"Or sold," I said. "Or traded."
"Either way, someone didn't want the proof to survive."
The room settled into quiet, the weight of it pressing down on both of us. Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the new glass I'd installed.
"I'm going to my parents' house this weekend," Claire said. "Sunday dinner. My mother's been asking since I got back into town."
I waited.
"I'll ask about the old breeding records. See if anyone remembers anything about Hollister horses from that time period. Maybe there's still paperwork somewhere."
"Your family's not going to like you digging."
"I'm not asking permission." Her voice stayed even, but there was steel underneath. "If Lois thought this mattered, then it matters. I'm not going to pretend it doesn’t just because it's inconvenient."
There it was again. That quiet, unshakable resolve that had nothing to do with the Hollister name and everything to do with who she was.
I should have left. Should have told her to be careful and headed back to my truck. Instead, I moved closer.
“You’re not digging into this alone,” I said.
Claire studied me for a second. “You don’t even know what we’re going to find.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I met her gaze. “I’m still here.”
The space between us shrank. I didn't remember deciding to close it, but suddenly I was close enough to see the faint line between her brows and the way her breath caught when I lifted my hand to her face.
"Claire." Her name came out rougher than I meant it to.
She didn't move. Didn't look away. I should have stepped back. Should have remembered every reason this was a terrible idea. Instead, I tightened my grip on her waist.
Then I kissed her.
Her mouth was soft and warm, and when she leaned into me, her hand coming up to grip my shirt, everything else fell away... the feud… the missing files… the town watching from a distance. None of it mattered. Just this. Just her.
When we finally broke apart, her forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing harder than we should have been.
"That wasn't very professional, deputy," she said, her voice soft and quiet.
"No, ma'am. It wasn't."
She smiled, and I felt it all the way through my chest.
Whatever this was, we'd crossed a line. And I wasn't walking it back.
CHAPTER 6
CLAIRE
The long driveway to my parents' house looked exactly the way I remembered it with fence posts lined up like soldiers, and the big barn sitting in the distance beyond the house. I parked near the side porch, cut the engine, and sat for a moment with my hands still on the wheel.
I could leave. Turn around. Text my mother that something came up with the estate paperwork. But I'd put this off long enough, and I was ready to get it over with.
The front door opened before I made it halfway up the walk. My mother stood framed in the doorway, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, her expression caught somewhere between relief that I’d actually shown up and the urge to reprimand me for staying away so long.
"You're late."
"The traffic was awful," I lied.
