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Instinctively, I went to put a few in my mouth to hold until I needed the next one.
“No,” she said, placing her hand on my forearm. I peered down at her hold then back up at her slowly. “That’s not a good idea.”
She held out her hand and I dropped the nails in her palm.
“Why?” I asked, staring again at her hand.
“Because,” she breathed quietly, “horses’ hooves have a lot of bacteria. Pop Pop never lets us put the nails in our mouths.”
I nodded and watched her beautiful hand slide back down and finished shoeing the horse, dropping the foot back down.
“Now come here,” she said, leading me toward the front of the horse and bent down. I followed her lead and she inspected the final shoe, giving her approval with that clever smile and a thumbs up.
“Good,” she said, standing.
“Thanks.”
She finished the rest in half the time, but I didn’t care. I enjoyed the hell out of watching how beautifully she worked without thinking. It was so second nature to her. She didn’t notice that I was staring and I followed her every move, from the elegant swing of the hammer, how easily she cinched the nails and filed them down, the way her hands smoothed their way down the hoof to check her own work, down to the way her hair swung over her cheek.
When she was done, she let the hoof fall and stood, stretching her back and flipping her hair out of her face. She always gave the horses she shoed an apple for their troubles and would secret lovely things into their ears. She was so unbelievably attractive.
She clicked her tongue and led the horse out and toward its stall. I followed closely, memorizing the way her hips swayed. Inside, I kept the gate open just long enough to let Eugie in and closed it, letting the metallic clang break the silence.
Refusing to look at her, I gripped the top of the gate and grasped the wood so forcefully, I could feel tiny splinters break skin.
“Where?” I asked her.
She sighed. “I can’t say.”
My hands fisted and I slammed them on top of the gate, making my hair slide into my face. “Damn it, Cricket, it’s eating me up inside.”
“Stop,” she said. I could feel she was on the verge of tears.
I faced her and ran my fingers through my hair, holding it back and sagged against the stall door. “I don’t think I can take this anymore,” I admitted.
“Spencer, I can’t,” she began, sounding exhausted.
“No. No, Cricket, I can’t. I’m the one who can’t take it anymore. You’re so confusing to me. One minute it feels apparent that you’re at least attracted to me, the next, you’re chillingly distant, afraid to even come near me, especially when Ethan’s around.”
“Don’t bring Ethan into this,” she said, sliding down to sit in the hay next to Eugie. She rubbed the back of her neck in attempt to rid herself of our already wearying day. I knew I wasn’t helping, that she and her family were stressed beyond belief, but I was miserable, more miserable than I had ever been in my entire life, and I was ready to bust the thing between us wide open. I was tired of pining, tired of feeling like she wanted me but not doing anything about it.
“Why not bring Ethan into this?” I asked.
“Because he’s an incredible guy.”
The jealousy burned deep with her answer. “There’s no doubt he’s a great guy,” I admitted bitterly, “but he’s not your great guy, Cricket. He’s not your fate, Cricket.”
She crossed her legs in front of her and tucked her hands between her thighs, resting her head against the wall and peered at the ceiling. “There’s no such thing as fate, Spencer.”
“Like hell there isn’t!” I exclaimed emphatically. “I can recognize fate when I see it...unlike you,” I said, breathing the last part.
She lowered her head and looked straight at me. “What are you saying?” she asked recklessly, unlike her usual very carefully planned statements to me.
I stood at my full height. “Are we doing this?” I challenged, my hands on my hips.
She stayed silent but eventually said, “Yes.”
The butterflies in my stomach attacked in multitude. I called her bluff but realized that I might not want to hear what she needed to say. “Why are you with Ethan?” I asked first.
