Page 130 of Brim Over Boot
“Such a cheater,” he mutters, lips in a smile.
“It’s all right, King. I know losing is hard, but there’ll always be next year.”
He crosses his arms, doing his best not to look happy about that. I take the opportunity to appreciate the view. Massive biceps, honed muscles, colorful ink trailing down to his wrists. The horseshoe peeking out from the collar of his shirt. He’s wearing his favorite white hat today, but underneath is an artful mess of dark hair, the sides still shaved close in a way I refuse to find sexy. His belt buckle flashes, and his damn jeans mold to him like a well-worn-in glove. Full lips. Dark eyebrows. Eyes the color of flames flickering in a forge.
He’s smokin’. Undeniably.
But that’s not what has my pulse tripping in my chest every time I look at him. It’s the curve of his smile and how freely he offers it. It’s how I know what those arms can do. Toss me around a bit, sure. But hold me. Comfort me, when that’s not something that’s ever been easy for me to ask for. It’s how every flicker in his eyes tells me exactly what he sees when he looks at me.
Being coveted by a man like Noah King is potent, to say the least.
“All right, everyone,” Mr. Yadav calls, the judges returning to their table. “We’re ready to announce the results.”
Turns out, everybody loved the ribbons.
Noah groans when I win this year’s Shoein’, but he holds out his hand and gives me a hearty shake. I grin the entire time, basking in the congratulations from our families and the townsfolk who attended the event.
When we finally get home, Noah, Walter, and I enjoy a dinner of venison stew before Walter retires for the night. I watch him shuffle down the hall with a pinch in my gut.
“He has another appointment on Monday,” Noah reminds me, giving the back of my neck a squeeze. “He’ll be okay.”
“I know,” I mutter. Walter is strong. And his physiotherapy appointments have been a big help in managing his ongoing arthritis and scoliosis symptoms. But still. It’s not easy seeing the people we love hurt.
Noah tugs me close, pressing his lips to my temple as he breathes me in. “Such a tender heart,” he mutters, sounding fond.
“Am not,” I grumble, shoving at his stomach. I get a little distracted by the feel of his abs, so the push is halfhearted at best.
Noah huffs a gentle laugh. “It’s a good thing, Colt. Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, disentangling from my boyfriend to put the last of our dishes in the washer. “Let’s see the fam.”
Noah and I take Daphne over to the ranch. Having my arms wrapped around the man as he drives is certainly no hardship, and the motorcycle seats two far easier than a saddle.
It’s nearly dark by the time we arrive, parking outside Jackson and Ash’s home. Remi has free rein of the ranch house now, the only one of us who hasn’t yet moved out. My parents long ago relocated to their own individual cottages beside the main house, seeing as they’re divorced for reasons no one quite understands. Jackson had his house built on the property well before Ash came along. I moved out a couple years back to be closer to Noah, our home the one we share with Walter. And Lawson… Well, my oldest brother still lives in Darling, just not at the ranch any longer.
I think Remi will always live here. He doesn’t work the ranch in the same way as Jackson or the ranch hands do, but he’s responsible for the well-being of nearly every workhorse and petting farm animal here. I’m glad they have him.
And Remi knows he’ll always have me, too. I’m just a phone call away should he need me. Although, truth be told, I think I always needed him a little more than he ever needed me.
Funny the things we learn as we grow.
Like the fact that certain hated archnemeses aren’t our enemies at all. That they’re pretty great, in fact. And that love can be found in the most unexpected of places… If you’re willing to fight for it.
As Noah and I round Jackson’s house, the bonfire comes into view. It’s already roaring, a bottle of Darling Whiskey sitting beside Jackson’s Adirondack chair, Ash sipping from a tin cup while atop my brother’s lap. Remi is tossing twigs into the fire.
“No Lawson?” I call.
“On the way,” Remi says, picking up a bag of marshmallows and chucking it at my chest. I snag it with a grin.
Noah sits in the chair next to mine. It takes me a minute to realize everyone is being suspiciously quiet. The only sounds are the snaps and crackles of the fire.
I stop loading my stick with mallows and look around. “What is it?”
Jackson clears his throat, and Ash appears to be biting his tongue.
“What?” I repeat, looking to Remi next. “What’s going on?”
“Did you, uh…happen to see the paper today?” my younger brother asks.
