Chapter 20 Beau
Chapter twenty
Beau
thanksgiving week
Abigail’s perched on the counter, boots dangling, swinging her feet like she’s got no worries in the world while I kneel in front of her, brushing dirt off the bottom of her soles.
Turns out she stepped in something one of the animals left behind.
Because of course she did. And of course I’m willing to clean it up.
Her laugh is soft. Caught somewhere between embarrassed and amused. The real kind. The kind that sneaks up on you.
“You don’t have to clean my shoes, you know?” she says, twisting a strand of hair around her finger.
“Yes, ma’am, I do,” I shoot back, squinting up at her with that grin I know she’s secretly obsessed with. “Can’t have you trackin’ that smell into the house. Jasper might make us eat Thanksgiving dinner outside.”
She snorts. “Or you’re just obsessed with feet. My feet. The horses feet. The cows.”
That earns a huff of laughter as I stand in front of her before tapping her nose. “Clever girl.”
“Tell me about it,” she says. “Being a farrier.”
And hell… I light up a little like I always do whenever I get to talk about my job.
“I trim hooves,” I explain, hands starting to move without me thinking about it.
“Nail on horseshoes. Balance their feet so they don’t go lame workin’ cattle all day.
Gotta keep ‘em sound or they can’t do their job.
We rely on them as much as they rely on us.
” I shrug. “Takes patience. So much fucking patience. Strong legs. A good back.” And because I can’t help myself, “And a natural charm so the horses don’t kick me in the balls.
Or my head. But that part comes pretty easy. ”
I shoot her a wink, and she laughs—really laughs this time—and it hits me right in the chest. It’s slowly becoming my favorite sound, especially when I’m the one who made her do it. Because she sounds free, like she’s forgetting whatever pain she came here with, at least for a second.
I’m getting attached. I know it.
I didn’t mean to.
Didn’t plan on it.
Didn’t ask for it.
But damn if it ain’t happening anyway.