Seth stepped out of the hardware store, a bag of fencing nails in one hand and his keys in the other. He blinked against the sun, scanning the street out of habit. Early June in Hazard meant sidewalks busy with locals swapping hellos, shop doors propped open to catch the breeze, and enough noise to remind him the town was alive. Same streets, same rhythm... only a few of the faces had changed.
One of the newest was about to cross the street in front of him.
Shylo had exited the bank, tucking an envelope into her purse. Her hair caught the sunlight long enough to make him forget what he'd come to town for.
She looked focused, unreadable—until she heard him call her name.
“Shylo!”
She turned toward him, and a brief flicker of surprise softened into something that might’ve been a smile.
“Hey, Seth,” she said with a small, hesitant wave.
He jogged over to join her. “Hey yourself. Didn’t expect to run into you.”
“Well, you did. Guess it’s your lucky day. Maybe mine too.”
He chuckled, shifting the bag in his hand. Truth was, he'd been hoping to see her. The last week and a half had left him more confused than anything.
Shylo laughed at his dumb jokes, teased him over text, and never seemed in a hurry to end their conversations. She acted as if she enjoyed spending time with him as much as he did with her. Yet whenever he hinted about getting together on one of her nights off, all he got was a smile and a vague, “Maybe,” or, “We'll see.” He couldn't tell whether she was trying to take things slow or quietly putting him in the friend zone.
It didn't help that their schedules rarely lined up. He worked days while she worked evenings, leaving only a narrow window to see each other after her shifts. Last Sunday, he'd finally thought they'd get a chance to spend an afternoon together, only for her to text that Lou needed her to pick up an extra shift at the bar. He couldn't blame her for wanting the hours, but he was still disappointed.
More than once, he'd spotted her truck at the Moody Moon Motel and had to resist the temptation to stop, find out what room she was in, and knock on the door. He didn't want to look like a stalker... but the desire to see her every day was getting harder to ignore. He couldn't remember the last time one woman stayed on his mind this much. Part of it unsettled him, while the other part wanted to know everything about Shylo and what made her so special.
“Today’s your day off, right?” he asked.
“Uh... yeah. It is.”
That was exactly what he'd been hoping to hear. “Good. I was thinking we were only ever going to see each other late at night.”
She gave him a small, apologetic smile. “Our schedules haven't exactly been cooperating.”
“No kidding.”
He could've left it there. Should've, maybe. But this was the first time since the barbecue that neither of them had to be anywhere right away, and he wasn't about to waste the opportunity.
He hitched a thumb in the direction of the Triple-R.
She shifted her purse from one shoulder to the other, that flicker of uncertainty he’d expected passing over her face. He knew she’d never been on a horse before, never even stood close enough to touch one, but hoped she was interested in learning how to ride.
He almost told her it was fine, that she didn’t have to, when she said, “Okay.”
It threw him for half a second. He’d been ready for a polite no, maybe a laugh to cover it. Instead, she met his gaze as if daring him to back out.
“All right.” A slow grin pulled at his mouth. He held out his hand for her to shake. “Let’s make it official, then. First ride.”
She took his hand. “First ride. Don’t kill me, though, and make it my last one.”
“Would never happen.” A thought struck him, and he glanced down at her feet. “Do you have boots?”
A small, almost sheepish smile spread across her face as she kicked a tiny pebble into a grassy area. “I... uh... picked up a pair at the second-hand store yesterday morning. Figured I might need them at some point. And I felt a little out of place without them.”
That caught him off guard—not the boots themselves, but the fact she’d thought about getting them at all. As if she wasn’t “just passing through” anymore.
“Let me go change,” she added, “and I’ll meet you at the ranch.”
“Sounds good. Park where you did the other day and come around to the back of the house. I’ll bring the horses out.”
