"Yeah, you did." Hunter studied me for a moment. "It's good to have you back, Ivy. Whatever the circumstances."
The simple acceptance in his voice made my eyes burn. "Thanks, Hunter."
He nodded and left, and I finished packing up in silence. As I walked back to my cabin, the ranch settling into evening routines around me, I felt something I hadn't expected—a tiny spark of belonging.
It was dangerous, that feeling. I was here to do a job, not to reclaim a place I'd forfeited years ago. But as the lights came on in the main house and I heard Louisa calling everyone to dinner, that spark flickered stronger.
Tomorrow, I'd continue the work. I'd process samples, analyze data, create breeding recommendations that would transform this ranch's future. I'd maintain professional distance and ignore the way my heart raced every time a truck that might be Wyatt's came down the drive.
But tonight, I sat on my cabin porch and watched the fireflies dance in the gathering dark, and I let myself remember what it had felt like to belong here. To be part of something bigger than profit margins and corporate ladders.
The memory hurt as much as it healed, which seemed about right for everything involving Copper Creek.
Everything involving Wyatt.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard a horse whinny—probably Tempest, who'd always been vocal at sunset. The sound carried on the evening air like a reminder that some things hadn't changed, even if everything else had.
Including me.
Especially me.
But maybe that was okay. Maybe the woman I'd become could do something the girl I'd been couldn't—face the past without running from it.
Tomorrow would tell.
Chapter 6
Ivy
The knock on my cabin door came at 6 AM sharp, just as I was finishing my second cup of coffee and trying to convince myself I was ready for this day. I knew who it would be before I opened it. Owen had informed me yesterday that Wyatt would be giving me a “comprehensive tour” of the current operations. The way Wyatt’s jaw had clenched when his father announced it at dinner—which I’d attended despite every instinct screaming at me to hide—told me exactly how he felt about the assignment.
“Morning,” he said when I opened the door, the word clipped and professional.
He stood on my small porch looking everywhere but at me, his hat shadowing his face, hands shoved deep in his pockets like he was afraid of what they might do if left unsupervised.
“Morning,” I replied, matching his tone. My voice sounded steady. My pulse wasn’t. “Let me grab my things.”
I collected my notebook and phone and tried to collect my composure while I was at it. Today would be hours of close proximity to him—breathing the same air, sharing the same sunlight, trying not to remember how it used to feel when that air and sunlight were wrapped around us. I could handle it. I was a professional.
The fact that he still smelled like leather and sunshine and everything I’d been missing for years? That was beside the point. Completely beside the point.
“I know you’ve already worked in them some, but we’ll start with the breeding barns,” he said as I joined him outside. “Work our way through the facilities, then ride out to see the pastures.”
“Sounds good.”
We walked in silence toward the barns, the morning already warming with the promise of another hot June day. Every few steps, his shoulder brushed mine, and each time it sent a small, traitorous spark down my spine.
Ranch hands nodded as we passed, and I caught a few curious glances. Everyone probably knew this was awkward as hell, but they were too polite—or too smart—to say anything.
Still, the air between us hummed. Quiet. Charged. Like the moment before a summer storm breaks.
The breeding barn was state-of-the-art, a far cry from the simple structure I remembered. Wyatt walked me through it with the efficiency of someone who'd given this tour before, pointing out the hydraulic squeeze chutes, the climate-controlled semen storage, the laboratory setup that was actually better than what I'd brought from Dallas.
"Hunter designed most of the upgrades," he said, his voice neutral. "Implemented them over the last five years."
"It's impressive." I jotted notes, keeping my own voice professionally detached. "The flow pattern is particularly well thought out. Minimizes stress on the animals."
"That was the idea."
