Page 8 of The Spice Is Nice

Theshop went silent but for the hum of the register. A truck passing outside. The faint sound of the espresso machine whirring through the shared wall with The Copper Cup. Not much noise ever came from the opposite shared wall with the bank. I stood behind the counter as my old wounds opened up. They had never really closed at all.

That was what she was afraid of? Not that I’d work too hard or burn out or drop a ball. But that I’dleave. One morning she’d come by the shop and find the lights off and the door locked and a note on the counter, or worse, no note at all, just the empty space where her sister used to be.

Daisy had lived through that once. She had every right to be terrified of living through it again. When I had left with Seth years ago, I thought it was love. She didn’t approve of my leaving, especially so soon after our parents died. She called me selfish for not staying to help her with the shop, our ranch and orchard, and our younger sisters.

The worst part wasn’t only staying away with Seth, but not reaching out to my sisters at all. When I finally left him and returned to town, it took quite a bit of groveling and time to make up for it.

So yes, I’d earned that fear she held close to her heart. I’d bought it and paid for it with every mile I’d put between us and this town when I was young and stupid and grieving and convinced that the fastest way to stop hurting was to run off with a man who treated me more like a possession than a lover. But understanding it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“It scared the hell out of me to see Seth at Ash’s wedding earlier this summer. I thought you’d leave again,” she admitted.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I assured her. “I know you don’t fully trust that yet, but I’m still working to prove it to you every single day. Daisy, I’m here now, committed to running this shop. And I’m going to do all I can to save this town and somehow put on a Friday night event with only four days to pull it off, and the only place I’m running is back and forth between here and the Sapphire until my boots wear out.”

I let a beat pass, then tilted my head and gave her a look that was pure Ivy, the version of me that knew how to land a punchline even when my chest was aching. “And when they do wear out, I’ll sell myself that pretty new red pair at cost. That’s the beauty of owning a boot shop.”

Daisy stared at me with that steady, all-knowing gaze she’d inherited from our mother. Then she exhaled through her nose, shook her head, and sort of laughed. At least, something in her expression loosened just enough to tell me we were okay. Not resolved. But okay for now.

“Friday night,” she said, pushing off the counter and heading for the door. “I’ll be there. Shoot me a list of things you need help with. But if Knox shows up in that ironed shirt, I’m leaving.”

“If Knox shows up in that ironed shirt, I’m putting pictures of him on the shop’s social media.”

The bell chimed as the door swung shut behind her, and I stood alone in the shop, the quiet settling around me like a coat. For a moment, I pressed my palms flat on the counter and breathed, as if I could feel our parents’ heartbeats still ticking here.

They had started this shop together, back when the town was bigger and the foot traffic on Main Streetactually justified a retail lease. Dad kept the ranch going, and Mom had hoped the shop would bring in extra income.

After their accident, Daisy had hired Mrs. Landon, their longtime assistant manager, to keep it running while the rest of us tried to figure out how to keep breathing—each in our own way. Mine had involved climbing onto the back of Seth’s motorcycle and disappearing with him.

Mrs. Landon had been ready to retire by the time I came crawling back, which helped my case when I sat across from Daisy at the kitchen table and asked her to let me manage it. She handed over the keys and said,“Prove to me I’m not making a terrible decision.”

I’d been proving it every day since. I needed this place to be evidence that I could be trusted with something precious, that the girl who’d torn out of this town in a cloud of dust and bad decisions had come back as someone worth believing in. Some days, the town believed me. Some days Daisy did. I almost believed in myself.

Today, men in folding chairs had voted to trust me with something bigger than boot sales. Friday night, I’d show them they were right.

I flipped the shop sign on the door to OPEN and got to work.

Chapter 4

Temporary State

Colt

“Bullshit. You’re fucking going,”Knox cursed at me after I announced I wouldn’t attend Ivy’s first Cowboy Night at the Sapphire Saloon. Not only did I have no interest whatsoever in this matchmaking scheme, but I’d just finished cleaning out the stall for a new horse we took in today that was in critical condition.

Silver Lightening, an old winning racehorse that a rancher had once bought and bragged about, but neglected as he aged, had been in a barn fire last night a few counties over. The horse barely got out alive—and reportedly had kicked open the doors and saved several other horses before the barn caved in.

The horse was hailed as a hero. Which was far from what I felt like today, of all days—the anniversary of the tragedy onboard the USS Hilton. The one where I tried to prevent an accident, but unlike Silver, the accident happened anyway. Could I have done more? The guilt had plagued me ever since, but I tried keeping myself busy to not think about the specifics of that tragic daytoday.

The dappled grey with a black mane and tail came to us with a respiratory problem from all the smoke inhalation. Dusty had put him on anti-inflammatories and other treatments after his vet visit, but the next few days would be critical. If Silver made it through that, it’d be about two weeks or so before he would recover.

When I gazed into Silver’s eyes, they held more depth than I’d seen in others. Like he was aware of how far from grace he’d fallen, from a champion racer to an aging nobody, to suddenly a hero who saved others, but fighting to stay alive now.

He had captured my attention right away. Here on the ranch, we knew how horses seemed to take fondly to certain persons. Well, Silver took to me, following me around the paddock. He only calmed during Dusty’s vet inspection when I was with him.

I could identify with him. Especially today, three years since the tragic accident on board the USS Hilton that claimed the life of my best friend.

Silver coughed, and I welcomed the interruption in my thoughts again so I didn’t think about the life of a young man that was taken too early.

“The respiratory issues Silver has concern me. I should stay,” I yelled over to Knox, who was checking over schedules at the barn desk.