Page 61 of Saltwater Cowboy

“I have socks in my purse.” Rose dug in her bag and pulled out her socks.

“Oh, honey, those won’t work.”

Rose frowned, glancing down at her feet. “These will be just fine.”

I snorted. “Yeah, if you plan on getting blisters the size of quarters.”

She lifted her foot slightly, revealing the thin no-show socks. “These work fine with my sneakers.”

Brett let out a low whistle. “Not with boots, they won’t. Unless you want to shred your heels in the first five minutes.”

Rose groaned, already looking like she regretted every life choice that brought her here. “Great. Now I have to buy socks, too?”

I grinned. “Heavy socks. Thick ones. Preferably wool if you don’t want to be crying later.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Of course I do. Because nothing says ‘fun new adventure’ like suffocating my feet.”

Brett handed her a pack of boot socks. “Welcome to country living, city girl.”

Rose snatched them from his hands, grumbling under her breath. Something about this being the worst idea.

I smirked. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” She slipped the heavy socks on and then stomped her feet into the boots.

I grinned. “Welcome to the world of actual footwear.”

She shot me a glare. “These are horrible.”

I leaned in slightly, just to get under her skin. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna hate me even more when you realize you still have to break them in.”

Her groan echoed through the store, and I had a feeling this was only the beginning of my entertainment.

Brett gave her an approving nod. “Not bad. How do they feel?”

“Too tight.”

“Probably the socks.” I countered.

“Then I need mine.”

“I would highly recommend you don’t wear yours.” Brett added.

“You both are making this impossible!” Rose threw her hands up.

“We’re just lookin’ out for you,” I tried to mitigate the situation. I could tell she was pushed way out of her comfort zone.

“I promise ya they’ll stretch out.” Brett chimed in.

“Fine. I’ll take these stupid boots.” Rose poked my chest. “And you’re paying for the ugly ass socks, too.”

“Figured I was.”

Watching Rose slip on her first pair of boots brought a warmth to my chest I hadn’t expected. This city girl was about to embrace the cowboy life, and I could already see the transformation unfolding.

It made me think back to my own first pair of boots. I was just six years old when my dad took me to the same store. It’s been nearly thirty years since then, and a lot’s changed. Brett Jr. now runs the place, having taken over from his father, but walking through those doors still feels the same.

I can still remember the excitement buzzing through me as we walked into the store, the smell of leather thick in the air. Dad’s boots were well-worn, a testament to years of hard work put in the fields. I tried to stand as tall as him, my small hand gripping the edge of his jacket. We’d been out in the fields that morning, and I knew this shopping trip was a big deal—a rite of passage.