I pulled my hair forward. "It's the sun."
“No, it’s not. You're obviously rattled by something.”
I stopped walking and turned to face her. "I am notrattled. I am handling a very full day on a very busy ranch, and I don't need?—"
"You literally just put your sunglasses on, and it's overcast."
I took the sunglasses off.
Ivy softened, dropping the teasing. She reached out and tugged the end of my braid the way she'd done since we were kids. "Hey. I'm not trying to wind you up. I just..." She shrugged one shoulder. "You've been running so hard for so long. And I saw the way you came back from the barn earlier. That wasn't yourmanaging the workloadwalk. That was yoursomething got under my skin, and I'm pretending it didn'twalk."
"Those are the same walk."
"They are absolutely not the same walk, and you know it." She studied me for a beat, then held both palms up in surrender. "Fine. I'll drop it. But if you ever want to talk about...horses..." She loaded the word with so much meaning it practically buckled under the weight. "I'm here."
"Goodbye, Ivy,” I sang and walked off before her prodding actually worked, and I told her everything.
"Love you too," she called after me, and I could hear the smile in her voice all the way across the yard.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of determined productivity. I reviewed breeding schedules, finalized equipment orders, and had a long conversation with a feed supplier about bulk pricing that I absolutely did not need to have but kept my mind occupied for forty-five minutes.
I caught glimpses of Jack throughout the day—across the paddock, near the barn, walking with Clay toward one of the rotten fences. Every time, he was working. Focused. Professional. Not once did he seek me out, or linger where I might find him, or do anything that could be read as pushing.
It was maddening.
Clay found me near the equipment shed as the light was going gold, because apparently everyone in my family had decided today was Let's Check On Maggie Day.
"You look like hell," he said cheerfully.
“Thanks,” I deadpanned. “Shocking how you haven’t found a good woman to settle down with yet with that level of charm.”
"I mean it, Mags. I haven’t seen you like this since—” He frowned, glancing around in thought. “Since ever.” He leaned against the shed, arms crossed, studying me with more concern than I’d seen from him in a while. "Want to talk about it?"
God, not him, too. “Sure don’t.”
"Cool. I'm here if you change your mind." He pushed off the shed and started walking away, then paused. "Oh, and Mags?"
"What?"
"The new guy. Jack." Clay scratched the back of his neck, squinting out toward the south pasture. "I like him. Worked the fence line with him this afternoon. He's a good guy." He said it simply, the way Clay said things when he meant them—no filler, no performance. "Quiet, but... I don't know. Good energy. Feels like he belongs here."
I kept my face very still. "Good. Glad he's working out."
Clay looked at me sideways. That slow, knowing look he'd inherited straight from Momma. "Yeah." He let the word sit there a beat too long. Then his mouth twitched. "Anyway. Night, Mags."
He sauntered off, leaving me standing in the fading light with my pulse doing something I refused to examine.
Clay hadn't said anything. Not really. Just that he liked the guy. That Jack fit.
So there was absolutely no reason for my hands to be shaking.
I locked my cabin door that night.
Stood in the middle of my living room, surrounded by the lingering ghost of Jack’s presence, and told myself I'd made the right call.
The sheets had been changed. The pillow fluffed. Every trace of Jack Remington was systematically erased from my space, as if I could pretend last night never happened if I just cleaned thoroughly enough.
It didn't work.
