Page 58 of Whiskey Proposal
I flip a ponytail off one shoulder. “I like it too.”
“And those.” She tugs at a frayed hem. “Can I have a pair?”
“I don’t know if this is peak sixth-grade fashion.”
She screws her face up. “I don’t care.”
I would’ve. I did, actually. I cared a whole lot. It was made clear every day that I wasn’t a classy cowgirl like the Hawthorne sisters. I didn’t have the brains to get the respect of the Palmer girls, nor did my parents donate to places across town. The middle school years were not the best ones for my dad to tap out of being a parent.
Hillary doesn’t need to develop that debilitating insecurity. “You know what? I don’t care either.”
Surprised, I mean it. I rub at the center of my chest. After all she went through in Denver, if she’s willing to rock the hillbilly look, then I’m only going to support her. I will buy Hillary a whole wardrobe of overalls if that’s what makes her happy.
“I bought these used, but we can see what we can order.”
Her smile is wider than a rainbow, and she takes off toward a cat slinking across the yard. The cat notices and darts for the trees, but Hillary’s undaunted and follows it right in.
“You have another cat?” I ask Brooks.
He scratches the back of his head. “Don’t know where the damn thing came from. Too wild to be dumped, but too tame to be a stray. Maybe she was someone’s barn cat that they dumped. I suspect she’s pregnant.” He shrugs. “I have a barn and a daughter who’s feeding her every day. Be good to get some more mousers around here.”
I do a three-sixty, taking in all the outbuildings that are on my five acres. “Not long, and it’ll be yours.”
“Thanks to you. By the way, I’ve gotta make another trip to Denver. I need to do the deep cleaning, and I’m not hiring out for it. Hillary’s going to help.”
The sale. The closing. The end to my marriage. “Oh, yeah. Thanks for letting me know.”
He lifts his chin toward Lane’s place. “He still cool about the chickens?”
“He said I could get turkeys, goats, and all the strays I want and he wouldn’t care.”
“You gonna keep testing him?”
I scowl. “I’m not testing him. I’m just showing him the real me.”
“You always did want a goat.”
“Saw a few for sale.”
He smirks and shakes his head.
“I’m heading to town for feed—”
“Because you thought he was going to make you get rid of them so you didn’t get much?”
I shrug. Brooks knew what I was up to when he helped place the shed. “Need anything?”
“Grab some for us.
“Will do. Hillary?” I call. “Want to run to town with me?”
Her face lights up. “Can I?” she asks Brooks.
“Wash up,” he says. Something our dad never reminded us to do when we’d been working with the animals.
“You’re a good dad,” I say quietly to him.
He only rolls a shoulder before I drive him away with the emotion. “Mind feeding her too? She’s been complaining about not getting to go anywhere.”
