21. Trent
Chapter 21
Trent
I stare after the woman as she leaves the garage, my eyes on her insane outfit. She looks incredibly out of place in her hot pink pants and vest as she walks away, a bright flower in the middle of a muted landscape. Her gait is off-kilter and a bit stiff, but I already know that's because of her leg. Gunnar made sure we all knew that we'd dropped the ball. None of us would have ever known. She doesn't exactly broadcast it, and Gunnar only found out by accident. At the time, I didn't think it important because I never planned to spend any time with her. Now, I'm just seeing all the things she could trip over laying around the garage. I'll have to clean it up if she's going to be coming back.
I hadn't thought I'd enjoy her being in the garage with me, but surprisingly, she's easy to talk to. And she'd seemed genuinely interested in my forge work. Even as she sat there sweating her ass off, she'd listened intently. She'd just pulled up her hair and leaned in further.
Colt appears around the door with a frown, his gaze on Fable in the distance before he looks back at me. "Did I just see Fable leaving your shop?"
"Yeah," I answer, looking down at the rings in my hands. They're just rings, but she'd gushed over them as if they were works of art. Somehow, they look a little better now after she'd described them. Just iron, but now something more magical.
I bet you'd make an amazing sword.
I've never made a sword, but I suddenly wanna know if I could make one. What it would look like. If she'd like it.
"You scare her off?" Colt teases.
"No," I grunt. "She's been sitting in here for hours."
Colt's brows shoot up. "And you let her?"
"She wanted to know about blacksmithing."
"Hell, I wanted to know about blacksmithing. You don't tell me shit, though," he growls, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Maybe if you were half as pretty," I shoot back.
It's true. Colt has asked to learn metal working but I can't stand company for too long. After a while of me trying to show him, he gave up. Unlike Fable, he can't just listen. He wants to show me better ways or tell me how I'm doing it differently than some random guy online said. My way works. Don't ask me to teach you my way if you think it's wrong.
Colt grins. "You like her."
"I don't like anyone," I grumble back, turning away from him. Sly chitters beside me, careful to avoid my boots.
Colt's grin widens. "You know we're going to the Boot Skoot tomorrow, right?"
"So?"
"You goin'?" he asks.
"I don't ever go to those kinds of things," I answer. "Too loud."
"Yeah, but Fable is coming. And I bet she's going to cosplay as something real nice."
I glance over at him. "Cosplay?"
"It's what she calls it, dressing up like it's Halloween. She's also into LARPing apparently. Live Action Role Play. She told me all about it." Colt levels me with his cold eyes. "Can't say I don't enjoy spending time with her, so I don't blame you. There's something so. . . unique about her."
I bet you'd make an amazing sword.
I blink and look over at the forge. "Yeah, I might come," I say after a few seconds and clear my throat. If Colt is circling her, I doubt I stand a chance, but. . . I did genuinely enjoy spending time with her. I'll go, only because I'm curious about the outfit she'll wear. That's what I tell myself anyway. Colt's expression turns smug. "It don't mean nothing," I growl. "I can just have a beer with my friends."
"Sure you can. You always have a beer at the Boot Skoot," he teases.
I throw my dirty rag at Colt, but he only dances way laughing, clearly amused. My eyes go out to Fable where she picks up a stick in the yard and throws it for Jethro. The border collie chases after it gleefully before bringing it back, proud of himself. She praises him and throws it again before waving to Colt as he jogs over.
I grab the apple off the side table where I'd left it earlier and take a bite. It doesn't matter. It's just a beer at the Boot Skoot. It doesn't mean anything at all.
I bet you'd make an amazing sword. . .