Then, he bows his head, takes a step toward me. Hesitates, resting his hands on his hips. “Didn’t know if you’d come.”
“I didn’t know if I was allowed.”
A flash of teeth, a steady smile—he crosses the distance to me. I hold my breath, walking on one side of the hops, him on the other, catching flickers of each other between vegetationuntil we meet at the end in pastoral fields stretching off toward the horizon in all directions.
“Good soil. Alfalfa proves it,” he says.
I nod, side-eyeing the cowboy—breathing in pine soap and that something darker I can’t get enough of. He’s taller than I remember, though it’s only been days. His face square-cut and rugged, his body a wall of muscle.
“Good water access. Fencing mostly decent.” He removes his hat, swiping the back of his hand over his forehead. “Strong windbreaks and the shelter of mountains mean it’s quiet most of the time. A natural shelter from twisters.”
“And these,” I say, finally finding my voice, striding toward the long lines of green. “Peas, beans, whatever. They grow beautifully.”
“Hops,” he says, warm eyes dancing over my face. “Nothing happens the first year. Growth takes time. Don’t see payoff immediately, but they come back stronger each season.”
We continue silently along the uneven ground. Only inches apart but not touching.
I push my hair off my face, fighting the welcome breeze. Just enough to cool the perspiration kissing my arms.
Maverick stops, eyes veering off to one side. Then, he gestures, drawls slowly, “Thinking alpaca stables over there where we can take advantage of the afternoon shade from the cottonwoods. And maybe,” he points to a spot not far from the ranch house, “a wool shop over there.”
The world slows.
Maverick nods, eyes simmering now. Smile boyish and unguarded.
My hand goes to my chest. My breath hitches, and a sting hits the back of my eyes.
His face goes serious, eyes washing over me. “I didn’t reach out because I didn’t want to be another voice deciding things for you.”
Instead of words, I step forward and take his hand. Our fingers tangle. A low chuckle rumbles from his chest as we walk toward the same horizon.
Epilogue
MAVERICK
Twilight whispers across the land like a breath. Crickets soft and insistent.
The last rays of the sun glow like burnished gold against distant silhouettes, mountains cut from the same black cloth as impending night.
The land’s quiet, the way only owned land can be.
Not conquered.
Or possessed.
Chosen.
My muscles ache, hip joint an angry memory. A full day’s work done. Steadying posts, testing line. Straightening, mending, building.
Behind me, the screen door creaks.
I don’t turn.
Don’t need to.
I always feel her before I see her.
Barefoot. Careful. Curious.
