Page 79 of Brim Over Boot
“Wait… You expect me to ride with you on that horse?” he asks.
“Unless you feel like hanging here for the rest of the afternoon. Your choice.”
I finish cleaning Noah’s hand and apply some antiseptic. He hisses when I wrap a bandage around him tight enough to keep the wound clean.
“Fuuuck,” he groans, long and low. “One horse, Colton. You haveonehorse.”
“And?”
“You don’t see the problem here?”
“Clem can handle it,” I tell him assuredly, closing the first aid kit. I stick it back in the saddle bag, put my foot in the stirrup, and swing onto Clementine’s back. “Coming or what?”
“Jesus Christ,” Noah mumbles, heading my way. “I guess we’re—what? Working together?”
“Guess so,” I say, pulse hopping when Noah grabs hold of the saddle behind my hip, sticks his foot in the stirrup I vacated for him, and hauls himself up. He settles behind the saddle, since there’s no way the two of us can both fit in it. I try not to flush as his heat lines my back, able to convince myself it’s the Montana sun roasting me, not the man who, for whatever reason, calledmewhen he needed help.
That’s not something I’m going to examine.
“Gimme back my stirrup,” I tell him.
He makes a huffing noise and pulls his foot free. I slot mine back in and pull the reins to the left, getting Clementine turned around.
“I saw a box about a mile up ahead,” Noah says. “Pretty sure it’s the next clue.”
I nod, having noted the location on the clue I picked up on my way here.
We’re quiet for a while, Clementine at a brisk walking pace. I don’t dare put her into a trot with Noah riding what equates to bareback.
“What, uh, happened to your bike?” I ask.
“Spun out,” he says. “A tire blew. Rolled over metal, maybe? I couldn’t find anything.”
I hum, acutely aware of Noah’s legs brushing mine. Maybe he was right. This might not have been the best idea, after all.
Probably should have left the bastard behind.
“How’d you know her name is Daphne?” he asks. “You said it before. How’d you know?”
I squirm a little. “Must’ve heard you mention it.”
“Hm.”
“Where, uh, did the name come from?”
Noah is quiet for a second. “It was my mother’s middle name.”
Was.
“Sorry,” I say quietly, my chest tight.
I can feel Noah shrug, his hands resting on my thighs now. When the fuck did they get there?
“It was a long time ago,” he answers.
I nod, chewing my lip as we move along. I don’t know what to say. This is awkward as fuck.
Noah lets out a small breath, perhaps feeling the same. “My ass is gonna pay for this later.”
