Page 23 of Brim Over Boot
“This isn’t the first time you’ve suggested I take him back,” she says, a hint of curiosity in her tone.
I try not to groan. “He really is a damn fine farrier, Marie. I’ve seen some of his work firsthand. His craftsmanship is excellent, his attention to sole depth shows a keen understanding of equine husbandry as it relates to hoof care and posture, and I’ve never heard a single complaint about his handling.”
She mulls it over, her fingers tapping the railing in front of her.
“I appreciate that you’ve known me and my family for longer,” I go on. “And that you trust me with your horses. But you can trust me with this, too. I wouldn’t suggest pulling Noah in if I didn’t think he could more than handle it. You never had problems when he was here before, did you?”
“Suppose not,” she agrees. I wait, and, after a tense silence, Marie says, “I’ll give him a call.”
My breath whooshes out of me.
There. See?
I can be civil.
I can beniceto Noah King.
He’ll take these horses off my plate, and then I can wipe my hands of the arrogant farrier for good. Debt paid. No reason to see or even talk to him ever again. No reason to see his stupid face or wonder why he mauled my lips with his own.
Nope.
No reason at all.
Chapter 8
Noah
I’mnotdoingavery good job of ignoring my Colton problem.
I kissed the man.
On the mouth.
Looking back, I can honestly say I have no clue what I was thinking, except… Iwasn’tthinking. Only reacting. I wanted to shut Colton up. To rattle him. To wipe that look of frustrated animosity off his face and replace it with… I don’t know.
He hasn’t said a word about it. Not to me. Hasn’t sought me out. Hasn’t punched me or asked what the hell I was doing.
I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.
I finish raking the dead leaves and pine needles out behind the house into a neat pile. Next will be cleaning up the flower beds. It’s warm enough that I don’t need a jacket, yet the breeze keeps me from sweating under the sun.
“Gonna vacuum the woods when you’re done with that?” my uncle calls.
I squint against the sunlight, finding him standing at the back door. “What now?”
“You’ve been fussing. Finding excuses to keep busy for days. Wanna talk about it?”
Jesus.
I almost wish the man didn’t know me so well.
“Nothing to talk about,” I call back.
He lets out a loudharrumphjust as my phone starts to ring from inside my pocket. I pull it free as my uncle walks back into the house, my brows shooting up when I see the name onscreen. I quickly answer.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Doherty.”
“Noah,” she replies.
