Asha King Read Online Free PDF Page A

mother, if she lived still, would have more than a few chastising words about it.
    Dewey approached as she stalked toward the house, a huge grin splitting his friendly face. “I was going to drive into town. Want to come? Maybe pick up, um...” He glanced at her feet. “You know, clothes and stuff?”
    Shopping. Shopping sounded wonderful .
    But so did a shower and a change of clothes.
    Shopping ...
    “Gimme ten minutes!” she called over her shoulder as she raced for the house.
    She was in the truck waiting for him in eight.
     
    ****
     
     
    Stirling Falls Tack Shop was vast and smelled like leather. Dani skipped the saddles, bridles, and horse care equipment and went straight for the clothes. Dewey chuckled, muttered something about women, but she was too tired to argue about the stereotype. Yes, she loved clothes, and she’d particularly love ones that made living at the ranch more bearable.
    There was also an assortment of horse-theme jewelry up by the cash counter that sparkled in the bright overhead lights. Jewelry would, of course, make things even more bearable, she was sure. At the very least, she needed a chunky belt buckle.
    For now, she skipped the jewelry and paused next to a navy velvet riding hat, running her fingers along the soft surface. Navy wasn’t really her color—something brighter would be nice—but it was lovely. Dani grinned as Dewey walked by. “I had one of these as a kid.”
    “Ah.” He smiled widely. “English rider.”
    “That’s what Cooper kept saying.”
    “Well, when you’re at a Western ranch, they’ll talk down about English. But if you’re with English people, they say the same about Western. Best to just go with wherever you are.”
    That was true and she had no intention of riding anyway. Instead, she moved to the left and plucked a light brown Stetson off the rack. She set it on her head and turned to see her reflection in a mirror between the boot racks. Not bad at all—she’d need autumn toned clothes to match, but it would be cute to wear while filming vlog entries. Maybe tie her black curls into loose pigtails behind her ears. A perfect new profile pic.
    She swung it by the strap as she moved toward the boots. Maybe dark brown for those and something all purpose—though the red caught her eye.
    Dewey hung near, perhaps to see if she needed advice or something, and she decided to pick his brain for a while. “So is there any particular reason why Cooper is always a jerk?”
    He chuckled, plucked off his Stetson, and ran his hand back through his short blond hair. “He’s not always ,” Dewey said, and then amended that as well, “I mean, not ever. He just...likes order. He likes everything in its place, sort of.”
    “Doesn’t strike me as a neat freak.” She pulled down a box of boots and lifted the lid—now they were nice. Beautiful detailing up the side. She decided not to look at the price since she was putting everything on her credit card anyway. Surprises were always nice.
    “Not like that. Just...likes life predictable. Get up, go to work, eat, go to bed. Hates variation.”
    And I’m nothing if not a variant.
    “And disruption,” Dewey added.
    She glanced at him and cocked a brow. “Yeah, I caught the drift the first time.”
    “ And distraction,” he added for good measure.
    She sat down to try on the boots, ignoring the comment. “Traumatic childhood?”
    “Adulthood.”
    There was nothing teasing in his tone; she glanced up sharply as dread sunk heavily in her stomach. “What do you mean?”
    Dewey’s lips parted, then he seemed to think the better of it and closed them, glancing away. “Not my place.”
    “C’mon. You can’t leave it at that .”
    “I can and I plan to, Jackson.”
    “Aww, please , Dewey? Pretty please?” She could be an irritating whiner, she knew, and already he was getting antsy.
    “Nope. Nothing from me. Just trust me on this one—don’t go poking around none.” Dewey backed up in a hurry.