Then looked away.
The sound came from outside.
Low at first.
Then louder.
An engine.
Izzy straightened, watching the barn doors as the noise grew, gravel crunching under heavy tires.
A truck rolled into view.
Big.
Dual rear wheels.
Clean in a way that meant it was taken care of, not unused. The trailer behind it matched—sleek, polished, with a painted scene stretching across the side. Rolling pasture. Fencing. A line of horses in motion.
And a name.
Hollis Ridge Farm.
“Well,” Izzy said quietly, “that’s not subtle.”
Grant didn’t answer.
The truck idled, then cut off.
A moment later, the driver’s door opened.
Callum Hollis stepped down like he had nowhere else to be.
Tall. Easy confidence. Dark hair pushed back, sunglasses catching the light. Worn jeans, boots, a button-down rolled at the sleeves.
He moved around the front of the truck, already looking toward the barn?—
—and then he saw her.
He stopped.
The grin that followed wasn’t shocked so much as delighted, like the universe had handed him a bonus round.
“Well, well,” he said, pushing his sunglasses up as he walked in. “What do we have here?”
Izzy felt the attention land.
Grant stepped forward, already taking the lead rope Callum handed him.
“Horse first,” Grant said.
Callum didn’t take his eyes off Izzy.
“Grant,” he said mildly, “you cannot expect me to ignore this situation.”
Grant’s jaw tightened—barely. Not enough for anyone else to notice. Enough for him to.
He didn’t answer.
