They walked down toward the barn together, gravel crunching underfoot.
Halfway there, a blur of tan and white shot around the corner of the house.
“Steve,” Izzy said, already smiling.
The dog barreled straight for her, ears flapping, tongue lolling, nails scrabbling on the packed dirt. He skidded to a stop in time to bump his head gently against her thigh, leaning his full, trusting weight into her like she’d been gone for weeks instead of hours.
“Hey, buddy,” she murmured, crouching to scratch behind his ears.
His whole body wriggled at once, tail thumping against her calf.
“He missed you,” Caitlin said, amused.
“Clearly,” Izzy said. Steve tipped his head to press his nose into her palm, soaking up every second like he had nowhere else to be.
After a moment, he trotted ahead toward the open barn doors like a self-appointed escort.
* * *
The day was sharp and clear, the kind of North Carolina morning that made everything look more vivid than it had any right to.
Inside, the barn hummed with its usual quiet motion.
Steve padded down the aisle in front of them, giving one curious sniff toward each stall like he was making proper introductions.
Jose swept down the aisle with an easy rhythm. Another hand rolled a wheelbarrow past. Somewhere, a horse snorted, deep and content.
Caitlin veered toward the stalls like she’d been doing it her whole life.
“Oh,” she said, stopping in front of one. “Look at him.”
A paint horse, bay and white, had his head over the half-door, ears forward, one blue eye, one brown. The stall sign read: CODY.
“That one’s pretty,” Caitlin said. “Can we ride him?”
Before Izzy could answer, a familiar voice came from farther down the aisle.
“Don’t ride him.”
Grant stepped out of a stall, wiping his hands on a rag, hat low against the light, every inch the composed morning version of the man who’d had her against a wall last night.
Her stomach did a stupid little drop.
Steve abandoned his inspection of a feed bin and beelined for Grant, bumping his leg once before circling back to flop near Izzy’s boots, tongue lolling, as if to keep an eye on both of them.
“That’s Naomi’s baby,” he said, nodding toward Cody. “She raised him from a foal. She’ll gut me if I let you take him out for a joyride.”
Caitlin’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding.”
Naomi’s voice floated down the aisle from somewhere behind them. “He is not kidding.”
Izzy laughed.
“Noted,” Caitlin said. “Hands off, Cody.” She looked back at the horse, lowering her voice. “No joyrides for you, handsome. Sorry.”
“Ghost and Jasper are ready,” Jose called. “All set up.”
Izzy turned.
