Page 61 of Awaiting the Storm
“Being an ass? Yes, I did,” I reply. “But you’re his assistant, Charli. I’m sure he doesn’t appreciate being reprimanded by you in front of a horse’s owner.”
“Maybe that’s true, but this isn’t the first time he’s acted like a jerk when I voiced my opinion. He doesn’t respect me. I know he has years of experience training horses and has achieved great success, but I’ve improved quite a bit myself, in case you haven’t noticed. I believe I should be able to speak up when I feel a session is going in the wrong direction without having my head bitten off.”
I sigh. “You’re right. You have gotten very good, and you do deserve to be heard. I’ll talk to him.”
She smiles. “Thanks,” she says, elbowing me lightly. “Now, let’s get inside. You’ve got a hot date picking you up in”—she fishes her phone from her pocket and taps the screen—“one hour and fifteen minutes.”
Right. That date.
My stomach does a weird little somersault at the reminder.
Inside the ranch house, the scent of baked apples and cinnamon lingers from Grandma’s earlier experiments with sugar-free dessert options. She’s out playing bunco now while Daddy and Grandpa are in the living room, watching television with a bowl of air-popped corn between them. I’m not sure if they know about my plans for tonight; although I’m fairly certain Daddy overheard me and Caison talking earlier at the closing, he hasn’t mentioned anything.
Charli and I both kick off our boots in the mudroom and barely make it into the hallway before her phone rings.
She answers with a bright, “Finally!” and puts it on speaker as we climb the stairs up to my bedroom.
It’s Shelby.
“Hey, we made it!” she says, her voice echoing over the line. “Just checked in at the motel. Cabe’s grabbing our bags out of his truck.”
“Good,” I say, taking the phone from Charli’s hand, relieved. “Everything go all right?”
“Smooth as could be,” she says. “We got Jupiter all settled in the stables at the fairgrounds, and we’re just dropping off our stuff here, then meeting Axle and Royce to grab some food.”
“Tell our wayward cousins we said hello,” Charli calls as she opens my closet door and rummages through my clothing.
Shelby laughs. “Will do. Anyway, just wanted to let you know we’re here. We’ll go over to the arena first thing in the morning for check-in.”
“Good luck. You’re gonna do great,” I tell her, and I mean it. “Don’t let Jupiter second-guess himself.”
“He’s good,” she says confidently. “We’ve got this.”
“Love you,” I say.
“I love you more,” Charli bellows over my shoulder.
“Love y’all,” she says, then adds, “Matty, have fun tonight. Try not to overthink it.”
“Charli told you?”
“Yep, texted her as soon as you told me,” Charli admits. “And she is overthinking it! I’m trying to help her pick out an outfit before she full-on spirals and attempts to back out.”
“Okay,” I cut in, “we’re hanging up now.”
Shelby just laughs again and ends the call.
Charli turns to me, hands on her hips like a drill sergeant. “All right, go shower, quickly, so we can get to work.”
We end up with every piece of clothing I own strewn across the bed, floor, and every available surface. I’m half dressed in an old sports bra and a pair of lounge pants, clasping a blouse I’ve never even worn out of the house.
“Too dressy?” I ask as I hold it up to my chest.
Charli squints. “Too funeral-y.”
I groan and toss it onto the reject pile.
The date’s at The Prairie Pie, the laid-back pizza joint in town that serves everything on mismatched plates. It’s casual. Comfortable. And still, I’m agonizing over what to wear.
