It’s official! If the Boot Fits has released. YeeHaw! I’m so excited to share book two in my Texas Ever After series with you. I thought you might enjoy a sneak peek into the story itself, so without further ado, may I present Asher and Samantha . . .
I’m sorry, Pop. I’ve tried everything I can think of to fix this, even a few things I’m ashamed of, but there’s no putting it right. The house is gone.
Nothing to do now but make the new place as habitable as possible before he left. Which was why he reined Bruno to a halt in front of Patterson’s Hardware. If he was going to weatherproof Mama Bess’s roof, he was going to need some supplies.
A bell rang as he entered the shop. The clerk behind the counter glanced up from the customer he was assisting and smiled.
“Afternoon, sir.”
Asher fingered the recently reshaped brim of his hat. “Afternoon.”
“Farm implements are along the back wall. Ironware to your right. Carpentry tools in the center. Cutlery and kitchenware to the left.”
“Much obliged.” Asher strode toward the center aisle in search of nails. He’d probably have to special order the shingles he’d need, but—
A pile of wiggling pink froth stole every thought from his head as he rounded the corner and stepped into the aisle.
It was a woman—obviously—but what she was doing, he had no earthly idea. Hunkered down in front of a display of chisels, she seemed to be trying to peer beneath the shelving to view something in the adjacent aisle. Asher eased backward, took a couple steps to his left, and peered down the next walkway. A pair of men stood about even with her position, discussing the merits of whitewash versus paint.
Not exactly the type of conversation to entice an eavesdropper.
Inching back to his right, he found the female where he’d left her, only this time she held two gloved hands along the bottom of the shelf, as if measuring the length of something, though the spread of her hands failed to match any of the items housed on the nearby shelf.
Deciding it might be best simply to pretend he didn’t see her, Asher turned his gaze away and stepped into the aisle. Unfortunately, his elbow clipped a dangling hand saw and sent it flying off its nail and onto the floor. The woman gasped and lurched to her feet, spinning toward Asher as he gave chase to the runaway saw.
Her cheeks flushed pinker than her dress and her eyes darted to him then past him as if checking to see if anyone else had witnessed her odd behavior.
Instinct prompted Asher to look over his shoulder. See if anyone was there. But he didn’t. He couldn’t seem to look away from her.
Blue. Her eyes. Summer sky blue. Rimmed with thick lashes. And returning their attention to him.
Feeling his own cheeks heat, Asher held up his hands in apology. “Sorry to startle you. I . . . ah . . . accidentally knocked it with my arm.” He took a few steps forward and bent to retrieve the errant saw.
“That’s all right.” She offered a shaky smile and ran a hand down the front of her dress.
Asher straightened, the saw clutched awkwardly in front of him. Say something, you dolt!
“I’ll just . . . ah . . . put this back.”
Ugh. Something intelligent, Ash.
He sidled down to the front of the aisle where the other saws hung, keeping her in his peripheral vision. His mind spun but failed to grip anything worth saying out loud.
“Are you . . . interested in carpentry?”
Her downturned gaze jerked up to meet his, a hint of guilt playing about her face. Had she been staring at his feet? Why would a woman wearing a dress that probably cost more than his saddle be interested in a worn-out pair of boots? Wait . . . had that been what she was looking at while she’d been hunched over? The boots worn by the men on the next aisle over?
“Carpentry?” Tiny lines etched her forehead. “Not particularly. Why?”
He grinned, feeling more himself now that he had the upper hand in the conversation. He tipped his head toward the shelf beside her. “You seemed quite enthralled by those chisels. I thought you might be a hobbyist.”
“Ah, yes. Well. My father has a birthday coming up.” She fiddled with a bit of lace at her cuff.
“And he’s a carpenter?” He really shouldn’t derive so much pleasure from teasing her, but it felt good to let go of his worries for a few minutes and flirt with a pretty girl.
“A rancher, actually, but tools are always handy to have around, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would.” He grinned. “A ranch can never have too many chisels.”
Her lips twitched and amusement gleamed in her vibrant eyes, but she managed to keep it contained. Unfortunate, since he found himself intensely curious about what her laugh would sound like once unleashed.
“Everything all right back here?” The clerk who had greeted Asher from behind the front counter hurried into the aisle, his smile strained. “I heard a crash.” He scanned the shelves, no doubt looking for evidence of an avalanche.
“Sorry,” Asher said. “That was my fault. I clipped a saw with my elbow. The stray’s been wrangled and is back with the herd now, though, so no harm done.” He nodded to where the saw hung, nice and tidy.
The clerk, however, didn’t bother looking at the cutting-edge display. His attention remained riveted elsewhere. Not that Asher blamed him. What fella wanted to look at saws when there was a blonde beauty a few feet away?
“Miss Dearing? Are you sure there’s nothing I can assist you with? I’d be happy to lend you my expertise.”
Asher’s ears rang. Miss Dearing? As in Samantha Dearing? The pampered princess he’d flattened when jumping out of her daddy’s study window? The one whose little brother nearly drowned trying to chase him down?
Had she recognized him? Slowly, he turned his face away, thankful for the distraction of the overzealous clerk. He hadn’t recognized her, but then he’d not seen her up close that night. But what if she had seen him? In the study, or after he’d leapt from the window.
Breathe, Ash. It had been dark. A boy had been drowning. She’d had other concerns on her mind. Plus, no recognition had registered in her eyes while they’d been talking. He would’ve seen it with as hard as he’d been staring at those blue beauties.
But what if it wasn’t his face that gave him away. His gut tightened as her interest in men’s boots suddenly made a dreadful sort of sense. If she’d found the boot he’d dropped . . .
Asher yanked his fingers away from the hand saw he’d been pretending to inspect. He needed to get out of here. Now.
Lengthening his stride, he left the carpentry aisle behind and made a beeline for the door. Shingles and nails would have to wait. He couldn’t chance being recognized by the one woman in town who could send him to prison.
I hope you enjoyed this excerpt.
You can grab a copy of If the Boot Fits from your favorite retailer.
Amazon | Baker Book House | Christianbook
