"I know." He sets the basket down and spreads the blanket in the shade of a massive pine. "Used to come out here when I needed to think. After you left."
Something tightens in my chest.
He unpacks the basket—sandwiches, fruit, cold drinks,cookies that look suspiciously like Mae's recipe.
"Did Mae know about this?" I ask.
"She might've helped with the food." He grins. "And she might've told me I was an idiot if I didn't bring you out here."
I laugh and settle onto the blanket beside him. "Mae's a romantic."
"Mae's smart."
We eat slowly, talking about nothing important. The weather. The colt. Addie's nerves about the Classic. He tells me about Chace getting into an argument with a fence post that the fence post definitely won. I tell him about the woman from the next county who wants to board three horses if we have space.
"We might need to expand the barn," I say, reaching for another cookie.
"We could. There's room on the north side. Wouldn't be hard to add six stalls."
We.
The word hangs between us.
I don't correct it.
After we eat, I lie back on the blanket, looking up through the pine branches at the sky. Eli settles beside me, propped on one elbow, looking down at me.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing. Just—" He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "You look happy."
"I am happy."
"Good." His hand lingers, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "You deserve to be."
My throat tightens. "Eli—"
He leans down and kisses me. Soft. Sweet. Not urgent or desperate like it's been lately. Just tender.
I kiss him back, hands sliding up to his shoulders, pulling him closer. He settles over me, careful not to put his full weight on me, one hand cradling my face.
The kiss deepens. His tongue slides against mine and I make a soft sound, fingers curling into his shirt. He responds by pressing closer, his body warm and solid against mine.
His mouth leaves mine to trail along my jaw, down my neck, finding that spot below my ear that makes me gasp. His hand slides under my shirt, palm warm against my ribs.
"Eli," I breathe.
"Hmm?"
"Someone could—"
"No one comes out here." His mouth curves against my skin. "Just us."
His hand moves higher, thumb brushing the underside of my breast through my bra, and heat floods through me. I arch into him and he groans, low and rough.
"Hazel."
My name sounds like a prayer.
