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It's a good sign and settles me into the work. And for a moment, everything else about my new job fades into the background static where it belongs, which is what I need.

Today, nothing about this job feels normal. I've had the itchy, watched feeling crawling up the back of my neck since I pulled through that gate this morning. It's an instinct I've learned not to ignore around green horses, except there isn't a dangerous, bucking horse anywhere near me right now. There's just acreage, cold wind, and a barn that smells like leather and hay and something underneath it I can't quite place. Yet every time I breathe it in too deep, it reappears.

I've been telling myself all morning that the feeling's just nerves. New client, new territory, and three hundred thousand dollars' worth of pressure riding on two horses I'd never laid eyes on before this afternoon.

Hell, maybe it's from all the Halloween decorations that fill the yard.

Everything is fine, I tell myself.

Plus, the guesthouse is down the road but still on the ranch. My six-week-old daughter and my mother are in it, both of them depending on me to make this work. So that's reason enough for a knot in my stomach.

This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Don't screw it up.

Renegade took less time than Two-Step to assess. He was patient and cooperative once he understood I wasn't there to hurt him. Two-Step made me work a little harder to gain his trust, but once he settled into the cold laser treatment across his shoulder, he’s relaxed a bit.

Both horses have good bones and muscles, the kind that make a rehab case worth the money somebody's paying for it. But I'm still in shock they're paying me what they are for three months of work and giving me housing. So it makes me be extra diligent about proving I'm worth the risk.

I lead Two-Step through the wide barn doors and into the warmth. I get him into his stall.

"Hey, you must be Lainey?" a woman asks.

I turn.

She stands near the second row of stalls, petite and pretty, even in barn clothes. Her blue eyes pop, and her magenta hair flows long under a brown knit cap. She has a diamond nose ring, but it can't compete with the rock on her finger and the other bling on the complementary wedding band. It catches the light every single time she moves her hand.

"Yes," I reply, smiling.

"Hi!" She lights up like we're already friends, crossing toward me with an easy, open smile that doesn't match the sudden roar of blood in my ears. "So you're the miracle worker! I'm Phoebe. It's great to meet you!"

Phoebe?

My throat turns dry. Too much time passes.

"Everything okay?" she asks, furrowing her brow.

It's just a coincidence.

I force myself to smile, nodding. "Yes. Nice to meet you." I get the phrase out somehow, tying Two-Step's lead to the cross ties.

Please don't be her.

She leans against the stall door, watching me work with open curiosity instead of the polite distance most owners keep. She bubbles, "Thank God you're here. Jagger's been an absolute wreck since the storm. Whenever he's not working, he's pacing this barn staring at his horses like a man waiting on a jury verdict."

His name slams into my gut. I keep my hands moving on Two-Step's wrap, trying to not let my knees give out. I manage to get out, "Jagger?"

"Yes. These are his horses. Did Roy not tell you that?" she asks, pointing at Two-Step and Renegade while her diamond flashes brighter.

My voice cracks, "No. He just said, Cartwright."

Oh my God. This can't be happening.

I babble, "And that he's invested a lot in these horses," I manage, keeping my voice as professional as I can make it while my pulse tries to climb out of my throat.

She's so pretty.

"Oh, that's an understatement." Phoebe laughs, twisting the ring on her finger without seeming to notice she's doing it.

I stare at her.