Page 38 of The Sun Will Rise
“Or I could just wear yours,” I say, a mischievous grin curling my lips.My girlhas those butterflies flapping up their usual storm, and I’m entirely unashamed about how much I love hearing the words, how much I enjoy being someone’s girl. No, notsomeone’sgirl.Everett’sgirl.
“You know what they say about wearing a cowboy’s hat,” he murmurs, switching off the engine. He turns to me with his lips in a serious line, and want burning in his grey eyes.
“No?” I play along, wide-eyed and innocent.
“Cowboy puts his hat on your head, it means you belong to him.”
“You gonna give me your hat, Cowboy?”
“No,” he says quietly. “Think you must’ve already given me yours.”
With that, he opens the door with a flick of his fingers and slips out, leaving me dumbfounded, even as he rounds the front of the cab and opens my door for me. I’m still in a state of shock when he takes my hand and helps me navigate the step down to the asphalt.
Skillett is every bit the small town from the movies. There’s the diner, with the requisite busybody waitress with a heart of gold. There’s a flower shop and a bakery and one of those ‘a bit of everything’ shops, which Everett points out as we stroll hand-in-hand. Eventually, we reach our first stop: Talia’s Boutique. Talia’s name is written in fancy script in the windows, and a sweet little bell jingles as Everett pushes through the door.
“I’ll be right out!” A muffled voice calls from somewhere. The shop floor is empty of people, but racks of floral dresses and fringed leather fill the floor space, and the entire room is lined with shelves of hats and boots.
“Talia’s dresses are all about fashion, but the boots are the real deal,” Everett says in a hushed tone. He leans in closer so I can hear him, and he squeezes my hand lightly as a beautiful golden-skinned, honey-haired woman floats out from a doorway I hadn’t even noticed. She’s close to Everett’s height, with curves for days and a freckle beside her eye that lifts when her face splits into a wide smile.
“Everett Tanner! Man, it’s good to see you back in town again. How’s your mom?”
“Hey, Talia,” Everett says with a small laugh. “She’s good. We’re all doin’ okay. How’s Tess?”
“Tess is living her best youngest daughter life,” Talia laughs. “Bartend all day, party all night, call Mom and Dad once a week. Little sisters, am I right?”
Everett’s laugh is more of a guffaw, and then he squeezes my hand. “Hey, Tal, this is Ruth. We’re looking for boots, and maybe a hat.”
“You ain’t givin’ the girl your hat, Tanner?” Talia cocks her head with an exaggerated look of surprise on her face. “You know what they say about a cowboy’s hat.”
“Ruth can have anything she wants,” Ev says, with another squeeze of my fingers. “My hat. My heart.”
Talia’s expression melts into something soft, and she turns to gesture at the wall of boots on display.
“Well,” she says. “Take your pick. We got low boots, mid-calf, knee-highs. Sharp toes, round toes. Fancy or plain. You got any ideas what you want, Ruth?”
I clear my throat lightly before speaking.
“I like these ones,” I say, pointing at a pair around the height of my shoulders. They’re ankle height and dark chocolate brown, with stars stitched in gold on either side of the shaft. “And these.” Beside them, I spot a wine-red pair of mid-calf boots. The decoration on them is minimal, just some simple stitching around the thicker panels of the boot shaft. I point at them, too. Talia lifts both pairs from the shelf.
“You know your size?”
“Um… not really,” I say with a frown. I’ve learned the hard way that my shoe size is different in the US.
“No bother.” Talia waves a hand. “Lemme grab my sizer.” She disappears, seemingly floating on air, only to emerge a moment later with a measuring tape around her shoulders and a board that looks like something you’d find in a children’s shoe store. She directs me to remove a shoe and place my foot on it, then wraps the measuring tape around my instep.
“’Kay. Be right back.” She floats away again, then returns with four large shoe boxes in her arms. She separates them into pairs. “Try these first,” she says.
I slide my left foot into the first boot. It’s a snug fit, the heel cup gripping my heel tightly.
“Can you wriggle your toes?”
I try, and find minimal movement.
“Take a step or two. How does it feel? Is it snug, or is it tight?”
“It pinches a little,” I admit. “Mostly on the toes.”
“Thought it might,” Talia says. “You’re kinda on the cusp of two sizes. The brown ones come in half sizes, so I went up a half size for you, but the red ones don’t. I grabbed a different one in a similar colour and style, though.”
