34
ROWAN
Amonth ago, the ranch had still smelled like smoke and ash.
Now, it smelled like fresh hay, new timber, and hope.
I leaned against the balcony railing, looking out over the land that was finally beginning to feel like home again. The sun was dipping low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and gold. The new paddocks stretched out below me, clean and sturdy.
Ready for my first group of kids to arrive in the morning.
My heart fluttered just thinking about it, a smile rising on my face.
The bunkhouse lights glowed softly in the distance. I’d just finished sending the new staff home after a full day of training, and every bed had been made, every saddle checked twice, every detail carefully prepared. Everything was ready.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I was genuinely happy.
Then I heard it—the low rumble of a bike. Ofhisbike.
My heart leapt before I could stop it and I turned, already knowing it was him.
Tex rolled up the drive, the setting sun catching on the chrome of his bike. He killed the engine, swung his leg off, and pulled off his helmet.
And just like that, my breath caught.
The worn jeans, the black cut, the quiet confidence in the way he moved, like he owned the ground beneath his boots. His dark hair was slightly windswept, his jaw rough with stubble.
He looked up and caught me watching and a slow smile tugged at his mouth.
My stomach flipped and I headed downstairs to meet him, trying, and failing, to act casual.
“You’re just in time,” I said softly.
“For what?”
I lifted the bottle in my hand. “Sunset.”
“My favorite time,” he replied.
He followed me up to the balcony and we settled side by side, glasses in hand, watching the sky melt into dusk. For a while, neither of us spoke.
We didn’t need to. The quiet between us had become comfortable and familiar. This had become our routine. At least most nights when he wasn’t busy at the clubhouse with something. Though I had noticed he was spending more and more time here than there.
Tonight, though, something felt different.
He seemed quieter than usual, more distant, and finally he exhaled and turned to look at me.
“I’m heading outta town.”
My chest tightened. “Why?”
“Another chapter needs help,” he said.
I nodded, trying not to let the disappointment show. “When will you be back?”
He shrugged. “I’ll be a couple weeks, maybe longer. I don’t know for certain. Never do with these things.”
The thick silence stretched between us. I fought to find the right words to say to him but settled on nothing because nothing seemed right.
