She followed Rowan through the loading bay and into the store. The place was a maze of towering shelves crammed with sacks of feed, bridles, and buckets of supplements, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over everything.
A man in a dusty apron looked up from behind the counter, his face splitting into a grin when he spotted them. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he boomed, wiping his hands on his apron. “You picking up two orders in a row. I should buy a dang lottery ticket, or somethin’, dude.”
Rowan clapped him on the shoulder. “If you win, you’re sharin’ that shit. Horses are expensive.”
“You’d take food right outta my baby’s mouth if I let you, jerk face.”
The easy familiarity and mud-slinging between them told her this man was someone Rowan actually liked.
The man’s eyes flicked to her, warm but assessing. “Who’s this? Did you go an’ get yourself married up and forget to invite me to the wedding?” Humor laced his voice, “I’m insulted, Rowe. I thought I’d at least warrant a phone call or somethin’.”
The heat in the gaze Rowan sent her way made her heart race and her mouth go dry. Enya fiddled with the closest foal bridle, because if she didn’t distract herself from the scrutiny of both men she might not be able to stop herself from bolting out of the store.
If I start running, I might forget to stop.
“Just because you’re all kinds of loved up, Hay, doesn’t mean the rest of us are in that place yet.” Rowan winked at her. “This is Enya. She’s staying with us for a bit. So if she comes in for shit, put it on the ranch account.”
“You got it,” Hay replied. “Pleasure to meet you, Enya.” He cocked his head to one side as if trying to figure out if he knew her or not. “Hey, you’re the barrel racer, right?” He shot a quick glance at Rowan and cleared his throat. “I-uh…nice ta meet ya.”
“You too.” Seeing as he knew her name, he probably had read about what had happened in the papers, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with that.
An awkward silence stretched between them for longer than she would have liked, and she resisted the urge to scratch at her arms.
Thankfully, Rowan saw her discomfort and jumped in to rescue her. “Hay’s wife just had a baby girl,” he said, steering the conversation like a ship through rough water. “What’d you name her?”
Hay’s face lit up, the pride in his voice unmistakable. “Sarah-Jane. After my wife’s grandma.” He pulled out his phone, thumbing through photos before turning the screen toward them. A tiny, red-faced infant swaddled in a pink blanket blinked up at the camera. “Born yesterday morning. Six pounds, eight ounces.”
Enya leaned in, her breath catching. The baby was so small,so new. A strange ache unfurled in her chest. “She’s beautiful.”
Hay beamed. “Yeah, she is. We’re over the moon, although I think my wife is blind, because she says Sarah-Jane’s got my chin.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t see it, but I’m not about to argue with a woman who just pushed a human out of her without so much as a sniff of gas.”
Rowan laughed, the sound low and easy, and Enya found herself relaxing just a fraction. “Smart man.”
Hay tucked his phone away. “So, what you folks need? I got your order ready to load, but if there’s anything else?—”
Enya’s gaze snagged on a display of horse treats near the register. Her fingers twitched. “Do you have any of those in apple flavor?”
Hay followed her line of sight. “Sure do. Last bag on the end.”
The bag crinkled under her grip as she turned it over, checking the label.
Apple Molasses. Rain’s favorite.
Rowan’s voice was quiet behind her. “He’ll like that.”
She nodded, clutching the bag to her chest like a shield. “Yeah.”
Hay rang up the treats, then gestured toward the loading bay. “Y’all need a hand with the feed?”
Rowan shook his head. “We got it. But thanks.”
Ten minutes later, the truck bed groaned under the weight of the last sack of feed as Rowan slammed the tailgate shut.
Enya wiped her hands on her jeans and blew out a breath. She was out of shape, damn it. If nothing had put it into perspective before, dragging feed bags across the bed of the truck as Rowan lifted them from the pallet waiting next to the door did. It confirmed how much muscle mass she’d lost while she’d been wallowing in the doldrums.
Maybe it was time to locate all the pieces that made her Enya, gather them up, and start figuring out how they fit together now. She couldn’t keep on being a ghost haunting the edges of her own life anymore. Here, with the sweat drying on her skin and the Kentucky sun warm on her back, she felt almost like it was possible. She jumped off the truck, pushed her hands into her lower back, and pressed against her aching muscles.
Ow.
