Page 30 of Brim Over Boot
I clear my throat. “The Shoein’.”
Noah sighs heavily, but he doesn’t look my way. “You issued the challenge. Name a time.”
My heart is racing again, and I’m not quite sure why. I know I’ll win.
“Next weekend,” I tell him.
“Fine.”
“It’s customary to put an advert in the paper. So folks can attend.”
He shakes his head slightly. “Fine.”
“Fine?” I ask, his easy acquiescence seeming too…easy.
“Fine,” he says again, pointedly.
For a moment, the only sound is the soft scrape of his hoof knife.
“You just gonna stand there and stare at my ass?” Noah asks. “Or do you actually have work to get back to?”
I huff, backpedaling to grab my supplies off the ground. “I wasn’t staring at your ass,” I bite out, heading past the man. “I don’tlikeyour ass.”
“Mhm.”
“Fucking dick,” I mutter, heading through the door.
If Noah utters a reply, I don’t hear it.
It’s only once I’m safely within the confines of my truck that a thought strikes…
Did hewantme to be staring at his ass?
Fucking Noah King.
I turn the ignition and get the hell away from the man, not once looking back.
Chapter 10
Noah
Ican’tbelieveIagreed to this.
Colton is standing not far off, talking to one of the judges that was pulled together for the town’s first Shoein’ in over twenty-six years. According to custom, five judges have been assigned from the board after Colton notified them of the…friendlycompetition we agreed to and got permission to hold the event in the town center. Also custom.
And the judges aren’t the only ones here.
It looks as if half of Darling showed up for this spectacle, many having brought camp chairs, others set up on picnic blankets or sitting in the grass. Someone apparently got a permit to sell popcorn because bags of it are making the rounds. Salted popcorn, caramel corn, even flavors like apple pie and peanut brittle.
Why thefuckdid I agree to this?
My uncle looks more amused than anything as I help him into his own foldable chair that we brought from home. “Big crowd,” he comments, shifting to adjust his position.
I grunt my acknowledgement.
“Nervous?” he asks.
“Please.”
