Chapter 5
Colton
“Morning, Louise.”
My mother’s closest friend and owner of the sandwich shop in town raises an eyebrow and pointedly eyes the clock. “It’s afternoon, hon.”
“Afternoon, then,” I quickly amend. “Can I get a roast beef panini, please?”
She hums, ringing me up before turning around to prepare my sandwich. I tap my card against the reader.
“Hey, Louise?”
“Yes?”
“You know, uh…” I look around and lower my voice, even though there are only a couple other customers inside the shop, eating their sandwiches. “Noah King?”
Louise pauses to look at me, and I silently curse. The woman is a gossip hound, and I think I just tossed her a morsel.
“I sure do,” she says, layering cheese over the roast beef on my sandwich. “What about him?”
I lower my voice further and lean across the countertop. “He doesn’t have, like, kids or something, does he?”
That eyebrow goes up again. “He does not. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” I say hastily. “Just curious.”
Louise hums, putting my sandwich in the panini press. “Saw some of your demo at the Blossom Bash last weekend.”
“Oh yeah?”
“So did Noah King.”
I freeze, my gut nosediving in a way that has me wanting to grunt. I manage to keep the sound to myself. “Uh. Yeah?”
“Mhm. It was real good, your demonstration. You’re a natural with those kids.”
“Oh, uh…thanks,” I reply.
Noah was watching me? Why?
Probably sizing up the competition .
I scowl.
“Here you are,” Louise says, handing me my wrapped and bagged panini. “Enjoy your lunch.”
“I will. Thanks.”
I eat my sandwich on the drive back to the ranch, only managing to drip sauce once. I don’t bother stopping inside the main house after I park. I just lug my things over to the horse barn. Remi, unsurprisingly, is inside, mucking stalls.
I flick the lights to announce my presence, and his sandy-brown head pops up. He looks in the opposite direction before locating me and pressing the button to turn his processor on.
“Hey,” he says, glancing down at the bag in my hand as I head toward Clementine’s stall. “You here to work?”
“Sure am,” I tell him. “It’s time to shoe my most favorite girl in the entire world.”
Remi rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face as he goes back to raking horse shit and damp hay.
“Hey, girl,” I coo to Clementine, opening her stall door. My horse greets me with an enthusiastic headbutt to my chest, nearly knocking me right out of the stall again. I snort, giving her plenty of good scratches as her nose comes up to huff against my face. She nips the brim of my hat between her teeth, tugging it off my head. “Hey, now. That’s new.”
Clementine doesn’t protest as I take the hat back, setting it outside the stall. I give her a little wave forward, and she follows me out the door and into the hallway, where there’s more space to work.
“Ready for some new shoes?” I ask her.
She doesn’t answer with words, of course, but I see her eyeing the mini-fridge in the corner of the barn. I head that way, retrieving a carrot that I bring back for her. She snaps it up and crunches happily.
“Hey, Remi?” I ask loudly.
He makes an “mm” sound.
“Does, uh…Noah King have a wife?”
Remi is quiet for a moment, but then he steps into the hall. “A wife? I don’t think so. Why?”
“Nothing. Just something he said that got me curious.”
I can feel my brother’s eyes on me as I pick up Clementine’s front left hoof, tucking it between my knees and grabbing my tools. I take off the crimped nail ends before loosening the shoe itself and pulling it free with a few precision tugs. Clementine stands patiently, the most perfect horse there ever was.
“Far as I know,” Remi says, “he dates some but hasn’t had a real serious relationship. Just lives with his uncle.”
My head shoots up. “Wait, what?”
“His uncle,” my brother says again, peering at me. “You didn’t know that?”
“No,” I say, going back to Clementine’s hoof. I use the hook on my knife to scrape the dirt away from her sole. “Why would I know that?”
“I dunno,” Remi mumbles, almost too quietly for me to hear. “Maybe because you’re obsessed with the guy?”
I sputter, nearly dropping Clementine’s leg. “Am not.”
Remi flashes me a quick letter R and the number two with his hand. Are, too. Cheeky little shit.
I grumble and grab my nippers. “I’m not obsessed with him. I just…can’t escape him, you know? He’s everywhere I look. In town. At the store. In the damn newspaper .”
“It’s a small town,” Remi points out. “You’ve met his uncle before, haven’t you? Walter King?”
I think back. “Did he used to work at the post office?”
“Yep.”
I nod idly, using the rasp to even out Clementine’s hoof now that I’ve trimmed and tidied it. Heel to toe diagonally in one direction, toe to heel in the other.
I do remember Walter. He was a nice man, and it’s only now I realize I haven’t seen him in what—years? Why is that?
And why does Noah live with his uncle? Can he not afford his own place?
Guilt momentarily rears before I shake it off. I live at home, too. It’s probably no big deal.
“Wanna go to The Barrel tonight?” I ask my brother. When he looks over, I can tell he missed part of that, so I add a signed, ‘Drinks in town?’
“Why not here?” he asks, cutting the strings off a fresh bale of hay. He uses a pitchfork to fling portions of it into the empty stalls he cleaned. I watch for a moment, impressed with his aim.
When Remi meets my eye, I shrug as best as I can from my position. “Dunno. Just wanna get out.”
