She’s breathless, windblown, and the smile on her facewon’t quit. It hits me harder than it should. I look down for a second, pretending to work a twist out of Jasper’s reins.
“What are you doing out here?” she asks me.
I lift my eyes and meet her gaze. “Actually, I’m riding the fence line. You?”
“Clearing my head,” she says. “It’s been a while since I turned Lark loose.”
I nod. “Nothing like a good ride.”
She smooths her hand down Lark’s mane and neither of us says anything for a beat. I shouldn’t notice the way her unruly hair frames her face or how her eyes still shine from the run, but I do. I’m not sure what she sees when she looks back at me. We stare at one another, a shadow of her smile still lingering. I shouldn’t want this moment to stretch out indefinitely.
“I’d better …” I say, at the same time as Carli says, “Well, I’m going to …”
She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and it springs free.
We both laugh and she huffs out a soft breath. Something in my chest pulls tight.
I glance down the fence line and say, “I need to get to work while there’s still light.”
“Yeah.” She tips her head in the direction of her home. “I’d better get back. The feed bags won’t top themselves.”
A low laugh slips out and I say, “I hear that.” I give Jasper a nudge and glance at Carli one last time. “See you around, Chuck.”
“See you, Cody,” she says, making a clicking noise to Lark and turning in the other direction.
I pivot on my saddle and watch her take off down the ridge and across the pasture.
I ride on along the fence line, slowing Jasper to a trot, my eyes scanning every wire and post, looking for sags or signs ofrot. But my mind won’t stay on the job. Instead, I see her—wild and free, hair flying, eyes bright.
I check fences until the sun drops low on the horizon, trying to fit my feelings back into a box behind my ribs where they belong.
Then I take my own ride, hard and fast toward home, only slowing when the barn is in sight. I walk Jasper into his stall, unsaddling him with deliberate hands. I brush him down, using each steady stroke to ground myself.
I’m a Lawson. She’s a Buckner. We’re going to stay on our sides of the fence line. That’s how it needs to be.
I’m dumping and refilling Jasper’s water bucket when Jace walks into the barn.
“Sorry it took me a bit to get over here,” he says. “Things have been busy. We’re prepping the farrowing stalls and stepping up health checks.”
“That sounds way too familiar to me. Everything else takes second place during calving season too.” I shake my head and add, “We’ve gotta get out more.”
He chuckles softly. “Agreed. Let me know when you figure out how that works for guys like us.”
“I plan to figure it out,” I assure him.
“So, your messages sounded like you wanted to talk about something,” he says, cutting to the point as usual.
“Yeah. I did.” I hang Jasper’s water and lead him to it. Then I run a hand down his spine checking for hot spots or anything out of the ordinary.
I pause, looking Jace in the eyes. “Captain pulled me in the other day.”
“Yeah? Did you do something to bring that on?”
“That’s where my thoughts went too.”
I step past Jace, grabbing the pitchfork to loosen a flake of hay. I take it to Jasper’s stall, throw it into his feeder and top it with a scoop of grain.
Brushing my hands off and parking the pitchfork next to the hay bales, I slide Jasper’s stall door shut and lean back against the barn wall.
