I frown. "Don’t you need my phone?"
He actually laughs.
I’m about to hang up when he calls my name. “Lily girl?”
“Yes?”
His voice drops, rough and possessive. "You call me the second you're done. Thesecond. Understood?"
"Understood."
"I mean it."
"I know you do." I pull on my boots, phone tucked between my shoulder and ear. "I'll be careful. I promise."
He doesn't respond right away. Finally he says, "I'm trusting you."
The weight of those words settles over me. He's trusting me to take care of myself, to stay safe, to come back to him. "I know. I won't let you down."
"I love you, Lily girl."
I freeze, bent over zipping my boots up.
He chuckles. “Think about that while you’re on your call.”
And then he has the audacity to hang up.
I stare at my phone, my heart floating.He loves me.
A moment later, I get a text from him.
Mason Rivera
Tracker active.
Be safe. Come back to me quick.
Don’t you want to know if I love you?
Mason Rivera
Pretty girl, I already know.
That sure are you?
Mason Rivera
Of you? Yeah.
Huh.
Shaking off the Mason effect, I grab my veterinary bag from the corner of the bedroom, check that I have everything I need—gloves, lubricant, obstetric chains, antiseptic—and head out to my truck.
The morning is clear and bright, the kind of Montana day that makes everything feel possible. The ranch is quiet, and the horses are idling in the far field. I don't see Jake or Luke as I walk to my truck, which is probably for the best.
I slide behind the wheel, start the engine, and pull out onto the gravel drive.
County Road 12 is a straight shot east, cutting through open rangeland and scattered properties. The Whitehorse place is small—just a house, a barn, and a few acres of pasture. Lester is a good man who cares deeply about his animals.
