Page 18 of Brim Over Boot
“Jesus Christ, Colt. Leave me be.”
I turn toward my bike, but he follows after me. I spin again, not about to be caught unawares with this man at my back.
“I challenge you,” he says unprompted, his voice low.
“I’m sorry, what?” I say around a hoarse laugh. “What are we, Hamilton and Burr?”
“Not to a duel, jackass. I challenge you to a Shoein’.”
“Oh, Jesus. No.”
“No?”
“Do people even do that anymore?” I ask. “Gather in the town square to watch the local farriers go head to head in a friendly horseshoeing competition?”
“I don’t see why not,” he says easily.
“The last Shoein’ had to have been decades ago. No,” I repeat. “Not doing it.”
He works his jaw for a moment, shadows cutting a sharp line across his face. “You don’t think you’ll win.”
I laugh.Hard. Hard enough I have to clutch my knees as Colton stares at me with lethal venom in his gaze. “Oh, fuck you. I’d win.”
“Prove it.”
“Oh my God. What are we, twelve?”
“If you’re so sure you can beat me,” Colton says slowly, taking a step forward, “then prove it. But ifIbeat you…”
Suddenly, my pulse is hammering so heavily I can barely hear my own breath. “What? I give you my clients?”
“No,” he says at once. I ease out a breath, even though I’m not doing it. I’m not accepting Colton’s…challenge. Finally, he proposes, “Bragging rights.”
I shake my head, but Colton takes another step forward.
“C’mon, King. Where’s the cocky assurance now? What happened to‘King Farrier Service, best in town,’huh? Why don’t you back up that claim already?”
I grit my teeth at Colton’s mention of one of my many newspaper ads. “I’m not fighting you, Colt.”
He scoffs. “It’s a friendly competition. No fighting involved.”
Right. Friendly.
“WhenIwin,” I say, hardly able to believe the words coming out of my mouth, “I want something else. Something more than bragging rights.”
Colton waves his hand in the air as if to saygo on.
My grin is a slow thing. “I want my name tattooed on your ass.”
His eyes widen, and he sputters, “No way.”
“Afraid you’ll lose?”
“No. Way,” he says again, the meaning entirely different.
I shrug. “Your choice. Those are my terms. Winner gets proof they’re the best farrier. Loser gets some fresh ink.”
Colton makes a sound of superb frustration, and I nearly laugh.
