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Dolly nickers and twitches her tail as Hattie steps into the stirrup, swinging herself up into the saddle. Dolly canters slowly around the corral and then straight for the jump. The mare steps over the pole easily without pausing.

Hattie looks over at me, her expression so excited I can’t help but smile—the jump is barely four inches off the ground, but still.

“Well, you two are at it early today,” Hank’s voice calls from across the corral. I look over to find him on the other side of the fence, resting both elbows on the top rung. “Looks like it’s going pretty well.”

“Dolly is a natural,” Hattie tells him with a wide grin. She tugs on the reins, communicating with Dolly. Dolly trots around the paddock once more and slowly steps over the jump.

The third time, Dolly stops abruptly in front of the jump and stubbornly raises her head in the air. Hattie chuckles and jerks the reins, steering Dolly away from the jump and toward me and Hank.

“I think she’s had enough for today.” Hattie smooths her hand down Dolly’s long neck. “Thank you for the equipment,” she tells Hank.

He waves a hand. “Oh, no big deal.”

Hattie turns away to slide off the mare and Hank glances at me. I arch an eyebrow, and he rolls his eyes.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he whispers through the side of his mouth.

For as wealthy as Hank Daniels is, he’s frugal to a fault. Dropping a few thousand dollars on something frivolous is definitely a big deal to him.

Hank climbs over the fence and reaches for Dolly’s reins; Hattie lets him take it. “I’ll untack her. Why don’t you two head inside for some hot cocoa? Dad’s cocoa is the best.”

Glancing at Hattie, I notice how red the tips of her nose and cheeks are. I’m so used to the Montana chill; I hadn’t worried until this moment that she might be freezing her tail off, but her teeth are chattering.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were cold? We could’ve tried the jumps later once it warms up.”

She shivers. “Oh, stop fussing. I’m fine. The feeling in my hands will be back soon.”

Before I can lecture her, she takes off in a full run toward the main cabin. “Last one there has to clean Rocky’s stall next week!”

With a smile, I take off after her, the cold wind whipping against my face. Halfway between the paddock and Hank’s cabin, I wonder when the last time I chased a woman was…

By the time I make it back to our farm it’s midmorning, and I’m late for breakfast. I slip inside quietly, toeing my boots off and hanging my hat on a hook. I run a hand through my hair to get rid of the hat-head, then walk into the kitchen where my siblings and Tripp are already sitting around the dining table and eating in their usual spots. I guess Wayne only mixes up the seating assignment when Hattie is here.

I nod my head toward my siblings and head toward the stove where some kind of egg, hash brown, sausage casserole is calling my name.

Poppy clears her throat. “Where have you been?”

I turn to find all three of them staring at me.

Wayne’s eyes widen, then he gasps dramatically. “Are you having a walk of shame right now? Holy shit, I’ve been waiting for this day. I’m so proud.”

Tripp scrunches his nose. “What’s a walk of shame?”

Poppy shoots a glare at Wayne. “Nothing, Buddy. Eat your casserole.”

I roll my eyes, scooping a giant slice of casserole onto a plate, then pouring myself a mug of coffee and carrying them both to my place at the table. “I went to the ranch early to work on a project for Hank.”

Wayne’s head swivels toward the clock on the stove. “Yeah right. It’s nine in the morning.” He smirks. “You were with Hattie, weren’t you? Living the dream, bro. She is some kind of gorgeous. Her face and her⁠—”

“Enough.” My fist lands on the table, rattling everyone’s silverware. “Don’t disrespect her like that.” I flex my hand and force my shoulders to relax, wondering where that sudden outburst came from. “Hattie, or any other woman, for that matter.”

Is it too early for a drink? Wayne really tests my patience some days. “I went in early so I could be back in time for breakfast, okay?”

The three of them stare at me, wide eyed. Tripp is frowning, and I instantly feel terrible for raising my voice like that. But the insinuation that I’d have a casual hookup with Hank’s daughter put me on edge. I’m not that guy, the kind to have a fling, then leave the next morning.

Hattie deserves better than that, anyway.

Better than me, better than Montana.