Layne leaned in, hand resting on her rounded belly. “There’s a delivery from the feed store.”
Brows arching, she racked her brain for what she might have ordered. Then she hurried to the porch. A single paper sack with the feed store logo sat waiting. She carried it inside, expecting supplies for the chickens or horses—only to find a jar of thick, golden honey. The farm name on the label was familiar, but she hadn’t ordered any.
Confused, she went back inside and called the feed store. “Hi, Cal. I think I got someone else’s delivery.”
“Don’t think so,” Cal replied cheerfully. “That bag had your name on it.”
Willow frowned at the blocky letters scrawled across the front of the sack. Her name, plain as day.
Ending the call, she turned the jar in her hands. Honey. Not something she needed, not something she remembered ever mentioning. But someone had sent it to her.
Unease curled low in her stomach. Her brothers would overreact if they found out—but it was just honey.
* * * * *
The barn doors yawned wide, spilling a wash of gray light across the pristinely clean floor. Decker paused at the threshold, fingers stroking the worn wood. His gaze caught on the slim figure moving with purpose inside.
Willow.
She was already halfway down the center aisle, braid bouncing against her back, boots scuffing softly as she passed each stall. He watched her slip into the second one—occupied by Serenity, if he remembered right. Juliette’s horse, which Theo had gifted her after bringing her to the Black Heart. Willow always kept a close eye on her, same as she did the rest of the herd.
The air carried the scent of straw and horse, but something else that smacked Decker square in the chest—Willow’s shampoo, or maybe vanilla-scented lotion. He’d caught hints of it last night when she was close enough to staple his shoulder back together.
The memory made his body throb, but not from the wound.
He lingered in the doorway, torn. He wanted to hear her voice, to thank her for what she did. To stare into her beautiful gray eyes and find a brand of peace that had been scarce in his life.
Since coming to the ranch, he’d spent a lot of time with Willow, both in horse therapy sessions and just helping with chores. The more he got to know her, the more he wanted to be in her calming presence.
His throat ached to call out to her and see her turn with a smile for him. But he knew he shouldn’t interrupt. She spent every hour giving—to the vets, to her family, to the horses—and maybe this was her one slice of quiet.
But his boots carried him forward anyway, slow and silent until he could hear the low purr of her voice as she soothed the mare.
“Easy, girl,” she was murmuring, her tone soft as velvet. “I know you miss her. But she’ll come visit you soon. She’s busy practicing violin for a big performance.”
Her cheek rested briefly against Serenity’s flank, fingers combing through the silky mane. Decker’s chest tightened.
Willow gave herself to every living creature on this ranch. He’d seen it a dozen times—the way she sat on the porch steps this afternoon with her coffee, barn cats piled over her lap while she stroked each one like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. Sunlight had caught the waves of her hair then, glinting gold, and he’d stood frozen in the yard like an idiot, unable to look away.
The mare nickered softly, nudging Willow’s shoulder with her velvety nose. Willow laughed—a sound so pure it made Decker’s throat go tight. She scratched behind the horse’s ears, completely absorbed in the moment, completely unaware she was being watched.
And here he was again. Watching. Making it weird.
This was why he usually avoided the barns during her rounds. Because watching Willow with the animals was like staring directly into the sun—it left him blind to everything else,burned images into his brain that he couldn’t shake for hours afterward.
It was everything about her. The gentle curve of her spine as she leaned into the horse’s neck. The way her fingers moved with practiced care, checking for any signs of distress or injury. The complete trust in every animal’s eyes when she was near.
He’d told himself he was just doing a sweep of the property, like he did several times a day. But that was bullshit, and he knew it.
He was here because she was here, the same reason he’d found himself at the Rusty Spur last night.
The same reason he’d stepped between her and that drunk asshole who couldn’t take no for an answer.
He shifted his weight, and a board creaked under his heel. Willow lifted her head, her gaze finding him instantly.
“Decker,” she said softly.
He turned to go.
