Straight Stalk by Tera Lynn Childs

Author:Tera Lynn Childs [Childs, Tera Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-9904605-1-0
Publisher: Tera Lynn Childs

“How about these?” Bryce asked as he held up a pair of turquoise and magenta cowboy boots decorated with rhinestones and rosette stitching.

Not precisely mature straight guy wear.

Surely Anthony’s had some less outrageous styles.

“I think Ray needs less turn it up and more tone it down.” Browsing through pair after pair of cowboy boots—Chris had taken one look at the miles of stock and run back out the door, saying he would get the mushrooms he needed and then meet us out front—I pulled out a pair of black ones. “Black goes with everything.”

Bryce snapped his fingers, bringing an eager young salesman in his wake as he came to take a closer look.

“Details, Wyatt,” he demanded.

“B-black lizard,” the nervous Wyatt answered. He didn’t take his eyes off Bryce, even as he recited the major bullet points. “Black Teju lizard foot. 13 inch full height. Cushion comfort insole. Black welt stitch.”

Bryce took the right boot, holding it up for closer inspection. He inhaled deeply, like he was testing the scent of the leather. “More.”

Wyatt’s eyes grew wide—in what looked like fear—but he continued. “Hand rolled. Hand-pegged steel shanks—”

“Comfort?”

“Like walking on a cloud—”

“Lifespan?”

“With the proper care?” Wyatt asked, then answered desperately, “Forever.”

Bryce scrutinized both the boots and Wyatt, his green eyes squinting first at one then the other. I watched, feeling like I was seeing a master at work. Of course, with his work history—dotted with the likes of Colette Couture, Bradford’s, and Ferrero—he was a master. He probably knew more about men’s fashion than almost anyone.

With one last squint to evaluate Wyatt’s own choice in footwear—a pair of cream colored alligator boots that matched his cream colored jeans and the fringe on his denim shirt—Bryce smiled and grabbed the left boot from my grasp.

“We’ll take ‘em,” he announced, shoving them into Wyatt’s chest.

Boots in hand, Wyatt raced to the register.

Bryce turned to me, eyes bright with excitement. “And now,” he said, “it’s my turn.” His eyes scanned the store. “So many boots, so little—” Gaze frozen over my left shoulder, his face fell. He backed up two steps, then muttered, “I’ve seen enough boots to last me a lifetime. I’ll be out front.”

He spun away and hurried out of the shop.

One second he was keen on boot shopping for himself, the next he was out of the store. I turned to my left, wondering what could have set him off like that.

All I saw was a young woman with curly red hair checking out a pair of pink ladies boots.

Though I was, of course, appalled by her choice in footwear, I didn’t see anything disturbing enough to send Bryce racing out of the store.

The woman looked up, her bright brown gaze pinning me to the spot. A scorching fury filled her eyes. And it was directed at me. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but I certainly didn’t know her. And certainly not well enough to earn that kind of scorn.

Who did she think I was—

“Three-forty-seven ninety-nine,” Wyatt announced from the register.

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