Truth be told, I’m feeling antsy. I like hanging out here, sitting around the bonfire behind Jackson’s place, drinking whiskey and catching up with my brothers. But sometimes, like now, there’s this restless urge beneath my skin that has me itching to move. To do something reckless. Maybe find a girl for the night and chase the high that seems so elusive and fleeting, gone by the time the morning sun comes up. It’d feel less meaningless, I’m sure, if I could find a woman I want to settle down with.
But Darling, Montana—like Remi said—is not a big place. And, with the exception of the occasional new townsperson like Ash, most of the fresh faces we get here are only passing through.
So a night is likely all I’ll get.
I know I have Remi on board when he shakes his head with a look of fond exasperation on his face. “Yeah, all right. We’ll head into town.”
I hiss a “ Yes ,” and Remi chuckles softly.
My brother leaves the barn before I’m done shoeing Clementine, likely to head over to the petting farm or take a break back at the house. I use my rasp to smooth down the outside of Clementine’s hooves, having already hammered in and crimped the nails that keep her shoes on tight. I make sure each hoof is pristine and then hem the bottom edges with the rasp, creating a small groove against the metal that’ll make the shoe easier to remove next time.
Done, I reward Clementine with a good brushing and some dates from Jackson’s stash in the tack room.
“We’ll go riding tomorrow,” I promise her, since I still have a few of the other ranch horses on my schedule for today. She kicks her head up in acknowledgement. “In or out?”
In answer, Clementine whinnies and trots toward the barn door. With a chuckle, I follow her, double-checking that all the gates on the perimeter fence are shut before letting her loose and getting back to work.
Yeah. I have a good feeling about tonight.
The Barrel isn’t a particularly large establishment. Wooden casks flank both sides of the front door, each filled with bright yellow flowers now that winter has sloughed off. Inside, conversation flows and glasses clink, the noise loud to even my ears. Remi pulls out his phone, adjusting the volume settings on his processor.
Luckily, two stools open up at the bar as soon as we arrive. We snag them before anyone else can.
“Hello, gentlemen,” Virginia says, setting a couple napkins down on the bar top in front of us. “Just you two tonight?”
Virginia, in addition to being The Barrel’s primary bartender, is Ash’s closest friend from way back when. I have a feeling I know who she’s really asking after.
“Considering your friend was eyefucking my brother all dinner long, I didn’t bother asking them to tag along,” I tell her, signing the words as I speak for Remi’s benefit.
He snorts softly, and Virginia’s lips twitch.
“Sounds about right,” she allows. “And Lawson?”
“Declined,” I reply.
Truth is Lawson has been pretty down lately, ever since his wife Laura asked for a divorce. I hate seeing him so upset, but he doesn’t seem to want me—or anyone—to cheer him up right now.
“Well, what can I get for two of my favorite Darlings?” Virginia asks.
Remi and I both order beer. As Virginia fills our pint glasses, I swivel on my stool and take in the crowded bar.
Remi taps my arm, having noticed my wandering gaze. ‘Don’t tell me you brought me here to be your wingman,’ he signs.
I shake my head quickly. ‘No, of course not,’ I answer, even though I was thinking about the possibility of picking someone up if the opportunity presented itself.
My brother merely snorts. ‘Don’t lose your hat this time.’
I pat it more firmly onto my head, turning back around to thank Virginia as she drops off our drinks.
A prickling at my back has me glancing over my shoulder again. Licking the beer foam from my lip, I set eyes on the very last person I wanted to see tonight.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter under my breath.
Remi turns in my periphery, likely having caught my reaction, but my focus is on Noah King as the door shuts behind him. His eyes sweep over the interior of the bar quickly, his broad form covered in jeans and a simple black t-shirt topped by his usual leather jacket. He brushes his hair back, mussed maybe from his motorcycle helmet, although it always looks a little tousled. I don’t know why he keeps it shaved so close on the sides, like he thinks he’s some sort of hotshot instead of a small-town farrier with a superiority complex.
The man’s eyes lock with mine, and I turn away, facing my beer.
“Colt,” Remi says to get my attention, raising his hands once I look his way. ‘Tell me you’re not going to start something.’
‘I’m not,’ I sign back quickly. ‘Why would I?’
He lifts an eyebrow, and yeah , I guess I get it. He knows secondhand about the festival and firsthand about me following Noah at the farm supply store. Both stupid mistakes—snap decisions—I won’t be making again.
In fact, I’ve decided my new goal in life will be staying as far away from Noah as possible.
“Little Colt,” the man himself says, his presence heavy at my side. I suck in a breath as he seats himself at the stool next to me.
“Really?” I ask. “You’re gonna sit there?”
“No other seats,” he replies easily, but I swear the fucker delights in toying with me. I’m sure he’d get a lot of satisfaction out of pressing charges if I finally give in to my temptation to slug him in his stupid fucking face.
“You’re a dick,” I answer, keeping myself faced forward.
He huffs a laugh and orders a stout from Virginia.
Remi prods my arm again and raises an eyebrow in question. It’s a do you want to get out of here look. I shake my head, assuring him everything is fine.
It is.
I’ll be damned if I let Noah King get to me. The man means nothing, and it’s about time he got the memo.