Page 6 of Kentucky Nights
I slide off the saddle, tying the reins around the rail above the water trough. Romeo begins drinking, and I pat his shoulder. “Drink up. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t go biting anyone.” I step away, then pause, glancing over my shoulder. “Again.”
“He deserved it,”he replies without taking his mouth away from the water.
I’m not sure I will ever get used to talking to animals.
My spurs clink with every step on the dusty wooden pathway. The loud thumps of my boots have the locals giving me a wide berth. They must sense something different about me that they can’t quite put their finger on. They are smart too. I can smell the spike of fear in their blood when they get too close to me, and I’m too tempted to rip their heads from their shoulders.
The violence I constantly feel—the craving for blood—they never fade.
I open the front door of Hank’s Feed Store, the bell jingling to announce a customer’s arrival.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” an older woman stammers when she bumps into me.
I keep my head down, my Stetson casting a shadow to hide my face. “No problem, ma’am. I insist.” I open the door wider, gesturing with my arm out for her to walk into the store first.
“What a gentleman. Thank you.”
I smirk, hiding in the casted shadow. “You’re welcome, ma’am.” My gaze catches the bold vein on her wrist as she lifts her hands, her dainty purse dangling from her elbow.
She walks with sass and attitude, sashaying her hips and demanding attention in the store. I can tell she’s married to a wealthy man. She wears fine gold jewelry with a large, tacky diamond on her ring finger. The extravagant-looking older woman is even wearing a stylish light blue hat with a white feather on top of her perfectly styled hair.
I can’t remember a time when women didn’t have to worry so much about their appearance. It must be a lot of pressure to always feel like you can’t be less than perfect. They deserve more.
“Mrs. Bell. How are you today?”
The sugar-laced voice has me stepping inside the store and lifting my head so I can try to find the face it belongs to.
“Oh, Daphne, honey, I hope you can help me.”
My, oh, my.
Daphne just became someone I need to know.
“Excuse me,” a man’s voice pulls me from my stupor.
I blink, realizing I’m standing in front of the door and people can’t get in. “Apologies.” I pinch the brim of my hat, giving my chin a small tilt to my chest.
My eyes lock on Daphne, the lovely young woman behind the counter, helping out Mrs. Bell. I don’t even try to hear what theyare talking about as I slowly walk the edge of the room to get closer to her.
She has strawberry blonde hair that falls to her shoulders. Half of it is pinned back, revealing the delicate features of her face. Her subtle pink lips have a perfect curve to the top, while her bottom lip is just a kiss plumper.
My, oh, my.
Ms. Daphne is a sight for very sore eyes. My spurs still clink with every step until I find myself, unknowingly, standing next to Mrs. Bell.
“Oh, thank you, Daphne. I appreciate your help.” Mrs. Bell’s eyes lift to meet mine before drifting back to Daphne. “I’ll just go. I’ll let you know if I need anything.” She nudges me before whispering, “She is a very sweet young lady. Don’t go messing it up.”
I grin, taking off my hat like the gentleman I am, and press it against my chest. “I have no intention of doing that, Mrs. Bell.”
She smiles, her cheeks turning a slight pinkish color before she clears her throat. Lifting her hands again, elbows to her side, she saunters over to the aisle Daphne steered her towards.
I stand on the other side of the counter, my hat still pressed against my chest as I get lost in the lightest green eyes I’ve ever seen.
“Can I help you, Sir?”
“Please, call me Kentucky.”
A feverish grin spreads across her face. She tucks her hair behind her ear and glances down. Holding out her hand, she gets the courage to look up at me. “I’m Daphne Reynolds.”
