He reached past her to the dash, fingers brushing the controls.
“Key stays here,” he said. “Forward, reverse. Brake’s a little soft, so give yourself space.”
Izzy stepped closer to see what he was pointing at.
Closer than necessary.
He didn’t move back.
His arm rested along the back of the seat as he leaned in, showing her the controls. The faint scent of soap reached her again—clean, citrus, familiar now.
She had noticed it last night in the bathroom without thinking much of it.
Different now.
Noticed. Registered. Filed somewhere dangerous.
“This one sticks a little,” he said, tapping the gear. “Ease it into place.”
“Okay.”
She cleared her throat. “And I won’t accidentally launch myself into a pasture?”
He looked at her.
“If you do, the horses will survive.”
“That’s comforting.”
A flicker touched the corner of his mouth.
He stepped back, giving her space.
“Go ahead.”
Izzy slid into the driver’s seat, hands settling on the wheel.
“Alright,” she said. “Let’s see what happens.”
She eased it forward.
The cart rolled smoothly.
“No casualties yet,” she called over her shoulder.
“Low bar,” he said, stepping up onto the side rail and then into the passenger seat beside her without asking.
She cut him a look. “You’re supervising.”
“For everyone’s safety.”
“Of course.”
Steve trotted after them for a few steps, then peeled off toward the barn and Naomi like he’d already punched in for his shift.
They moved out across the yard, the barn falling behind them as the property opened up.
It was bigger out here.
