Memories flood me. The way he’d run hand through his hair when he was thinking, how his shoulders would shake when he laughed, the clean scent of soap and leather that clung to him. Some days I’d pretend to drop my pencil just to have an excuse to see him turn around when he picked it up for me.
Brooke nods. “I get that. I sat behind Frederick Lemon, and the way his secret shoulder tattoo peeked out of his football uniform on game days made me want to become a cheerleader. I couldn’t even do a cartwheel, but I tried out anyway.” We both laugh. “So how does a high school crush translate to beating the crap out of stuff?”
I tell her about the dream, keeping it PG since he’s her brother, and the way my stomach fluttered at seeing him today.
“You’d make a great sister-in-law. Oooh! I could be an aunt to your cute little blonde babies!”
“Uh, never going to happen.”
“Why not? He’s not dating anyone. Being a professional cowboy wasn’t conducive to settling down. He’s here now, for good.”
A sizzling platter passes our table, the scent of charred peppers and onions momentarily drowning out our conversation. I trace my finger along the condensation on my glass, watching the lime wedge bob in the icy mocktail.
“It would be too weird. Besides, I don’t want it to get in the way of our friendship.” Sure, the thought of Colt dating someone else makes my chest tight. But I’ve worked too hard for the life I have to give in to an old crush.
“We’re solid, Hallie.” She leans forward, her voice dropping beneath the mariachi music playing overhead. “Unless you cheated on him, which you would never do. Then I’d have to shun you.”
We change the subject to other things and eat our lunch. By the time the server brings our checks, we are happy and very full. As we hand over our credit cards, Brooke’s eyes pop wide.
“Red alert in three.”
Oh, fuuddge.
“Hi, ladies.” Liz Beck approaches the table in a head-to-toe Lululemon ensemble, pristine-white yoga pants and jacket with not a drop of salsa in sight. Her curly blonde hair is in a perfect ponytail, her long nails manicured in holiday red. “How fun, enjoying an extra basket of chips. Isn’t it funny how four chips is the equivalent to a whole tortilla? Wonder how many there are in one basket?”
I smile at Liz’s fit self, willing myself not to engage. She works at her figure, and good for her. But fat-shaming us? So we have curves. So we love food. She could stand to eat a basket of chips in my opinion.
“Want one?” I hold out the basket, a fake smile stretched across my face.
Ignoring me, she addresses Brooke. “I heard Colt is back in town.”
Ugh. My hands clench on my lap, nails biting into my palms as the real motive for her stopping at our table reveals itself.
Liz leans against our table like she owns it, her perfectly manicured nails drumming a proprietary rhythm on the wood. “Sure hope he signs up for the bachelor auction. He and Gentrywould give all the single ladies of Stone Ridge a reason to open their wallets. I’ve been saving up all year.” Her eyes flick to me before settling on Brooke. “Wonder how much money Gentry will bring in? Nice to see you both.” The plastic smile on her perfectly made-up face doesn’t quite reach her mouth.
We watch in silence as Liz struts away, the white trim of her animal print sneakers somehow spotless. She stops at a table near the door, flipping her hair and laughing loudly at something one of the patrons says.
Brooke lets out a heavy sigh. “What a mean woman.”
“Are we at all surprised?”
“Nope.” She leans back against the booth, arms crossed. “Things just got very interesting.”
She can say that again.
Chapter 3
Colt
Ikill the engine and stare out the window to the one place on earth I don’t want to be. It’s like the universe is conspiring against me today. First, my horse. Now, this.
Earlier this morning, I’d stood in the pasture looking ridiculous with a carrot in my hand, trying to entice our pregnant mare. “Come on, girl. I won’t hurt you.”
Maisie, our champion blue roan, wanted nothing to do with me. Normally sweet as sugar, she’s been getting ornery the closer she gets to foaling. I used to ride her every time I came home from the circuit. Never gave me trouble.
Not anymore. She huffed and trotted far across the field, making me look like a rookie.
Joel, our ranch manager, shook his head. “Not gonna work, Colt. She may take an apple, but all she really wants right now are the cookies from The Kindly Crumb.”
