Page 46 of Brim Over Boot
For a split second, I wonder if Colton misses working with her. But I dismiss the thought immediately.
Brownie’s muzzle rests against my shoulder as I finish rasping the outside of her final hoof, her breathing like a comfortable metronome in my ear.
“All set,” I tell her, letting her hoof down and standing upright.
Brownie hooks her head over my shoulder and tugs. I chuckle, stepping in close and rubbing along both sides of her body. The hug is welcome, and I let myself lean my weight against the sturdy mare, wishing everything in life was this easy and uncomplicated.
“If I had a horse, I’d want one just like you,” I tell her.
She ruffles a soft breath against my back.
After gathering some much-needed strength from the horse, I give her a final pat, clean up my things, and head up to the Brookes’ house. Even though my basket of goods is waiting on the porch, I still knock on the door, knowing Henrietta will want to say goodbye.
As expected, she gives me a smile as she steps out onto the porch in front of me. “Thanks again, Noah. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“I’m happy to be here,” I tell her honestly. “Six weeks again?”
“Please,” she says.
I give a nod as I pick up the wicker basket stuffed full of goat cheese, soap, and the fresh butter Henrietta promised. “If I don’t see you around town, I hope you have a good start to your spring.”
“Same to you,” she replies. “And say hello to your uncle for me.”
I tell her I will and leave the Brookes’ farm, heading toward Plum’s to grab a few things for dinner. I promised my uncle steak tonight if he agreed to eat a salad. He grumbled about it, but I won in the end.
Being that it’s Friday, the grocery store is suitably busy when I arrive, plenty of folks making their weekly runs or picking up something special for the weekend. I say hello to my neighbor as we pass one another in the produce section, amused that I see her more frequently here than I do on the road we share.
I’m just adding some early season tomatoes to my cart—which won’t taste nearly as good as the local ones we’ll get in a few months’ time—when I catch sight of a familiar face.
A familiar, scowling face.
Colton must have spotted me first, considering that patented scowl of his is already set in stone, the man’s blue eyes flinty beneath the brim of his hat, his hair curling around his nape in a way I find distracting. Any other day, I’d simply ignore the man. Just ignore him and head on my way.
Not today.
Maybe it’s because of what happened between us. Or maybe I’m sick of being Colton Darling’s target practice. Either way, I let my mouth curl into a smile I know is far from kind, and Colton’s eyes flicker. Surprise. Trepidation. Anger.
He doesn’t stop to talk to me, not that I thought he would. He storms silently past, a waft of his scent hitting me as he goes. Why I never noticed the way the man smells—or, maybe more appropriately, why Iamnoticing now—I try not to think about.
My eyes drop to Colton’s ass as he walks away. Can’t quite help it. There’s a simmer of…something in my gut. Something I’d half hoped was only a fluke.
Seems not.
I head up to the register to pay for my groceries, grateful to find a lane open without Jenna at the helm, which makes me feel guilty in turn. Jenna’s a perfectly nice person. Just a littletoonice at times.
I’m not really in the mood to deal withtoo niceright now.
As the last of my items are making their way from the conveyor belt into bags, someone steps into the lane behind me. Figures. Colton, upon seeing me, spins right back around and walks away. I bark a laugh.
“Something funny?” the employee at the register—Margie—asks as she bags my tomatoes.
I shake my head, giving her a smile. “Nah. Nothing at all.”
Colton’s black truck is nowhere to be seen when I get out to the parking lot. Probably for the best.
Definitelyfor the best.
Once I arrive home, I find my uncle in the kitchen, doing the crossword on the tablet I got him a couple years ago. He doesn’t look up to say, “Get the steak?”
