“Of course, I’m okay. You and your mom need to stop henpecking me. I’m feeling good. Just ready for the warmer weather, that’s all.”
“Spring’s coming,” Jace assures Dad. “Groundhog didn’t see his shadow.”
“You don’t actually believe that nonsense do you?” I ask my brother.
“It’s science. Animals duck back in their holes if it’s too cold.”
“How about leprechauns?” I ask Jace. “Do they see their shadows?”
“How should I know? But I’ll tell you next time there’s a rainbow. How ’bout that?”
“Get me some gold while you’re at it.” Dad chuckles at his own joke.
Jace’s phone buzzes on the counter. I glance down before Jace swipes his cell away.
Cody:You got a minute?
Jace shoots me a look for snooping. I busy myself putting away groceries.
Cody’s on shift. I wonder what’s so important that he’s texting my brother while he’s at work. I turn away so Jace doesn’t see the truth on my face—that part of me wishes it were me Cody would text.
Chapter 6
Cody
A woman never looks better than on horseback.
~ Jane Austen
My days offare not officially free. When I’m on the ranch, there’s always something to do. I don’t mind. I love our ranch. None of my brothers have outside jobs. When I’m here, I want to bear my share of the weight.
Today, that means riding the fence line to check for winter damage. I saddle Jasper and mount him, riding at a gallop over hills and along flat pastures until we reach the section of fence line bordering the Buckners’. It’s later afternoon and the sun is dropping lower, shedding soft golden light. The late winter-short grass blows in the wind.
I climb a gentle slope toward the fence and pull Jasper to a stop, giving slack to his reins so he can bend to graze.
“What do you think, buddy? Should I shoot my shot?” I ask my horse. He ignores me.
“Captain,” I try the word on for size.
It’s not as if I’ve never considered a promotion. I just didn’t foresee the option coming up so soon. My life is a carefully arranged string of dominoes. Pivoting one tile will send the others toppling forward. Chain reaction or status quo? That’s the question.
I crest the ridge and glance up into the sky. My eyes drop to the blur in the distance—Carli—riding Lark, her Palomino quarter horse. They roll forward, rider and horse as one, cadence strong and sure—dark mane fluttering over blonde body. Carli rides low over the neck—her hair loose, blowing behind her.
Jasper pricks his ears and exhales sharply.
I’ve watched Carli ride my whole life. But this—this is different. She’s one with the wind and the sunlight. Abandoned to the ride like a dancer caught up in the music. She is freedom and beauty—a wildness to her that belongs to her alone. I hold my breath—as if even an exhale could alert her to my presence.
Something inside me stirs and settles at the same time. Jasper shifts under me, picking up on the way I’ve gone still.
I don’t break the moment. It’s hers. I’m an accidental intruder with every right to be here and no business looking as long as I do.
I rein Jasper in gently, breathing in time with him.
Carli slows. I’m not sure why. If there were bushes or a low-hanging tree, I’d hide. Unfortunately, I’m in plain view. Her gaze drifts across the horizon and then up the ridge. She rides on at a trot, but then turns and rides closer. Jasper shifts. I run my hand down his neck. He settles, but then he whinnies.
Carli’s gaze flicks around and lands on me. A smile blooms across her face and she waves. I raise my hand and wave back.
She rides over and says, “Hi.”
