Page 37 of Brim Over Boot
And then I stop still.
The barn is filled with metal sculptures.Art. A western saddle sits on a narrow wooden pedestal, every inch of it crafted from various kinds and colors of metal, every detail precise. There’s a horse head, the eyes eerily lifelike, the mane flowing like waves over the side of its neck. Smaller pieces sit along tables. A bird with a seed in its mouth. A bundle of flowers. What looks like triangles perched precariously one over top of the other.
“What the fuck?” I mutter, taking it all in.
Noah whips around, practically jumping a foot in the air. “Colton?” he says in shock. “The hell are you doing here?”
His tone isn’t welcoming. If anything, there’s an edge of threat to it I should probably heed.
Instead, I step further into the barn and wave my hand through the air. “What is this?”
Noah doesn’t answer me. He turns back around, shutting off his forge before tugging his gloves off one at the time. The man is wearing a t-shirt, a fine layer of sweat covering his skin from the heat of the fire. He swipes his hair back and all but slaps his gloves onto the table in front of me. “Get the fuck out.”
“Did you…makethese? Holy shit, Noah, I—”
“Did you hear what I said?” he cuts in. “You’re not welcome here, little Colt.”
I suck in a breath, tension ratcheting my shoulders tight. “Jesus, why do you gotta be such a dick? I just…”
“You just what?” he asks, coming around the table toward me.
I hold my ground, even as I feel the urge to fight or flee pulling at my skin. “You know what? I just came here to talk. To settle some things. But you’re being all…” Struggling for the right word, I indicate the man before me. “You.”
“I thought we already settled things,” he says coolly, crossing his sizable arms. “Isn’t that what today was about?”
I bristle, the reminder of my loss far too fresh a wound to brush off. “You know what? Fuck you.”
Noah shakes his head, looking upward. “MyGod. Thank you so much for coming into my home and telling me to fuck off. So glad you’re here. You can be going now.”
“That’s not why…” I let out a snarl of frustration, taking a step closer, my very bones feeling as if they’re rattling. “Can you just…”
“Just what, Colt? What do you want from me?”
I don’t fucking know.
“If this is about the tattoo, I’m not going to make you—”
“It’s not about the tattoo,” I all but yell. “It’syou. It’s always fucking you.”
To my surprise, my hand makes contact with the man’s chest, shoving him back a step. His eyes darken, body tensing.
“Colt,” he says in warning.
“I want to know why you’re stuck in my head. In my life,” I growl, shoving the man again. “I want—”
Noah grabs my arm and spins me bodily into his workbench. I scramble to grab ahold of it, catching my weight, the wooden edge digging into my ass as Noah’s hand grips the front of my throat. He wedges his knee between my legs and drives it upwards, forcing me harder against the table.
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, voice dangerously low, his eyes dark in the limited light of the barn. “What do youwantfrom me, Colt?”
I pull in a shuddering breath, and Noah stills, his attention snapping downwards as—to my utter and profound mortification—my dick starts to swell.
Oh, fuck. Holy fuck.
Chapter 12
Noah
Ittakesmeaprolonged second to register what’s happening.
