She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. But they’re much too expensive.”
“Not for you.” He pointed at the boots. “Nocona is a good old Texas brand. Enid Justin got the idea to start herself a cowboy boot company about 1925 in Nocona. That’s a town not far from here.”
“Clever lady.” Misty stroked down the toe of one boot, feeling the smooth, taut leather.
“Cowgirls wear boots like those for rodeos.”
“Think I’ll just keep my feet on the ground.”
He chuckled. “That’ll work, too.”
“Why are cowboy boots made like this?”
“Think stirrups.” He pointed at the boot. “High heels won’t slip. Leather soles won’t snag. Pointed toes ease in and out. And a high shaft protects legs from brush and thorns.”
“They look good, too.”
He laughed. “Ranks right up there.”
She joined his laughter.
“Why don’t you see how they fit?”
She checked the size on the box. “You’ve got a fine eye. These are in my size range.”
“Good start.”
She set down the box and took off her athletic shoes. She tried to slide her right foot into a boot, but it didn’t work. “Something’s not right.”
“Try putting your fingers through the loops on the top sides. Pull up on the boot at the same time you push down with your foot. You want it snug across the instep.”
When she felt her foot slide home, she laughed out loud in triumph.
“Maybe we should’ve done this in the house where there’s more room.”
“It’s perfect in a pickup.” She pulled on the other boot, tossed her shoes in the box, and put it behind the seat.
“How do they feel?”
“Wonderful.”
“Glad to hear it.”
She picked up her sack from the floor and handed it to him. “And here’s a gift for you.”
He hefted the sack. “Kinda heavy.” He put one hand in the bag, fiddled with tissue paper, and pulled out the bluebird. “Real fine.” He held the bird up to the window so sunlight glimmered in the blue glass.
“Bluebird of Happiness,” she said. “It’s a symbol of good luck.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a lingering kiss on her lips. “I can use all the luck I can get.”
She could tell he liked the bluebird, so she was pleased with both their gifts. Truth be told, she was more than pleased with her Nocona boots. They were absolutely stunning. She glanced down at her feet and admired the boots.
He carefully rewrapped the bluebird and set it inside the center console. “You all set for a cookout?”
“Can’t wait to see your ranch.”
He backed away from Twin Oaks, turned down the lane, and headed toward Wildcat Road.
Misty clasped her hands in her lap. Despite everything—the gift, the kiss, the words—something about Trey was different today. She’d noticed it when he’d first walked toward her today. Nothing obvious. Yet she’d become so attuned to him in such a short time that she couldn’t help but be aware of it. She was also highly alert when she worked as a troubleshooter, so she focused on the smallest details. All in all, she felt a little uneasy.
She wished she’d driven her own car. She liked to be able to come and go as she needed so she was completely independent. But this was Trey’s show today and that meant she needed to accommodate him.
She didn’t say anything. He was quiet, too. Normally their silences were comfortable, but not today. She felt a building tension and couldn’t understand it. Maybe he didn’t really want to buy her the boots but felt obligated to keep his word. Maybe he regretted inviting her to his ranch. Maybe he was simply too busy to take time for her. She stopped her thoughts. She could think of a million reasons not to be in this place at this moment. Bottom line, she needed and wanted to see the ranch and learn more from him.
From her high perch in the truck, she watched the countryside as Trey turned onto Wildcat Road. He drove south away from town. She pretended interest in the view, but she stayed vitally aware of him as she watched him handle the big truck with ease.
And he still remained quiet. Maybe he was turning into the strong, silent type. But she knew better. He had something on his mind.
He turned off onto a wide asphalt road with gravel shoulders. She recognized the area. She’d driven down this road when she’d been scouting Texas Timber’s Christmas tree farms. Why would he bring her here?
On the right side of the road, barbwire fence enclosed open pasture where black cattle grazed on dried-out grass or stood in the shade of live oak trees. Everything looked as dry and dusty as ever. On the left side of the road, neat rows of cedar trees in size from seedlings to knee-high rose into the air.
“Came this way for a reason.” Trey broke the silence as he pointed to the left. “Christmas tree farm. Seen one before?”
“Not until the other day when I drove around this area.”
“Texas Timber already harvested the bigger trees for the Christmas season.”
“That’s the company?”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “Ever hear of them?”