She looked at him—half irritated, half amused.
“He asked me on a date for Saturday. I said yes.”
Chris leaned back in his chair, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Where’s he taking you?”
The sweat dripping off his nose and forehead sizzled on the scorching hot iron as he hammered another horseshoe into its proper shape. Riding next to Blythe yesterday, hearing her laugh, and getting gritty in their conversation, was so goddamn refreshing. He talked to other cowboys all the time, and most of them knew his story. But to share it with a woman and have her share back—that was new.
This specific shoe needed some customization. All horseshoes did. No one horse had the same hoof. But this one was for a tiny Shetland pony named Roger. He had a white coat with brown spots, and a beautiful almond colored mane and tail. It was his first time getting shoes, and he was being such a good boy, waiting for Justin to mold the last one.
There was a small lip that needed to be made, to cover a chip in one hoof where Roger had kicked a metal post. Justin pinched the molten hot shoe between a pair of heavy fire tongs, brought his hammer down two more times, then walked over to where Roger was tied. He lifted the pony’s leg up at the knee, pinnedit between his own knees, and pressed the shoe to the bottom of his hoof—a perfect fit.
He secured the shoe with the proper nails, and filed everything down before glossing over the hoof with a special balm, to moisturize and protect it. Justin loved how Roger nuzzled his cheek with his pony nose as he petted and praised him for a job well done.
Justin called for Bear to get in the truck while he gathered his tools. They had one more stop for the day, and he hoped she would be there. Their date was still a day away, and he was glad he had an excuse to possibly run into her beforehand. Plus, he needed to get her phone number.
There was a back portion of the barn at Silo Springs that opened into a corral outside where they kept the milk cow. He could see Blythe sitting on a stool with a bucket between her legs, pulling each teat, attempting to fill it up. Justin leaned on the gate of the corral, his arms hanging over the rusty horizontal rod. He admired her profile—the freckles he could see dotted on her shoulder, the cute braids hanging behind her ears, and that trucker hat she was always wearing.
He groaned internally and resisted the urge to launch himself over the fence, haul her into one of the horse stalls, and do unspeakable things to her. Damn, she made him primal. How could that asswipe in Chicago be sleeping with this woman and not appreciate every single thing about her? If she was Justin’s—there was no way in burning hell she’d be anywhere but his arms, every fucking day for the rest of her life. He just couldn’t understand it.
“How's it goin’, sugar?”
She lifted her hat and smiled up at him. God, he loved her smile. He launched himself over, only needing a few long strides to be at her side.
“I never got your number. Would you give it to me?”
Justin crouched down, meeting her dusty green eyes with his blue ones. One knee was higher than the other, supporting his forearm and elbow. He waited with his phone swiped open, ready for whatever numbers she would give him. He thumbed the keyboard as she recited her contact information.
“You never told me where you were taking me…” Her tone was a bit flirty as she continued milking the cow.
He thought about taking her to the dance hall, or maybe just a nice restaurant. He thought about a movie or a picnic in the back of his truck—all excellent first date ideas. But he had something better in the back of his mind, and he was going to keep it a surprise.
“You just hang on and find out.” He swiped the back of his forefinger down the bridge of her nose, where a spec of mud was trying to hide among her freckles. “I’ll pick you up.” He winked and spun his hat backward as he stood and conveniently sauntered into the barn to check on the horse he was there for.
He didn’t know how long it would take, but Blythe Harper was going to be his. He decided it the first time he’d met her.
There hadn't been a moment since that he wasn’t thinking about her, and after he took her mouth, there was no going back. He was past the point of no return with this woman, and he didn’t give a damn about any baggage she was carrying. He knew how to carry shit. If he had to carry her shit too, he’d do it gladly.
As he did his work, he tried to be discreet with his glances. He truly had never seen a more beautiful human in his life. The way the sun hit her braids, it was like shiny ribbons intertwined with each weave. The way the straps of her overalls laid on the thick tank top over her shoulders, and the way her skin peeked out just above the waist band as he looked at her from the side—she was so down to earth. She wasn't a fancy person by any means. She looked like she belonged out here. He couldn’t imagine her in the city, waitressing at a fancy restaurant and on the arm ofa rich fathead. It just didn’t make sense. In his mind, she was completely out of place. He wondered if she had always felt that way, too.
On his way back to his truck, he watched Blythe walking toward the house, a bucket of milk in each hand. Chivalry demanded he chase her down and help her, but as he was making a decision, he saw Evolette open the screen door, ready to let her in when she made it up the porch steps. Evie waved to him, and he blew her a kiss back. He watched as Blythe turned and nodded at him.
“What time?” she called.
“Four-thirty. You don’t need to be fancy, you can wear exactly what you’ve got on.”
He meant it, too.
She was cute as a little kid, but now—she was stunning in denim and dirt.
Grabbing the phone off her nightstand, she silenced the obnoxious bells that kept ringing in her dream. Her eyes were still blurry, and she didn’t recognize the number as she opened the text message on the screen.
Justin: Still on for tonight, sugar?
She smiled, tapping the glass with her thumbs.
Blythe: Depends, cowboy. Where are you taking me?
Justin: How did that one Criminal Minds episode play out?
