Page 27 of Brim Over Boot
He didn’t say as much. Didn’t even imply that kissing guys might be commonplace for him.
Surely I would’ve heard if that were the case, wouldn’t I? Secrets don’t keep in this town.
Not that any of it explains why he kissedme.
Fuck, I don’t know what to think. I’ve been trying not to, if I’m being honest with myself. I don’t want to think about Noah King or why that mauling behind The Barrel made me feel so…
I throw down my rasp with a little more force than necessary. The metal clangs against the other tools in my bag, and I wince, apologizing to both my tools and the horse I just finished shoeing. I untie her lead and walk her back into her stall before cleaning up my workspace.
I need to head back to Marie Doherty’s this afternoon, and there’s a good chance I’ll see Noah there. The new horses have arrived, and although I’m not in charge of them, one of the horses Iamin charge of started walking funny this morning. Marie asked—demanded, more like—for me to come check it over before bothering with a vet visit. Could be an easy fix.
I take my time, returning to the ranch for lunch first. Not because I’m avoiding Noah. Everybody’s gotta eat.
The dining room is bustling when I arrive. I find an empty chair and grab a roll before the platter can be picked clean. As I’m ladling homemade chicken noodle soup into my bowl, I catch part of a conversation a couple of the ranch hands are having.
“Hear the town is holding a treasure hunt this year?”
That was Colleen.
“You serious?” Marty asks.
Colleen nods. “It’s supposed to be some sort of fundraiser for the accessible playground the board approved. I guess you buy a ticket to enter and then follow the clues throughout town. Not sure what the prize is gonna be.”
Marty hums. “Maybe cash?”
“Or a crate of Darling Whiskey?” Colleen proposes.
“Heck, if that’s it, I’m definitely entering. How much are tickets?”
“Flyer said fifty bucks,” Colleen answers.
A nudge against my arm draws my attention away from talk of the treasure hunt. “Pass the butter?” my dad asks.
I hand it over and dig back into my soup, wondering if Noah might buy a ticket or if he’d think such a thing too childish and fun. I’mpositiveNoah doesn’t know the meaning of the word fun, stick in the mud that he is.
Ugh.
I wipe my thoughts of the man. Again.
As the ranchers head off to finish their day of work, I linger in the dining room. Ash gives me a pointed look as I start collecting silverware alongside him, figuring I might as well lend a hand. He doesn’t say anything. Not until he finds me at the sink, rinsing dishes.
“Okay, spit it out,” he demands, cocking a hip against the counter.
“Spit what out?”
“Whatever it is that has you cleaning after lunch when you know that’s my job.”
“What, a guy can’t help out around here?” I mutter.
Ash raises an eyebrow in a way that reminds me distinctly of my brother Jackson.
I groan and hastily dry my hands. An inquisition is the last thing I need right now. I wouldn’t even know what to say. “It’s nothing. I got work to do.”
I can feel Ash’s gaze following me out the doorway, but I pay it no mind.
When I arrive at Mrs. Doherty’s, a familiar blue pickup is parked out front. I curse a good dozen times, but it doesn’t stop me from grabbing my things and heading toward the stables attached to the arena. I gird myself as I walk through the doors, looking around, hoping if I spot the man, I can take a route to avoid him.
No such luck.
