3. Proving It #2
“Unanimous.” The grin would be permanently etched on my face all day. “Even Gary voted yes, at the end. I think the donut bribery finally paid off.”
Daisy’s mouth curved into something that was almost a smile. From her, that was a lot. “Good. You worked hard on that pitch. When’s the first one?”
“This Friday.” I unlocked the shop door, and she followed me inside, the bell chiming overhead as we stepped into the cool quiet of Wylde West Outfitters.
The morning light was just coming through the front windows, falling across the boot displays and the turquoise jewelry, and the hand-painted sign we’d created together for Mom when we were younger that read Wylde West Outfitters: Where the West Gets Dressed.
“I’ve got the DJ booked, the Sapphire’s ready, and I’m running the social media push starting today.
If I can get even a few women through the door, it’ll be enough to prove the concept. ”
“Women walking into a bar full of lonely cowboys?” Daisy settled herself against the counter and raised an eyebrow. “What could possibly go wrong?”
“We’ve done that plenty of times,” I reminded her, and flipped on the lights and started up the register, already mentally cycling through the day’s task list. Inventory check, new boot display, social media graphics, call the DJ to confirm the set list, touch base with the Sapphire about the bar setup.
And most importantly, get my flyers put up all over the college campuses from Billings to Bozeman, and Great Falls, too.
“We’ve never fallen for cowboys, though.”
“Yet.” My brain never really stopped making lists. It was the only way I knew how to keep everything from sliding sideways. “You should come Friday, you know. Bring the ranch crew.”
“I’ll come to support you, you know that. But I’m not bringing anyone.”
“Not even Knox?” I kept my voice perfectly innocent, a skill I’d spent years perfecting and which Daisy could see through like glass. “I’m sure he’d love a night out with you. A little music, a little dancing. The man cleans up nicely when he’s not drowning in aftershave.”
The look Daisy gave me could have stripped paint. “So? All the guys at the ranch do.”
“Colt told me Knox actually ironed his shirt before church Sunday night.”
The faintest pink crept up the side of her neck, just above the collar of her work shirt, and I was enjoying myself immensely and making no effort to hide it.
“You’re one to talk. Half the town thinks you and Colt Calhoun are a thing.
He kissed you earlier this summer; he carried you out of a mud puddle on Sunday. ”
“I kissed him. And my boots cost two hundred dollars. He was protecting the merchandise.”
“He carried you bridal-style. And you let him.” Daisy’s voice had shifted from teasing to something more observational, like the way she assessed a horse’s gait before deciding whether the problem was in the hoof or the leg.
I didn’t have a good answer for that, so I redirected. “There is no me and Colt. We’re just friends.”
“Good, then I won’t bring it up again if you’ll stop mentioning me and Knox. Deal?”
We shook hands on it.
Daisy was quiet for a moment, watching me fuss with bracelets on a new stand I had just gotten in. When she spoke again, the teasing was gone.
“Ivy, I want you to know that I admire what you’ve done with Mom’s shop, and with the Chamber.
I see you put real work into things, and it shows.
And now you have these Cowboy Night events…
” She paused and chewed her cheek. The air shifted the way you feel weather turning, that drop in pressure that tells you something’s coming.
“But I don’t want you so overworked that you—”
She stopped mid-sentence, mouth closed, like she’d caught the words before they could escape. I knew my sister well enough to know she hadn’t run out of things to say, but out of courage to say them.
“That I what?” Something cold flickered through my chest. “Just say it, Daisy.”
“That everything would become too much and you’d run off again.”
The shop went silent but for the hum of the register.
A truck passing outside. The faint sound of the espresso machine whirring through the shared wall with The Copper Cup.
Not much noise ever came from the opposite shared wall with the bank.
I stood behind the counter as my old wounds opened up. They had never really closed at all.
That was what she was afraid of? Not that I’d work too hard or burn out or drop a ball. But that I’d leave. One morning she’d come by the shop and find the lights off and the door locked and a note on the counter, or worse, no note at all, just the empty space where her sister used to be.
Daisy had lived through that once. She had every right to be terrified of living through it again.
When I had left with Seth years ago, I thought it was love.
She didn’t approve of my leaving, especially so soon after our parents died.
She called me selfish for not staying to help her with the shop, our ranch and orchard, and our younger sisters.
The worst part wasn’t only staying away with Seth, but not reaching out to my sisters at all. When I finally left him and returned to town, it took quite a bit of groveling and time to make up for it.
So yes, I’d earned that fear she held close to her heart.
I’d bought it and paid for it with every mile I’d put between us and this town when I was young and stupid and grieving and convinced that the fastest way to stop hurting was to run off with a man who treated me more like a possession than a lover.
But understanding it didn’t make it hurt any less.
“It scared the hell out of me to see Seth at Ash’s wedding earlier this summer. I thought you’d leave again,” she admitted.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I assured her.
“I know you don’t fully trust that yet, but I’m still working to prove it to you every single day.
Daisy, I’m here now, committed to running this shop.
And I’m going to do all I can to save this town and somehow put on a Friday night event with only four days to pull it off, and the only place I’m running is back and forth between here and the Sapphire until my boots wear out. ”
I let a beat pass, then tilted my head and gave her a look that was pure Ivy, the version of me that knew how to land a punchline even when my chest was aching. “And when they do wear out, I’ll sell myself that pretty new red pair at cost. That’s the beauty of owning a boot shop.”
Daisy stared at me with that steady, all-knowing gaze she’d inherited from our mother. Then she exhaled through her nose, shook her head, and sort of laughed. At least, something in her expression loosened just enough to tell me we were okay. Not resolved. But okay for now.
“Friday night,” she said, pushing off the counter and heading for the door. “I’ll be there. Shoot me a list of things you need help with. But if Knox shows up in that ironed shirt, I’m leaving.”
“If Knox shows up in that ironed shirt, I’m putting pictures of him on the shop’s social media.”
The bell chimed as the door swung shut behind her, and I stood alone in the shop, the quiet settling around me like a coat. For a moment, I pressed my palms flat on the counter and breathed, as if I could feel our parents’ heartbeats still ticking here.
They had started this shop together, back when the town was bigger and the foot traffic on Main Street actually justified a retail lease. Dad kept the ranch going, and Mom had hoped the shop would bring in extra income.
After their accident, Daisy had hired Mrs. Landon, their longtime assistant manager, to keep it running while the rest of us tried to figure out how to keep breathing—each in our own way. Mine had involved climbing onto the back of Seth’s motorcycle and disappearing with him.
Mrs. Landon had been ready to retire by the time I came crawling back, which helped my case when I sat across from Daisy at the kitchen table and asked her to let me manage it. She handed over the keys and said, “Prove to me I’m not making a terrible decision.”
I’d been proving it every day since. I needed this place to be evidence that I could be trusted with something precious, that the girl who’d torn out of this town in a cloud of dust and bad decisions had come back as someone worth believing in.
Some days, the town believed me. Some days Daisy did. I almost believed in myself.
Today, men in folding chairs had voted to trust me with something bigger than boot sales. Friday night, I’d show them they were right.
I flipped the shop sign on the door to OPEN and got to work.