The silence that follows is loaded with surprise and something that might be pride.
"About damn time," he says finally. "We'll be there Christmas morning. And Wyatt? I'm proud of you."
After we hang up, I walk through the barn one more time, seeing it through new eyes. Tomorrow night, this space will be filled with community and laughter and Christmas magic. But more than that, it'll be the place where I finally stop hiding from the possibility of happiness.
Emmy Sinclair walked into my life three weeks ago to treat an injured foal. Instead, she might just save me.
The thought doesn't scare me as much as it should.
Chapter 8
Emmy
Ican't stop replaying it.
The brush of Wyatt's thumb across my cheek yesterday, rough calloused skin against mine, the way his storm-gray eyes lingered like he was one second away from kissing me. The keys to his barn were heavy in my pocket, weighted with trust and possibility.
And then the step back. Always the step back.
Now I'm sitting in the clinic office with a mug of lukewarm hot chocolate, staring at architectural sketches for the barn space instead of the intake forms I should be reviewing. Outside, snow falls steadily, coating Hope Peak in fresh white that makes the Christmas lights sparkle like diamonds.
I should be thinking about work. About Mrs. Patterson's diabetic cat or the vaccination schedule for the Murphy's new puppies. Instead, all I can think about is Wyatt Callahan and how my body lights up every time he gets too close.
The bell on the front door jingles, pulling me from my thoughts. Carly breezes in carrying two steaming cups and wearing a grin that spells trouble.
"Emergency cocoa delivery," she announces, setting one down in front of me. "You looked like you needed backup when I saw you through the window."
"Just planning the barn renovation," I say, hoping she doesn't notice the flush creeping up my neck.
"Right. Because thinking about construction makes you glow like the town Christmas tree." She flops into the chair across from me, eyes sparkling with mischief. "This is about the grumpy rancher, isn't it?"
I groan, pressing my forehead to the desk. "You're insufferable."
"Adorable," she corrects. "And right. Spill. What happened?"
Before I can deflect, my phone buzzes with a text from Wyatt:
Wyatt
Crew finished early. Barn's ready for your equipment whenever you want to move it.
My pulse kicks up just seeing his name on the screen. "I need to go to the ranch."
Carly's eyebrows shoot up. "Now?"
"He said the space is ready." I'm already grabbing my coat, trying to ignore the way my hands shake slightly. "I should check it out, start planning the setup."
"Mmm-hmm. And this has nothing to do with wanting to see Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding again?"
I don't answer, which is answer enough.
The drive to Dry Creek takes twenty minutes, but it feels like hours. Christmas music plays softly on the radio, and I pass houses decorated with lights and wreaths, families building snowmen in their yards. The whole world feels like it's preparing for something magical, and I wonder if I'm included in that magic or just an observer.
The ranch looks like a winter postcard when I arrive. Snow covers the fields in pristine white, and smoke curls from the main house chimney. The barn stands silhouetted against the gray sky, looking solid and purposeful and somehow more welcoming than before.
I find Wyatt inside, checking the new electrical outlets Matty's crew installed. He's wearing dark jeans and a gray sweater that hugs his broad shoulders, and when he looks up at my approach, those piercing eyes hit me like a physical force.
"You came fast," he says, straightening.
