He nods, handing me a helmet. “No problem. I’ll give you a quick refresher, then you can drive it if you want.”
I take the handles as he walks me through the basics of how to operate the machine, his voice steady and calm as he guides me. Before long, we’re cruising through the property, Wilder riding behind me and pointing out landmarks on the ranch along the way. A few barns, a gate that’s housing two beautiful horses, and fencing that seems to go on for miles.
About five miles in, the trail opens to a breathtaking pond surrounded by tall grass blowing in the breeze. The water on the surface shimmers under the setting summer sun and there are ducks floating gently nearby. The sight stops me in my tracks. It’s like something out of a movie and in a weird way, it almost feels like being back in Pennsylvania in the farmlands with the rolling hills and not in the dry, Texas heat.
“Is this where we’re eating?” I ask over the hum of the engine.
“It is,” he says, flashing me a grin that’s pure boyish charm. He planned this and damn if that isn’t the most romantic thing a guy’s ever done for me before.
We park and climb off the 4-wheeler. Wilder grabs a blanket and a small cooler from the back, spreading everything out next to the water’s edge. The moment feels unexpectedly intimate, the fading sunlight painting the scene in gold and the whisper of the last bits of a breeze blowing through the trees around us.
“I’m not much of a chef,” he admits, pulling out sandwiches and a bottle of wine, “so I kept it simple tonight—cold cuts and something to drink. I hope that’s okay.” He flashes me a grin, youthful and confident, and I feel myself smiling back. All of this is perfect, special and I can’t think of a better way to spend the evening with him.
“It’s great,” I say, meaning it.
We settle onto the blanket, the soft sounds of nature filling the space between us as we dig in.
“So,” he starts between bites, “what made you leave Pennsylvania and head for Houston?”
I sip my wine, thinking back to that first spark of a dream I’d had as a child. “When I was sixteen years old, my dad and I visited the city once during the wintertime. I remember telling him on the way home, ‘One day, I’m going to live here.’And when I graduated high school, it just felt like the right time. I picked a college in Houston that had the biology degree I knew I’d need for vet school, and never looked back.”
Wilder nods thoughtfully. “Texas has a way of pulling people in. I’ve traveled outside the state a bit, but there’s something special about the sense of community and connection here. People tend to stick around once they’ve experienced the charm.”
“I get that. Plus, there’s a great vet school in Houston. I’ll be there for the next four years, and there’s a ton of opportunity here with all the diversity in animals that I’ll get to work with.”
“What made you want to become a vet?” he asks, his gaze steady on mine.
“I’ve always loved animals,” I say, my voice warming at the memory. “When I was a teenager, I’d follow our farm’s vet and his tech around whenever they came to check on the livestock we had. Watching them work was fascinating. Sometimes, they even let me help—giving vaccinations, administering antibiotics, those kinds of things.”
“They trusted you with that?” Wilder raises a brow, skeptical but amused.
“Technically, it was the vet tech who did,” I admit, pausing for a moment to remember how it felt the first time I cared for our calves when they were sick. I clear my throat, “The head vet would’ve been furious if he’d known.”
He raises a brow but doesn’t press further, effortlessly shifting gears. “What’s your family like? Is Shawna your only sibling?”
“She is, though technically, she’s my stepsister,” I explain, my voice softening. “My mom passed away unexpectedly when I was twelve—a really bad case of pneumonia on her alreadyweakened immune system. It shattered us. My dad remarried six months later to someone who… well, let’s just say she wasn’t very kind to me. She hated how close my dad and I were when she joined our family, and they fought constantly about it.” I pause, taking a sip of wine to steady myself. “But Shawna was the one good thing to come out of that marriage. We’re only two years apart, and we became best friends almost instantly.”
“Does she love animals as much as you do?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Not even close. She’s more the stay-inside-with-a-romance-novel type. She loved staying inside and devouring her mother’s novellas while I was outside, riding horses and running around the farm. I was my dad’s shadow for most of my life and I think that’s another reason me and my stepmother just never got along.”
He nods thoughtfully, and I enjoy the way that the sun’s shining off his Texas tanned skin. He looks so damn handsome out here lounging on the blanket, leaning down on one elbow asking me questions and listening intently. It’s the most that we’ve talked about ourselves and our pasts since we met and I can see whatever walls he’s had up in the last day have come down a little, even if he’s mostly asking about me.
“Did you get to watch Daisy’s performance last night?”
I smile and nod. “Yeah, I got back to my seat just in time to see her. She was amazing.”
“What made you stop riding? You looked like a pro.”
I pause, swirling the wine in my glass, watching as the crimson liquid catches the soft glow of the string lights overhead. The question lingers in the air between us, heavy but not unwelcome. Around us, the night hums with life—the distant croak of frogs, the occasional trill of a bird settling in, and the faint rustle of leaves in the warm evening breeze.
There’s something about this moment that feels… safe. Safer than it should, maybe. Like I can let my guard down a little more because Wilder is letting his down too. He’s more open tonight, his quiet demeanor shifting just enough for me to notice. He’s been more vocal, more intentional with his words, and I don’t want to let that pass unnoticed.
Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me right now—calm, steady, like he’s in no rush, like he could sit here all night and just listen. There’s no impatience in his gaze, no sense that he’s waiting for me to entertain him. He’s just… here. Present in a way that most people aren’t.
It makes me want to share more. To let him see parts of me that I usually keep tucked away, even though I know this thing between us is temporary. Just a weekend. Just a fleeting moment in the bigger picture of our lives. But right now, with the wine warming my chest and his quiet presence drawing me in, it doesn’t feel fleeting. It feels significant. So, I open up to him in a way I’ve never done with anyone else.
“After my dad remarried, I spent most of my time riding to escape the constant fighting that occurred at home. The summer I turned sixteen years old, I met Harrison Baker while in the fields. He was twenty years old and in school to be a vet tech while assisting our usual veterinarian on the farm. One month into working on the farm, he told me I was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Two months later, I thought we were in love. He was my first kiss and my first time. We’d steal kisses while he was supposed to be working and sneak off to do other things in my bedroom...” I trail off into a sigh, not meeting Wilder’s gaze anymore as I reflect on the summer that changed my life for forever.
