Page 15 of Pictures in Blue
“Perfect,” she turns and I follow her to the counter, gently placing the boots on the glass case, various wood carvings and knives on display. A soft nudge on my forearm makes me jump as a black cat walks his way across the counter, his paws leaving smudged prints behind on the glass. I hold my hand out for him to sniff and he promptly ignores it and looks up at Sky.
“She’s fine, Max.”
With her voice of approval, he turns back to me and lets me pet him, the sound of his purrs growing with each scratch of his ears. “Well, aren’t you the sweetest.”
“Don’t let him fool you. He’s an ass.” As if he understood, Max gives Sky a look that says she will pay for that comment later. I laugh and continue to stroke his fur.
I nudge my head toward the door Hudson left through a few moments ago and I level my eyes with her. “Is he always like that?”
“Who?” She asks, not looking up from the computer.
“The guy that was here…who you were arguing with?” I shouldn’t be prying, but I can’t help myself. The image of him at Fran’s, muscular forearms, dark hair falling in his eyes has been circling through my mind since I saw him.
“Oh, Hudson,” she confirms. “Is my brother always an asshole?” she questions without hesitation. “Yeah. More so than usual though. Probably just needs to get laid.”
My cheeks redden. “I don’t think I’ve seen him crack a smile at all. I mean, I’ve only seen him once. But he did smile at Fran. He just doesn’t seem like the smiley type.”
A dry chuckle escapes from her. “That’s because he’s not. He takes his role of the town grump very seriously,” she says, scanning the boots and placing them in a reusable cloth bag with her logo embroidered on the side. “But he has a real soft spot for Fran.”
“I don’t blame him for that.”
“We all have a soft spot for that woman. She could stab me with one of her crochet hooks and I’d probably thank her.”
I let out a laugh and grab my bag, the shoes heavy inside. “So, where’s the best place to hike?”
“Well, we are really close to the Three Sisters, it’s three mountain peaks really close together that usually get lumped into one name.” She pulls out a map and unfolds it, spreading it out on the counter in between us and smooths the creases with her hands.
“There are a lot of great trails in the area around the Three Sisters. There are some trails that are a couple of miles long and some that take a few days to hike. For you right now, I’d definitely recommend the shorter trails until you get a feel for the landscape and break in your boots. The easiest trail is the Proxy Falls Trail,” she pulls out a pen and circles the area. “I think you’d love it because it’s less than two miles and there’s a great waterfall to see, and you can swim in the water, but I wouldn’t do that one alone this week since it’s supposed to rain more. It gets muddy and really easy to lose your footing even if you are a seasoned hiker.”
“Oh, I’m not. But I used to hike a lot when I was younger.”
“Then the Proxy Falls won’t be too bad for you, but like I said, don’t go alone. Just in case.”
“Do you have time to take me?”
“Sorry, cupcake. Can’t. The store is my first priority and there’s no one to take over.”
By the sly look on her face, I had an inkling of where she was going with this. My gut tells me she noticed the tension in the air when her brother was here. Tension that wasn’t from the two of them.
I fiddle with the business cards organized on the counter. I take one and press a corner into my middle finger and another into my thumb, spinning the card around and around. I catch a glance at the name printed on the front,
Skylar Waters
Hudson Waters,I think. I like that.
The way he looked in the coffee shop invades my mind and it’s not like I can deny I like the way he looks and the way his shirts hug his shoulders and biceps, the fabric snug enough to see the muscles underneath. And suddenly I wish I was that flannel, wrapping myself around his back, feeling his body, his warmth, the contraction of his muscles…
Ugh.
I can’t help noticing how good looking he is. Okay, not good looking. Hot. Butter melting in a frying pan, hot. If a magazine needed a model for flannel, he would be it. Or as Charlotte would suggest, a lumberjack model.
I shake my head and make myself focus, turning my eyes back to Sky. “Mmmmkay, so who would you suggest?”
“I’ll ask around and see who is up for a hike. If Fran was 30 years younger, she’d jump at the chance just to find out all she could about you.”
“Honestly, a hike with Fran wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
She studies my features before letting out a loud sigh. “Hey, I said I couldn’t take you hiking, but Icantake you drinking.”
