The sun sat low in the sky, a cool breeze making the long grass sway, the leaves on nearby trees whispering. It carried to Mica Daly—no, it’s not Daly anymore—strains of an upbeat country song and the chatter of voices. There was a right good shindig going on behind the big ranch house, partly in his honor, but feeling overwhelmed, Mica slipped away, hopefully unnoticed. He ducked into the barn, assaulted by the smell of hay and pine shavings, leather, and horses; the sorts of smells he hadn’t been familiar with eight months earlier.
Eight months…
Feeling light headed he sank down onto a nearby bale of hay, head hanging down. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on just breathing in and out. Panic threatened to seize hold of his heart, to make him choke on the air passing through his lungs. Mica pressed his hands against the side of his head, elbows digging into his thighs as he fought back the sudden urge to cry. Unshed tears burned behind his eyelids.
You’re supposed to be happy. Not having a complete meltdown in the barn. But eight months…
Mica rubbed his hands over his face and let his gaze wander over the stalls, most of them empty since the horses were out in the pastures. The only two current residents were a big bay gelding and a little buckskin mare. There used to be a time in his life when he wouldn’t have known the difference, they’d have been brown and golden, nothing more. There weren’t a lot of horses in the city where he was born and raised, where he spent twenty-seven-years of his life.
Right up until February of the current year when the company he worked for suddenly saw fit to transfer him. It might not have seemed like a big deal for some people, but he’d gone from car clogged streets and an apartment with paper thin walls to a city where cattle outnumbered humans. No more black tie galas or rubbing elbows with famous people. He had ditched his Italian suits, the fine threads hanging in the back of his closet with the obscenely overpriced loafers he used to sport. He still refused to wear cowboy boots finding them uncomfortable, picking out a pair of good hiking boots instead.
And the hat…
You have absolutely no problem with Forrest when he wears one.
Mica sighed, running a hand through his hair.
The barn door scraped against the ground. Opal Singleton, blond hair done up in curls, stepped inside. Decked out in a western style cream cut dress and cowboy boots she looked like she belonged on the ranch when in reality she preferred to strut around in heels and designer duds. She had been his best friend since they literally ran into each other in the school hallway during second grade. There was no one else he could think of from his big city life to invite out for the big day, aside from his parents and considering the way his dad reacted when he discovered Mica had given his heart to a guy…well, he wasn’t surprised to see they hadn’t shown up, though it did hurt.
“I thought I might find you in here.” Smoothing the flowing fabric of her dress she sank down on the bale at his side. “Hiding?”
“I needed to catch my breath.”
She reached over, taking his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. “It certainly has been a whirlwind adventure, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” the word came out strangled.
Opal rested her head on his shoulder, her hair smelling of strawberries and sunshine. “Right now you’re scared, but tomorrow I know you’ll be over the moon.”
Mica bit down on his bottom lip, something akin to a whimper escaping him.
She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, sitting up and prompting him to look at her, brilliant green eyes gazing into his lackluster brown. “I’ve known you a very long time, buster, and I have seen you fall head over heels before, though never for a guy,” a smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “And that’s how I know this, what you have with Forrest, no matter how quickly all the pieces fell into place, that’s how I know it’s the real deal.”
He could do nothing more than look at her with eyes wide, brow furrowed.
For some reason this prompted Opal to chuckle, patting the back of his hand. “The way you feel about Forrest, it’s all over your face every time you look at the man. Hell, even if you’re talking about him or someone else brings him up, you get all…” She gestured with her hand. “Smitten, lovey dovey, you know, that lovesick look young girls get.”
“Did…did you just compare me to a young girl?”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah, actually, I did and what are you going to do about it? You know I’m right, always am, especially when it comes to your love life.”
And that was one of the things that endlessly baffled him. Within one meeting Opal could tell whether or not a girl was right for him, though all things considered he’d been going out with the wrong gender. Unfortunately, she seemed unable to find a man of her own. Successful, fun loving, bright, and beautiful, she should have been rolling in dating offers, and yet her last relationship ended two weeks before his transfer.
