Her whole face softens. “Layla’s pure sunshine. Blonde hair, blue eyes, pretty enough to kill you but crazy enough to bury the body afterward. She’s a content creator. Paints, vlogs, whatever else she feels like. She’s the kind of person who’ll give you the shirt off her back and then talk shit about you behind your back... lovingly.”
I can’t help the grin that secretly pulls at my lips. “Sounds like someone Reed would either fall head over heels for or strangle.”
She laughs, and for the first time since we’ve started this drive, the tension between us breaks a little.
“Probably both,” she chuckles, “but she’s the best. They’re both amazing people, I can already see them annoying the fuck out of you.”
The warmth in her voice, the way she talks about her friends, makes me feel like I’m seeing a different side of her. It’s not all about proving herself to everyone.
At least with her friends, she can be herself.
“God, if they’re anything like you,” I huff. “I’m already irritated and I haven’t even met them yet,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road.
“Whoa, don’t get your panties in a bunch, you act like me being here isn’t the most excitement you’ve had.” She replies, her voice snappy now.
There she is.
“They’re like sisters to me, sisters I so desperately wanted growing up. They keep me grounded and have beenthere for me through it all. They are my ride or dies. My people. Myfamily.”
I nod, silently appreciating how she’s opening up, even if it’s just a little bit. I pull into the Tractor Supply parking lot, the engine rumbling low as I park the truck.
She gives me a questioning glance. “I thought you were taking me for a celebratory matcha for cleaning up horse shit today.”
I shake my head, cutting the engine. “Huh? No, we gotta grab some feed. And while we’re here, you’re picking out a proper pair of boots, princess.”
Her mouth drops open in outrage. “What the hell’s wrong with my shoes?”
I smirk, leaning over just enough to make her squirm. “You mean your heels? You need proper boots to work on the ranch, not designer heels.”
She glares at me.
I climb out of the truck, tossing her a wink. “Move your ass, princess. You’re in ranch country now.”
I watchher stomp into Tractor Supply like a woman who’d rather be anywhere else but here. She walks into the store with her little arms crossed, face scrunched up as her eyes scan every item like it’s something beneath her.
I smirk to myself and nod toward the back. “Over here.”
She drags her feet the whole way like a damn kid, and comes to a dead stop in front of the wall lined with work boots.
Ariat. Carhartt. Wrangler. Wolverine.
All brands that fucking last you a lifetime doing manual labor.
She glares at them in pure horror.
“What the hell are these ugly boots,” she mutters under her breath.
I bark a short laugh and grab a pair off the shelf, jerking my chin toward the bench.
“Sit.”
Her glare sharpens, but she listens, dropping down onto the bench, her arms folded tight like she’s daring me to piss her off even more.
I kneel in front of her, tossing the boot onto the floor with a heavy thud, tapping her ankle.
“Foot.”
She hesitates, just long enough to make me grin. I reach out as I grab her calf and haul her foot up onto my thigh without a second thought.
