“Figured I could spare a minute.”
Something about the way he pauses, like even he isn’t sure why he’s still here, makes me glance up at him, but he’s already looking away, eyes fixated on the door.
Finally, my fingers close around the key, and I pull it free, unlocking the door with a quiet click.
"You can … come in?"
Ford steps inside his presence filling the space instantly. He marches past me, walking straight into the kitchen and depositing the bags on the counter.
Meanwhile, I hang the key on the small hook beside the door and turn, heading towards the kitchen. As I walk, I glance back at Buddy, who has seated himself just outside, his posture firm, almost like he’s standing guard. A beat of affection flickers through me—he really is a good dog.
Then, just as I turn my head back around, I collide, hard. A solid wall of muscle meets my face, firm and unyielding. The sudden impact knocks me slightly off balance, and for a split second, all I register is warmth and the distinct scent of aftershave. Strong hands grip my arms, steadying me instinctively before withdrawing just as quickly, almost like the touch had burned.
A small, startled noise falls from my lips, and I push a hand through my hair, tucking loose strands behind my ear as I glance up, finding Ford staring down at me. His expression is unreadable, but his nostrils flare slightly.
I swallow hard, trying not to let it show. "Uh … sorry."
He doesn’t respond, but his jaw shifts, and he looks uncomfortable for a moment. Not knowing what else to do, I step back, pointing vaguely towards the bags on the counter.
"Thanks … uhh … for that."
Ford breathes in, slow and heavy, like the whole interaction has thrown him off balance. Then, without a word, he shifts his stance and nodsonce. A small, almost imperceptible acknowledgment of my thanks. Like speaking would cost him more than he’s willing to give.
And as he steps around me, our eyes catch, just for a second. His gaze brushes past mine, something sparking there. Something subtle.
I hold my breath, unsure what to do with it.
Before Ford has the chance to step outside, Buddy lets out a happy bark, his tail wagging excitedly as if he’s just spotted an old friend. I watch, following the line of his stare, just as a woman appears at the door. Her long, dark brown hair catches the light, framing her tanned skin. She crouches slightly, reaching out to scratch behind Buddy’s ears.
"Hey Buddy," she coos, grinning at the dog before straightening and peering inside.
Ford, still mid step, stiffens when he sees her. His expression shifts into surprise before settling into something more neutral. "Missy?" he says, a note of incredulity in his tone. "What are you doing here?"
Instead of answering immediately, she steps further into the doorway, her full form now visible. She’s taller than me, her stature effortless yet confident. Her sharp green eyes, exactly like Ford’s, glint with amusement, and her full lips curve into a slow, knowing smile. The kind that could charm just about anyone if she wanted it to. She wears light jeans, snug but well-worn, and a fitted black vest top that accentuates the lean strength in her frame. A thick leather belt cinches at her waist, and on her feet, of course, are worn-in cowboy boots that have clearly seen their fair share of dirt roads and long rides.
With her hands perched on her hips, she tilts her head, feigning offense with a dramatic sigh.
"Nice to see you too, brother," she drawls, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.
Ford bristles, but there's no real anger on his face. It's the exact same reaction I used to have when my sister would purposely wind me up—thesame reaction I'm sure all siblings have. Missy’s gaze moves past Ford, landing on me with easy warmth. A friendly grin spreads across her lips, and she turns back to her brother, amusement dancing in her sharp green eyes.
"Actually," she says, tilting her head with a triumphant glint, "I came to say hi to our new tenant."
Then, without missing a beat, she shifts her attention back to me.
"Hey, I’m Missy! You must be Stormy, right?"
Her enthusiasm is genuine, her presence effortlessly inviting.
Ford glances between the two of us, his expression unreadable, like he’s suddenly aware he’s a third wheel but doesn’t quite know how to extract himself. A beat passes before he makes up his mind.
"Right. Well." He clears his throat, shifting his weight. "I’ll leave you to it, then."
He steps past Missy, already halfway out the door when she calls after him, "Bye, brother."
But then, her hand shoots out, catching his arm before he can fully disappear.
"Oh, wait," she says, "Mom was looking for you earlier. Said something about the cows in the back field wrecking one of the fences."
