I take a couple of quick, shaky breaths and follow, trying to arrange my features so they don’t screamI was about to make a Very Questionable Choice With Your Father.
Sadie barrels into the kitchen in mismatched pajamas, hair wild, one sock indeed suspiciously stiff. She stops in front of Boone, holding up her foot like it’s a crime scene.
“I had a dream Pickle stole my shoes,” she announces solemnly. “And now Moose murdered my sock.”
Boone looks down at her foot like it’s the most serious thing he’s dealt with all week. “That does sound like premeditated sock violence.”
“The animals are rising up.”
Sadie finally notices me and lights up. “Miss Delaney! Moose is a villain.”
“I always suspected,” I tell her. “He has shifty eyes.”
She giggles and hops closer to me, then stops, nose wrinkling. “You smell of cinnamon.”
I glance at Boone, grateful for something normal to latch onto.
“Cinnamon sugar test batch,” I hiss quickly. “For tomorrow. I was… taste testing.”
Boone does not look at me.
At all.
He keeps his attention locked on Sadie like she’s the only person in the room. His ears, though, are a little pink.
“Come on, kiddo,” he declares, scooping her up. “Let’s deal with the sock massacre.”
She wraps her arms around his neck, already launching into a detailed analysis of her dream. “Pickle wanted my shoes so he could go to school and learn math. He said he needs to know numbers so he can count bones and meat and how many times he barks.”
“That tracks.”
He heads down the hallway, Sadie chattering happily on his shoulder.
He doesn’t look back.
The second they disappear around the corner, I sag against the counter, the cool edge digging into my spine. My knees feel suspiciously wobbly. I press a hand flat over my heart. It’s still racing.
The kitchen is quiet again.
The jar of fortunes sits where I left it, one slip still crumpled in my palm.
Keep going. You haven’t even begun to live yet.
I stare at the pantry door, where Boone stood so close I could feel his breath on my lips.
This is impossible.
This is forbidden.
This is the exact kind of mess I swore I would never walk into again.
And yet…
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Boone
Monday should be simple:feed the horses, check the fences, meet the hay delivery, and try not to think about Delaney in the kitchen two nights ago.
