Page 67 of Brim Over Boot
“You do,” I say firmly, taking a step closer. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m not ever going to force you, Colt. You’ve gotta know that. But sometimes I just wanna shake some goddamn sense into you.”
He moves his head back and forth slowly, as if at a loss.
I step closer. “Why do you try so hard to hate me?”
“I don’t have to try,” he says quietly. “I’ve always hated you.”
“Why? Because I was new to town? Because I was a threat to your business? To your standing here?”
He shakes his head again.
“I’m thirty-eight years old, Colt,” I say with a huff. “I’m tired of bickering like kids.”
“It’s…it’s always been personal with you,” he says, brow furrowed. “Don’t lie and tell me you haven’t hated me just as much. All the times you’ve tried to screw me over. All the ads in the paper and…and the horses you’ve stolen from my care.”
“Colton,” I nearly growl, shooting my arms wide. “We’re the only two goddamn farriers in town. It was never personal for me. It wasbusiness.Isbusiness. You really expect me not to advertise? Not to try my best? I never had the advantage of folks knowing my name. Not like you.”
“They know your name now,” he shoots back, him stepping closer now. “GoddamnKing. Well, you’re not mine, you hear? I don’t need you laughing at me from your throne—”
“When have Iever?”
“And I don’t needyou, period. Got it?”
“Then why the fuck is your hand wrapped up in my shirt, Colt? Why are you—”
His mouth slams against mine, bruising and filled with bite. “Shut up,” he growls. “Shut up, shut—”
He kisses me again, snarling as he presses me against a stall. Metal digs into my back, Colton’s hands tugging at my hair as he tries his damndest to convince me this is nothing but an attack.
“I don’t need you,” he says, biting at my lip, his leg driving between my own. “I don’t.”
I hear the words he’s not saying. The ones he maybe can’t.
I want you.
I wrap my hand in his hair, tugging his head back. His lips part, blue eyes staring at me. “You’re going to drive to my house tonight when it gets dark.”
“No.”
“And you’re gonna wait for me in the barn.”
“Fuck you,” he says, rubbing his crotch against me, his breath hot on my lips.
I grab his ass, stilling his movement, my hand in his hair tugging again. “You’ll come to me, little Colt. Don’t make me find you.”
“You wouldn’t,” he pants.
“I will,” I promise. “Do you believe me?”
He doesn’t say anything for the longest time, staring at me with a mixture of anger and longing. It’s the latter that allows me to let go. Colton stumbles back a step, and I straighten my shirt.
“Get to work, Colt. We both have a job to do.”
He stands in place for a minute longer, his breaths evening out, his stare on my back as I resume filing my horse’s hooves. Finally, Colton brings his first horse of the day out, not speaking a word to me. In fact, he doesn’t say another word for the rest of the morning or afternoon.
But more than once, I find him watching me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve.
Itakeashowerwhen I get home. Cook dinner and eat with Walt. We even play a game of chess before he retires to his room to read.
