“Grant.” The man’s voice sounded like gravel and old tobacco.
Then his eyes lifted past Grant.
And landed on Izzy. She stood beside the cart, notepad tucked under one arm, her weight settled in that easy, intent way of someone watching a horse instead of a truck.
Everything in him stopped.
Izzy felt it immediately.
The color faded from Sam’s face as he stared at her standing beside the cart in the morning light.
Naomi glanced between them, her brow furrowing.
Grant frowned. “Sam?”
Sam blinked once, hard, like he’d forgotten where he was.
“Sorry,” he said quietly, though his eyes never left Izzy’s face. “For a second there, I thought I’d seen a ghost.”
The comment hung in the air.
Izzy gave a small, uncertain smile and stepped forward.
“Well, hopefully not a bad one.”
That seemed to pull him back into himself.
“No, ma’am,” he said quickly. “No. Not bad.”
Grant looked between them, confused now.
“Sam, this is Isabella Moreno. Izzy—Sam Talley.”
Sam removed his cap automatically.
“Pleasure to meet you.”
“You too.”
But he still looked shaken.
His eyes searched her face one more time—not rudely, but almost helplessly.
“You alright?” Grant asked quietly.
Sam let out a long, low sigh.
“Yeah.” A pause. “You just remind me of somebody from a long time ago.”
Something in the way he said it made the morning suddenly feel heavier.
Izzy softened immediately.
“Someone important?”
Sam’s expression changed then.
It was small. Quiet. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Veryimportant.”
