“Come on.” He settled his palms at her waist, heart thudding, and guided her down until both feet touched the soft turf. She straightened and swayed.
“How can my knees be this weak?”
“We’ve been riding half an hour. Give them a minute.”
“I’m not sure I can face climbing back up,” she said, half laughing, half serious.
“I’ll help again. But unless you keep at it, next time will be just as wobbly.”
Aftyn sighed, then grinned. “I suppose I’ll have to have you come get me every Sunday.”
Cole’s chest tightened with something he couldn’t name. Their eyes met and held, but she looked away, tracing a pattern in the grass with her foot. He pressed his lips together and said nothing.
“You’re wasting your time,” he muttered.
“What?” She tilted her head.
“Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “Talking to myself.”
He unsaddled the horses and spread a woolen bedroll across the grass, smoothing it flat. From his pack he pulled the paper bag and two chilled bottles of water, handing her both a sandwich and a bottle.
She eyed it with suspicion. “This isn’t the mustard one, is it?”
“No.”
She took a cautious bite. “Mmm. So good.”
“Did you really think I’d switch them?”
She laughed, the sound tightening his throat. “I was hoping not.”
They ate in companionable silence, broken only by distant birdsong, the occasional plop of a fish at the pond’s surface, and Ollie crashing through the tall grass. When they finished, Cole tucked the wrappers into his saddlebag and produced two fishing rods and a tin of worms.
He assembled both rods, handed her one, then rose and took careful aim before flicking his wrist. The lure cut through the air and landed with a soft splash at the pond’s center, ripples spreading outward in slow circles.
“Nice cast,” she said.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He settled onto the blanket, legs stretched out, leaning back on his elbows. They watched the bobber sway on the glassy surface and breathed in the peaceful hush of the afternoon.
****
Aftyn forced her gaze to the pond’s ripplingsurface, but the sun kept catching Cole’s dark hair and green eyes in a way that made her heart clench. She focused on her sandwich until the last bite was gone, folded the wax paper into the plastic bag, and walked to the edge of the water. She gripped her rod, flicked her wrist, and sent the line arcing over the water. The hook landed short of Cole’s but far enough, skimming a patch of yellow-green algae before the bobber settled.
“Not bad,” he murmured, voice low above the whisper of wind through the reeds.
She bent her knees and rested her chin on them. A soft breeze carried damp soil and wildflowers from the bank. “My dad used to take me fishing all the time.” Her voice trembled slightly with it.
Cole’s broad shoulder grazed hers through their shirts. “You still miss him.”
“I do. My mother too.” Her fingers curled through the cool grass.
“How long were you married?”
She bit her lower lip. “Seven years. Divorced six months ago, but it was over long before that.”
“Seven years is a long time.”
She watched a family of ducks drift across the glassy surface, ripples fanning out behind them. “Yes.”
