She lands with a small thud on the ground, her hands still on my shoulders as she breathes, “My boot slipped. I’m so sorry.” I’m out of breath, too, when I say, “Those boots aren’t doing you any favors.” “Yeah, well, I didn’t make them for riding.” I meet eyes with her again. “You really own a boot company?” “I really own a boot company, yes.” Her gaze flicks to her hands, and she blinks, dropping them. “My friend and I came up with the idea back in college.”
