“Talk soon,” Opal promised before hanging up.
I squished my way through the rest of the mud, making it to the stable with a throbbing ankle. The air smelled of wet grass, horses, and hay. Octavia closed Kat’s stall right as I walked in. Sunlight glinted in through the open windows, setting her skin aglow. Her brow was damp with sweat and morning dew. She wiped it off with the back of her hand, the soft edge of her muscles pressing against her long sleeve. The outline of her shoulder blades trapped my gaze as I wondered about the level of strength they must possess.
“Morning.” Her dry greeting nudged me back into the here and now.
I blinked, cheeks aflame. But Octavia hadn’t seemed to notice. Or maybe she didn’t care. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”
“Great.” She didn’t make eye contact. Octavia’s quick movements around the stable held no hesitation. Her hands remained steady as she picked up a rake and started making piles of hay.
Her expression was as cold and hard as the day I mether. Last night’s happenings may as well have been a mirage. I suppose disbelief had its perks.
“Great,” I repeated, allowing uncertainty to mold my tone. I claimed a stool by the door to relieve the weight on my feet.
Octavia nodded in confirmation. She rested the rake down, moving on from the piles to retrieve a saddle and blanket draped over the stall door. It didn’t look like the floor cleaning job was complete, but what did I know? Octavia moved to a wooden bench, setting the saddle down and removing the blanket from underneath.
“Are those to hold you over?” Her eyes were trained on my already muddied boots as she passed by to toss the blanket in a bin. Her morning ride hadn’t stolen the hints of spicy soap and whatever oils she used to keep her locs soft. I shifted on the stool, finding solace in the smell I craved.
“Nope, these are the only boots I have.” I clicked my heels together. “They’re good boots.”
“They’re heels.”
“It’s a block heel,” I countered.
“How does that make it any better?”
“Eons better than a stiletto. I can run in them.”
She raised a brow as I mimed running.
“When my ankle gets better, of course,” I added. “We can race and I’ll show you they’re as capable as they are stylish.”
The sides of Octavia’s mouth twitched, but she didn’t give the smile clearance. “I’ll hold you to it.”
She grabbed a toolbox and a box of nails. There were loose planks of wood in front of one of the empty stalls. Octavia set the toolbox down, grabbed a hammer, and went pounding the nails into the wood.
I frowned, gaze jumping from the hay to the unwashed blanket and her long fingers wrapped around a nail.
“I know it’s early and you’re busy.” I stood up, planning on getting closer, but her narrowed gaze gave me pause.
“You should chill out on that ankle,” she chided. “And go into town later to get proper footwear.”
“Sure, that’s an option.” I continued forward, careful not to limp. “In the meantime, let’s talk. Process things.”
“There’s nothing to process.” Octavia turned her back on me and resumed hammering.
I leaned against Kat’s stall, and she peeked her head out, offering it for me to pet. She exhaled a hot breath onto my cheek when I made contact.
“Well, I have plenty.” I scratched Kat’s forehead. “How about you help me out?”
Octavia’s jaw stiffened. She dropped her hammer to the ground and went to an industrial sink full of brushes. The faucet spat out steaming water, and Octavia poured dish soap onto the brushes, scrubbing them together. As the clouds of steam rose, the scrubbing became more intense.
“I want to start with an apology.” I gave Kat a final pat before moving closer to the sink. Octavia didn’t move. I could barely detect the rise and fall of her chest.
“Last night shouldn’t have ended like that.”
“Like you reading me to sleep?” She raised a brow, glancing my way.
“Yeah. See, I prefer to offer bedtime stories after the third date.”
