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George leaned on the paddock as King trotted in a wide circle. A young woman dressed in a floral print dress was damn near bent over the paddock a few feet away from George, her curly blonde hair billowing in the wind.
Pete, the owner of Cray’s Bar & Grill, was standing next to George with a somewhat sour look on his face.
“Keeley, get off the railing before you fall over,” he said firmly. The young woman, Keeley, gave Pete a sour look in return and climbed down, her cowboy boots caked in dust.
This must be the little sister of Pete’s. George had been talking incessantly about for the past week.
“What’re you doing out here, Pete?” I asked as I approached the paddock. The sun was setting, and the rest of the farmhands were busy getting the horses back into the stable.
“Came up to see this guy,” Pete said, pointing to King, who was showing off for Keeley as she darted back and forth along the railing, enthusiastically egging him on. “Keeley wanted to see him.”
“He’s beautiful,” Keeley beamed, showing off her straight, white teeth. She looked a lot like Pete. The same heart-shaped face, the same hazel eyes fanned by pale blonde lashes. She had the same dusty blonde curls, too.
“You must be Pete’s sister,” I said, extending my hand in greeting. She took it, shaking my hand enthusiastically.
“Unfortunately, yes.” She laughed, shooting Pete an annoyed look. Pete only rolled his eyes, and Keeley darted away, King following her to the other side of the paddock.
“I didn’t realize you had such a young sister,” I said to Pete.
“She’s not that young,” George cut in, then shut his mouth, looking down at the callouses on his hands. I noticed his cheeks coloring, but Pete sure as hell didn’t.
“She’s thirty-two, believe it or not. She’s a kindergarten teacher in Bozeman which… aligns with her personality.”
“You’re sure she’s thirty-two?” I said with a laugh, peering at the woman as she reached into the paddock to give King a scratch. I glanced at George, noticing the way his eyes followed her every move as she walked along the far side of the paddock.
“She is,” Pete breathed, shaking his head. “She’s just visiting for the summer, says she’s gonna help me out at the bar but so far all she does is distract all the patrons.”
George’s hands curled over the paddock railing, a sudden heat flaring behind his eyes. I almost asked if he was all right but then thought better of it.
Pete was funny, kind, and loyal.
But he was also a fucking dickhead if provoked, and it didn’t take much to set him off.
“How’re thing’s going here?” Pete asked, turning away from the paddock and resting the toe of his boot on the railing.
“Fine, all things considered,” I replied lazily, not wanting to get into the nitty gritty details.
“I met that consultant you hired, you know. What’s her name again?”
“Moira,” I replied slowly, peering at Pete from under the rim of my hat. “Where’d you see her?”
“Grocery store,” he said, sounding a little bored, but he flashed me a sly, boyish smile, nonetheless. “Legs on that one…damn. I can’t imagine you get much work done with her around.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I admitted.
George chuckled at that, giving me a look before he set his sights back on Keeley under the guise of keeping an eye on King.
“What’s her story, then? She was with a kid. Her younger brother, or something? She a local?”
“Do you want her social security number, too?”
Pete pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing on mine.
He raised his hands in a show of surrender and turned back to the paddock, clicking his tongue.
“One day someone’s gonna catch your eye, Pete. But it sure as hell isn’t going to be Moira,” George said hoarsely, straightening up a bit as King sauntered back over to where Keeley was standing. “Grant called dibs on her the second she drove like a bat out of hell into his driveway.”
