I shook it, her hand soft and warm in mine. I held it a beat longer, and the air seemed to crackle between us. I had blinders on, everything around me narrowed down to just June. A fire that had nothing to do with my busted ribs uncurled in my chest, spreading outwards until I seemed to fill with it. Awareness flickered in her eyes, her fingers twitching against my palm.
I dropped her hand and turned to leave the barn, stamping out that hopeful fire.
“There’s just one problem,” I said as I passed her.
“What’s that?”
I looked down at her feet, taking in the shiny violet toenail polish that did something dangerous to my heartbeat.
“You can’t muck out a barn in flip-flops.”
SEVEN
june
Thirty minutes later,I returned to Victory Ranch. I’d gone to my pop’s and changed into jeans, a plain T-shirt, sneakers, and had pulled my hair into a quick bun. Thankfully, Pop and Jed were out in the orchard, so I didn’t have to explain what I planned to do at Ty’s property for the next few weeks.
Not that I fully understood it myself. Ty was absolutely right, I had no clue what I was getting into, and every sign pointed to my biceps failing after a day, let alone weeks—but I hated him thinking so little of me. He thought I couldn’t even shovel out stalls? I would prove to him I could do something useful, even if it was just cleaning up after his horses. Admittedly, a crazy way to soothe my pride, but once the idea took hold, it wouldn’t let go. If nothing else, it would help erase some of the guilt that flooded my stomach every time I thought about the hand I’d had in that awful kick.
I found Ty leaning at a strange angle against the back pasture fence, watching the horses graze. Over in a dirt pen, a younger guy worked with a horse, guiding it with a long stick. Happily, the horse wasn’t Bullet. Frankly, I didn’t want to see that menace horse again.
Ty turned around as I approached, and my breath snagged in my throat. Completely unfair that even looking that unfriendly, he still managed to be the handsomest man in a fifty-mile radius.
“Is that your ranch hand?” I asked, shaking away those thoughts.
He nodded, looking me over. Heat prickled up my neck as I waited to see if my new outfit passed the Ty test. Emotions I couldn’t name flared to life in his eyes as his gaze drifted down my body, and my stomach threatened to do a little swoop in response.
Finally, his gaze rested on my feet. He cocked his head to one side. “Those shoes still aren’t going to cut it.”
I wiggled my toes inside my gray sneakers. “They’re the closest thing I’ve got to work shoes.”
Considering what I would be working in, I hoped this little act of penance wouldn’t destroy my favorite pair of running shoes.
“Come on.” He crooked a finger and led me into the barn. “I’ll get you hooked up.”
I followed him to a supply area where a few pairs of tall rubber boots stood beneath a shelf. Even though I could guess what he used them for, the boots didn’t have a trace ofmuckon them. The man might have a dirty job, but he must have been meticulous about cleaning up afterwards.
“Try one of those.”
I picked up one of the rubber boots, but it was heavier than I expected. “This is never going to fit. Your feet are huge.”
“Your feet are tiny. Put the boots on over your shoes, then.”
It took plenty of tugging, but I managed to pull both boots on. I stomped around, getting the feel for walking in such large shoes. Small wonder he didn’t trip over his own feet every day.
“You done, or do you need another lap?” he asked.
“I’m ready.”
He nodded to a far corner. “Bring that wheelbarrow to the first stall. I’ve got all your tools lined up and ready. And here,” he said, holding out a pair of thick work gloves. “You’ll need these.”
I slipped my hands into the gloves. Flexing my fingers, they swam in the smooth leather. “These are huge, too.”
“What can I say? I’m a big guy.”
Heat unfurled across my skin.
Nope. I wouldn’t let my thoughts gothere. This was Ty. Perfect male specimen or not, he was still my ex-boyfriend’s brother. I pushed all considerations of his size away, reminding myself I needed to be a robot. Unemotional. Logical. Not thinking about the correlation of foot size to…jeans size.
