“Well, he should have more respect for you,” he says, his jaw tight as he turns back to his work.
I agree with him. But Matt Lucas is typical of a lot of Phillip’s colleagues—too smart for his own good.
I finish cashing in relative peace, and then I spend the rest of the morning at the big white wall at the front of the store. With the image of Brayden on his horse in my mind, I begin to sketch.
A long while later, I step back to see what I’ve done.
A cowboy on what will be a chestnut-colored horse stands proudly in the foreground with large pastureland behind him. Snow-capped mountain peaks, lush green grass, and Montana’s signature big sky surround the scene. The mural typifies Mountainview, and my hope is it will showcase the store’s aisles filled with local produce, meats, and cowboy tack and gear. I’m so immersed in my work I don’t stop to think about the fact that anyone and everyone will have their eyes on it. It’s been years since I painted, and I don’t really know what possessed me to do something so crazy as to paint a mural in the middle of a public space.
“Don’t worry,” I say to myself. “You can cover it completely with a solid color if it looks like crap when you’re done.”
I pick up a paintbrush and start to bring the sketch to life.
I’m immersed in my work when my phone buzzes, alerting me to Phillip’s bike race. He should be coming around the corner in the next half hour, and I need to make sure I’m ready.
I drop all the brushes into a bucket to soak, clean up the drop cloth, and go find June.
When I find her standing with Brayden by the front door, my heart rate picks up.
My physiological reaction has nothing to do with the hot, sexy cowboy next to her. Not at all.
“I’m off to the pit stop,” I say to her as I jerk my chin toward the outdoors. “Phillip should be here soon, and you know how much support he needs at these races. I’m the only one he’s trained.”
Brayden cocks an eyebrow. “He trained you?”
I sigh. “If you glance out the window when the riders come by, you’ll see what I mean.”
“Actually, Brayden,” June says sweetly, and I could kill her. “I’m going to need help outside. I’ve got the bottled drinks and waters lined up at the table on the sidewalk as well as some on-the-go energy snacks. Would you mind staying out there when they come by?”
“Sure. I’m leaving for practice in an hour, but I’ll work until then.”
“Perfect.”
As soon as Brayden leaves, June smirks at me. “This is going to be a fun bike race.”
“Why?” I say suspiciously. “Who have you been talking to?”
“Mom.”
“What do you mean?”
I smile when I hear that Mom and Dad are back in the country.
“I emailed them and never heard back,” I say. “When did they get in?”
“Late last night. Apparently, Phillip called and invited them.” June shrugs. “You know how he likes to show off to Dad, especially when he’s eyeballs deep in research for a new paper he hopes to publish.”
“But he won’t even get to talk to Dad. Remember these races?”
“Oh, I think I do,” June says. “I have nightmares about them still sometimes. Phillip’s sweaty body hunched over his teeny-weeny bike and all of us standing there cheering him on while he demands you deliver him water and petroleum jelly for his chafing. Ugh.”
She shudders at the memory, and I have to dig my heels into the ground to not join her. These bike races are so unpleasant.
She gives me a shove toward the door. “You should get out there and stake your spot. And keep your cell with you so you can phone me in for a listen if things get really interesting.”
* * *
As I make my way to the corner where the pit stop is located, I do a double-take.
