Page 26 of Brim Over Boot
Colton doesn’t offer one now, and I walk away.
Unbelievable.
Of all the people in this town to be at odds with, it has to be the one—theonlyone—who’s a direct threat to my livelihood. I can’t get away from it. Fromhim.
Why does he have to be so goddamn—
I come up short, registering someone standing beside my bike.
“Pretty,” the man I recognize as Hank Darling says. Colton’s father.
I give him a nod. “Thanks, sir.”
He snorts. “Sir. Just Hank is fine. You know, my son has never been the best at turning his feelings into words.”
I don’t say a word myself, not sure what he’s getting at. He must have seen us talking, though, to know that’s why I’m here.
Or he simply assumed as much.
“I remember when Colton was, oh, ten or so,” he says, bending down to inspect my motorcycle. “He snuck an entire strawberry cream pie up into his room because he was afraid there wouldn’t be any left for him to eat. It was his birthday party, so his worry wasn’t unfounded considering all the guests. But…” Hank stands upright, rounding my bike to look at it from another angle. “Instead of asking me or his mom to make sure there was a piece set aside just for him, he hid the whole pie away and got so sick the next day from gorging himself, he hasn’t touched one since.”
I wince, something unwelcome, like sympathy, pinging around in my chest.
“My point is,” Hank says almost lazily, hands in his pockets as he rocks back on his heels, “Colton doesn’t handle his emotions in the most obvious of ways. He grew up with three brothers. And they all liked strawberry cream pie.”
“So, what?” I ask, keeping my tone as even as possible. “He learned to simply take what he wants?”
Like my clients.
Hank rolls his eyes. “Good Lord.No. My son,” he stresses, “is so used to putting others first that when there’s something he really wants, he doesn’t know how to ask for it. He’s scared if he does, he’ll end up without a piece at all.” With that, Mr. Darling pats my helmet, like a punctuation mark at the end of his story. “Evening, Noah.”
“Evening,” I mumble, watching the man walk off.
When I glance back at the house, I don’t see Colton. Not inside or out. The lights are still on, but there’s no movement beyond the windows.
I swing my leg over my bike and head down the gravel drive.
I could move a ways out of Darling and find plenty of work. Farriers are in high demand around these parts with so many ranches and farms claiming massive swaths of land. I could relocate elsewhere in Montana or even move back to Wyoming like my uncle suggested.
But there’s more than enough work here in Darling, too. And it’s myhome. It has been since the very moment Walter took me in. I’ve carved out a life for myself here. A good one. Yes, losing thirty horses in one sweep was a blow, but I have enough business to ensure Walter and I are comfortable. I’m doingfine. We’re doing fine.
The only hiccup in my otherwise peaceful life is Colton goddamn Darling.
I can’t give him the satisfaction of winning. I won’t leave. Won’t accept defeat.
Our war started long ago.
And fuck if I can’t see the end of it, no matter how hard I try.
Chapter 9
Colton
Ican’tbelieveIdidn’t think to question it before.
Is Noah King bi?
I hadn’t stopped to wonder, too caught up in my own reaction to that…kissto even consider Noah.
