“Alright, out with it,” the husky voice broke through Forrest’s thoughts. He looked up from the knot he’d tied, the rope tethered to the sleigh to keep the spruce in place. Robin Gentry, weatherworn and mired somewhere in middle age had been with the ranch almost as long as Forrest himself and could be considered second in charge. A ranch foreman, so to speak.
“What?”
“Don’t think you can go fooling me. You’ve got something on your mind.”
Forrest opted not to answer.
That did little to deter Robin. “I’ve been around here long enough, boy, to know when something’s bothering you. And judging by the weight of the silence it’s because of that little man of yours.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Forrest straight up lied.
Of course his thoughts were consumed with all things Mica
