I inhaled slowly through my nose. “We covered this in the kitchen.”
“I know, but?—”
“Graham.” I turned enough that he could see my face and read it clearly. “I said we’re past it. That means we’re past it. If you keepbringing it up, it stops being an apology and starts being about making yourself feel better.”
He went quiet. Not wounded, but thoughtful. Like he was actually processing what I’d said instead of just waiting for his turn to talk again.
Good.
But silence had its own problems when a man was riding beside me, close enough that I could hear the creak of leather and the rhythm of his breathing. Close enough to notice things I didn’t want to notice. Like the way his hands held the reins, confident but gentle, the kind of contact that saidI’m here but I’m not going to fight you for it.Like the faint smell of clean soap and cold air every time the breeze shifted.
Silly. I told myself it was silly.
We reached a scenic overlook where the trees opened into a sweeping view of foothills and distant peaks. The group murmured appreciation. Jamie actually gasped, like Colorado was personally trying to impress her.
Phones came out immediately, of course they did, and I watched Jamie angle hers toward me and Cassiopeia against the skyline.
“Filming scenery is fine,” I said, keeping my voice even. “No filming staff. That was in your waiver.”
Jamie’s smile flickered, but she pivoted smoothly, panning toward the peaks instead. “Of course. Sorry.”
Dex shot her a look that promised a conversation later.
I turned Cassiopeia back toward the trail, letting the others snap their photos. The mountains didn’t mind being filmed. Neither did the horses.
I just wasn’t interested in becoming content.
“Did you build all this yourself?” Dex asked.
I hesitated. “I bought the land and built the ranch in phases.”
“On your own?” Jamie’s curiosity was genuine.
“Not alone,” I said. “Hank’s been here from the beginning. Kaya and Denise soon after. Contractors for the buildings. But the vision—yeah. That was mine.”
Dex nodded like it made sense. “Takes grit.”
The compliment landed before I could deflect it, warm and unexpected.
Graham didn’t speak. He just sat there on Brutus, listening, and that, more than anything, made me relax a fraction. He wasn’t performing. Wasn’t trying to fill the silence with questions or compliments. He looked like a man who understood what it cost to build something from nothing.
“And the horses?” Olivia asked.
I swallowed. “I breed selectively. Not for racing. Not for show. Temperament. For therapy programs. For horses that can handle people who are scared. Horses that help.” I paused. “And horses that need a little help themselves.”
The words felt too honest the second they left my mouth. I straightened in the saddle and gathered Cassie’s reins a half-inch shorter, the physical equivalent of changing the subject.
Graham’s voice came low beside me. “That’s a good thing.”
I didn’t look at him. “It’s work.”
“Aye,” he said. “But it’s good work.”
He sounded like he meant it. Not flattering, not performing, just a man stating a fact he believed, and that was harder to dismiss than charm. Charm I knew how to handle. Sincerity made me want to bolt.
I shifted in the saddle, focusing on the horizon.
Clouds had thickened in the west, darker now, moving faster than they should. The light had gone flat. Less sharp, more muted, the kind of change that meant the weather wasn’t asking permission.
