Page 31 of Brim Over Boot
He snorts. “You know this is just for fun, right? No one takes these things all that seriously.”
Tell that to Colton Darling.
I glance back at the man, who’s bouncing on the soles of his feet now, looking as if he’s getting a pep talk from the entire Darling family. All of his brothers are here. His parents, too.
If I ever needed more proof of our differences, I’d only need set foot inside the Darling Ranch to see it for myself.
Before I can turn away, Remington meets my eye from across the park. He gives me a smile and a nod.
I nod back before checking in with my uncle. “Comfortable enough?”
“It’ll do,” he says, which is the best I can hope for.Comfortabledoesn’t come easy for him these days.
“This shouldn’t take long,” I assure him.
He chuckles. “Get me a bag of caramel corn?”
I nod and head off to find the vendor. I’m paying for the bag when I hear the last person I want to talk to right now. Or anytime, really.
“Ready to lose?” Colton asks, stepping up beside me.
I glance over at him. At the cocky assurance in his blue eyes and the rough stubble covering his jaw. Against my permission, my memory dredges up the feeling of that stubble against my lips, and I quickly avert my gaze, not needing the reminder of that mistake.
“The only thing I’ll be losing is the chance to book more ink,” I say, voice tight.
Colton scoffs. “Dream on, King.”
“Oh, I’m sure my dreams will be sweet tonight. I’ll have your defeated face to recall as I’m drifting off to sleep.”
“Look at that,” he says wryly. “You have a sense of humor after all. Who knew?”
I turn away before the impulse to smack the man becomes too strong to ignore.
“Judges need to go over the rules with us,” Colton says before I can get far.
“Be there in a minute,” I grit out.
I hand off the caramel corn to my uncle and take a moment to collect myself. It’s not that I’m worried about losing this competition. I have it in the bag.
It’s the fact that Colton goddamn Darling has the singular ability to make me unreasonably angry anytime he opens his mouth. Hell, all he has to do is look at me, and I want to clock him.
I’m not a violent guy. Not usually.
Butfuck, he brings it out in me.
Once I’m fairly confident I won’t give the man a black eye, I head over to the judges’ table. Colton is already there, waiting. He gives me a smirk I ignore.
“Gentlemen,” Kamal Yadav says, a man in his sixties who’s been on the board as long as I can remember. Pretty sure he stopped by my uncle’s with a cranberry tart when I first got to town, although that time right after my parents passed is somewhat muddled in my mind. “I’ll be going over scoring so we’re all clear on the parameters of today’s competition.”
Colton and I both nod, and he goes on.
“Timeliness only accounts for a quarter of your total. So getting done first shouldn’t be your main objective. Another quarter goes to cleanliness and evenness of the trim. Another quarter to proper shoe shaping. And the final quarter for overall aesthetics. Got it?”
We nod again.
“We have two horses offered up by a local for today’s Shoein’. Neither horse has been worked on by either of you in the past, so we’re on neutral ground here. Both are five weeks from their last shod, so again, even turf. You remove their shoes. Trim and outfit them with a new set from the ready-made stock provided. Once you’re done, we’ll judge your work. Any questions?”
Colton meets my eye briefly before shaking his head. “Nope.”
