“Sweet Jesus,” I whispered. I was fully, helplessly drooling.
My body responded — hot, fluttery, remembering the way his hands felt on my skin five years ago, what he’d done with his mouth, how safe and powerful he’d made me feel in the same breath.
Who would have thought I’d come back to life this fast? Who would have thought Liam would be the one to make my pulse remember what living felt like?
“Stephy!”
His voice carried across the yard, bright and warm and everything. When our eyes locked, he waved, but I just stared at him like a woman starved.
Because for the first time since LA, something inside me didn’t just feel human, it felt alive.
"Steph!"
I jerked upright, heart slamming against my ribs, spilling my coffee, “Shit! Hot hot…” Liam was jogging toward the porch, shirt thankfully back on, though it was sticking to him with sweat, which was almost worse. His hat was pushed back, concern on his face.
"You okay? Been calling you for a minute."
My face went nuclear. I could feel the blush from my chest to my hairline, and there was no hiding it. "I'm fine," I squeaked, my voice going stupidly high like I’d inhaled helium. “Just y’know”—I waved a hand towards the pasture—“enjoying the morning."
He slowed at the steps, and something in his expression shifted. His eyes dipped—pasture, porch, me—and then darkened for the quickest heartbeat.
He knew. Oh, heknew.
And instead of pretending otherwise, instead of rescuing my dignity like a gentleman, that man smirked. A low, knowing, curls-at-the-edge-of-his-mouth smirk that saidI saw you checking me out, sweetheart,andI liked it.
"Want to come see the ranch? Might do you good to walk around a bit."
"Yeah." I stood too fast and had to grab the porch rail. "Yes. Walking. Good."
Christ, I sounded like an idiot. But he just offered his arm, steady and sure, and I took it. The embarrassment faded as we walked, replaced by the comfortable familiarity that had always existed between us. This was Liam. My Lee. We'd been through too much to let one moment of reawakened hormones make things weird.
"So this is it," he said, gesturing at the land around us. "Five hundred acres of Texas. Not much compared to the Blackwood spread, but it's mine."
"It's perfect," I said, meaning it. "How long have you had it now?"
"Bought it three years ago with the inheritance from my parents. The life insurance and their savings—Owen invested it for me until I was ready. This place came up for sale, right next to the family ranch, and it felt like fate."
We walked past the barn toward a fenced pasture where several horses grazed. "I've got five horses now, forty head of cattle that I run with the Blackwood herd. Uncle Owen and I work them together, split the profits. It works out good—I can still do my Ranger work, and the ranch stuff fills the rest."
We walked along the fence line, morning sunlight breaking over the hills in ribbons of gold, everything soft and warm and impossibly peaceful.
Then I saw her.
A horse stepped forward from the herd—a breathtaking creature who looked like she’d been painted by angels and dipped in sunlight. Her coat was pure gold, not chestnut, but something richer, glowing from within. Her mane fell over her neck like spilled silk—white, bright, almost luminous in the sun.
And her eyes—God, they were unreal. Pale blue like a frozen winter sky.
“This,” Liam said, slowing like he knew she’d steal the breath from my lungs, “is Poet.” His whole demeanor shifted—softer, warmer, reverent in a way a man like Liam only ever showed around things he loved fiercely.
Poet lifted her head higher, assessing me with those impossible blue eyes, curious and unafraid.
“She’s… she’s the prettiest horse I’ve ever seen,” I whispered.
Liam smiled—small, proud, almost shy. “Yeah. She’s something else, isn’t she? Born at the main ranch four years ago. Golden coat, white mane…true palomino. Louisa said she looked like a storybook horse. And those eyes—rare as hell. Knew she was special the second I saw her.”
Poet stepped closer, elegant and sure, nose reaching toward his hand like she belonged there.
“She’s got spirit,” he continued, stroking her neck with a tenderness that made my heart twist, “but a sweet side too.”
