowledge.
“Can we get another round of mimosas?” Brandy asked the waitress, who nodded in response, then replied to Oakley. “Some horses are straight assholes, and Lettie seems to pick the best of them.”
They’d invited me to a boozy brunch, and I’d almost said no, but Charlotte had popped up out of nowhere when Lettie was asking me at the ranch, offering to watch Avery so I could have a few hours with the girls.
“I like to pride myself with my choices,” Lettie retorted.
Brandy downed the last of her mimosa. “I wouldn’t get too cocky like that.”
“I can try to do it myself,” Lettie offered.
Brandy shook her head. “I’ll figure it out.”
Lettie snagged a fried pickle. “He had a bad past.”
“Clearly. It took me weeks to finally get a halter on him after I took the last one off.” Brandy set her glass down at the edge of the table for an easier reach when the waitress came back.
“That was your mistake,” Lettie said.
Brandy arched a brow. “Are you telling the horse trainer how to train horses?”
Lettie shrugged. “You should let me help you.”
A scoff sounded as Brandy picked up her own fried pickle. “And have your brother and Bailey on my ass? No, thanks. I’ve got it. He just needs more time to warm up, is all.”
Lettie nodded as she chewed, all of us digging into the basket. The waitress came back with the mimosas and I finished my other one off to hand her the empty glass. We were on drink number three, but Oakley was going slower than the rest of usbecause she was our designated driver. She was only allowing herself to have one on top of some food with it.
“So, Sage,” Lettie started.
I finished my bite. “Hmm?”
