She nods, satisfied.
We pull up the long drive to the ranch. Home. Fences weathered by sun, horses flicking their tails in the pastures, the smell of hay and cedar drifting on the breeze. The place my father built, and I rebuilt.
Then I see her.
A woman standing near the porch, turning slowly, taking everything in. Sun on her hair, back straight, duffel and suitcase next to her feet. For a split second, my insides squeeze tight.
Then it clicks.
The new cook.
I’d forgotten she was starting today. That’s what happens when mornings start before sunrise and the rest of the daybecomes a blur of feed schedules, broken fence rails, and calls from vendors who can’t read a damn invoice.
Sadie gasps dramatically. “There’s a lady at our house!”
I park and get out.
The woman turns at the sound of the door shutting. Her eyes meet mine. Wide, wary, bracing.
She’s young. Not too young, but young enough that I wonder how she ended up taking a job in the middle of nowhere.
Her hair’s pulled back in a messy knot, strands escaping in the breeze. Her clothes are simple but neat. And she holds herself as someone who’s had to start over more than once.
“Boone Taylor?” she asks.
I nod.
She lets out a breath of relief.
“I’m Delaney Rivers. Sorry if I’m early. I wasn’t sure how long the cab ride would take.”
“You’re fine.”
Sadie darts to her side before I can say anything.
“Hi! I’m Sadie! Do you know how to make pancakes? Daddy tries, but they’re flat and sad.”
“Hey,” I mutter.
Delaney’s mouth lifts into the smallest smile. “I can absolutely make pancakes.”
Sadie claps. “And do you cook horses? Because we have lots of horses.”
Delaney laughs.
“No horses on my menu.”
Sadie beams, satisfied. A little of that tightness from the parking lot finally melts off her face.
I grab her backpack from the truck. “Come on. Let’s show Delaney the kitchen.”
Okay.
Sadie seems keen.
That’s… something.
CHAPTER THREE
