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Brett grabbed a pair off the shelf and held them up. “What about these?”
She eyed the boots warily. “Are those… pink?”
I lost it, laughing outright as her face twisted in pure horror. “Oh, this is too good.”
Rose shot me a glare that could have set fire to the barn. “I don’t like you.”
I smirked. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna hate me even more when you realize you have to break them in.”
Her groan was downright theatrical, and it just made my morning even better.
Brett, clearly enjoying this way too much, plopped a stack of boxes in front of Rose. “Alright, princess. Let’s find your Cinderella moment.”
She frowned at him before nudging a box with her toe. “Do any of these not look like something out of a country music video?”
Brett ignored her dramatics and flipped open the first lid. “Classic brown. Simple. Reliable.”
Rose wrinkled her nose. “Boring.”
I grinned, leaning against a nearby shelf. “You just said they were all too much. Now they’re boring?”
She shot me a withering look. “I’m a woman of mystery, Mr. Orange.”
“Mr. Orange?” Brett cocked a brow.
“Don’t ask.” I smirked.
Brett sighed and grabbed another box. “Alright. How about these?”
Rose stared at the pair in his hands. “Are those snakeskin?”
“Yep. Fashion meets function,” Brett said, wiggling them.
Rose took a step back. “I’m not walking around with dead reptiles on my feet.”
I chuckled. “You’re in the South, Sunshine. You’re lucky they’re not still alive.”
She huffed, brushing past Brett to grab a box herself. Lifting the lid, she let out a long, suffering sigh. “Why is there green embroidery? Who asked for this?”
Brett smirked. “People with taste.”
She shoved the box back onto the shelf. “Next.”
After vetoing everything with fringe, rhinestones, or what she dramatically deemed “unnecessary boot flair,” she slumped onto a nearby bench. “This is hopeless.”
I shook my head, reaching down to grab one of the last boxes in the stack. “Try these.”
Rose eyed me warily, as if I was setting her up. But when I pulled out a simple, well-worn pair of brown boots with just enough scuff to give them character, she hesitated.
She ran a hand over the leather, her brows furrowing. “These aren’t the worst things I’ve ever seen.”
I smirked. “We’re getting somewhere.”
Brett clapped his hands together. “Let’s see if they fit.”
Rose took them, muttering under her breath as she attempted to slide them on with her bare feet. “These stupid freakin’ things won’t go on.”
“You just need the right socks,” Brett piped up.
