Copyright © 2026 Samantha Leigh

This book is a work of fiction created without the use of artificial intelligence (AI) technology. All names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without written permission from the author.

Without limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this book to train AI technology to generate text and content is prohibited.

Cover design by Echo Grayce at Wildheart Graphics

Editing by VB Edits

Proofreading by Nice Girl, Naughty Edits

A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of Australia

ISBN: 978-1-7643089-5-3 (paperback)

ISBN: 978-1-7643089-4-6 (e-book)

For those who dream of a second chance at a life or a love we let slip through our fingers...

This one’s for us.

Contents

Author’s Note

1. Daisy

1. (Then)

2. Daisy

3. Beau

4. Beau

4. (Then)

5. Daisy

6. Daisy

6. (Then)

7. Beau

8. Beau

8. (Then)

9. Beau

10. Daisy

11. Beau

12. Daisy

12. (Then)

13. Daisy

14. Beau

14. (Then)

15. Beau

16. Daisy

17. Beau

18. Daisy

18. (Then)

19. Daisy

20. Daisy

21. Beau

22. Daisy

23. Beau

24. Beau

25. Daisy

26. Beau

27. Daisy

28. Beau

29. Beau

30. Daisy

31. Beau

32. Daisy

33. Beau

34. Daisy

35. Beau

36. Daisy

37. Beau

38. Daisy

39. Beau

Epilogue

Join the Samantha Leigh Readers Group

Also by Samantha Leigh

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Author’s Note

My books are low on angst and big on feel-good vibes, but they occasionally touch on topics that may be difficult for some readers. Darlin’ features child abandonment, representation of grief, explicit language, and adult themes.

To see a complete list of content warnings for all my books, including Darlin’, please visit my website at samanthaleighbooks.com or scan the QR code below.

And most importantly, take care of yourself.

xSam.

one

Daisy

(Then)

It’s late in the day and I’m tired, but I rally with a roll of my shoulders. I have a loose but secure hold on the lead rope in my hands. On the other end, a light-coated gelding plants his hooves and refuses to move. His ears are pinned, and his breathing is heavy, but there’s something soft in his eyes, and I can’t give up on it.

“See? Lots of release,” I say to Ken, the fifty-something owner of this ranch on the South Island of New Zealand. “He needs to feel safe before he trusts us.”

Ken, who watches from the fence line of the corral, doesn’t need my commentary. The man knows as much about horses as I do, and explaining my process is like telling a sailor that water is wet. But he’s a good guy and listens like he might learn something. When I asked for a shot at getting this beauty under control, Ken said yes faster than I thought he would. Now’s my chance to prove he did the right thing.

The gelding moves forward, taking two tentative steps in. It’s a glimmer of progress coming after twenty minutes of groundwork, but as my heart and hopes lift, he swishes his tail and twitches before tossing his head toward the lead rope and taking it into his mouth.

“I admire your persistence,” Ken says, sighing like he’s given up, “but he’s not right for us. He hasn’t been right since the day he got here, and it’s not going to change.”

“But—”

“He hasn’t adjusted to the new environment.” Ken gives me a comforting smile. “It’s nobody’s fault, Daisy—not yours and certainly not his. It’s just one of those things. I appreciate you trying to help, but we can’t give him any more time. I’m going to have to move him on. I’m sorry.”

“But it’s only been three months.” I allow the lead more give and watch the gelding respond. He continues to chew the rope. “He’s confused, and you can’t punish confusion. Another month, and he’ll come around.”

“If I had the time to spare, I might agree with you, but I need you in the stables and on the trail rides—not in the yard training a horse who doesn’t want to be trained. We bought him for a reason, Daisy, and that was to be a mount for our tourists. That’s not going to happen. He’s a bad investment.”

My fingers tighten around the rope. “How can you say that?”

“He says that,” a voice cuts in, “because it’s true.”

I spin at the intrusion and find a guy who must have entered the yard without my notice, standing off to the side where I couldn’t see him. In dirty jeans and well-worn boots, he’s tall and imposing, with shoulders thick from hard work and his T-shirt fitting like a second skin. His face is shadowed by the brim of his hat… until he lifts his chin.

My irritation turns to butterflies, which only makes me more annoyed. He’s beautiful, with a clean-shaven jaw and defined cheekbones, intense brown eyes balanced by thick eyebrows, and an intoxicating masculinity that’s tempered by a full mouth. Judging by the width of his chest beneath those folded arms, the southern drawl, and the arrogant stare, he’s a textbook cowboy. And I’m not in the mood for it.

“You want to say that again?” I demand.

His eyes light up and his lips twitch. I scowl as my body is jerked to the side. My gelding is on the lead rope, and it forces me to lose my balance. On the plus side, it’s enough to break eye contact with Mr. Cocky. I shift my attention, intent on correcting the horse. When no amount of soothing or prompting will coax him forward, I step in and turn his nose to encourage him to move back.

When I’ve got him under control, I resume scowling at the cowboy. “Well?”

The asshole smirks. “Sure. The horse is a bad investment.”

“And who asked you?”

His eyes grow warm with silent laughter and the kind of confidence that makes my stomach flip.

“You did, Darlin’.”

That smooth, slow voice, that ego, that face… It all makes my legs shake, and I lock my knees in place to compensate.

“He’s a good boy,” I say. “He just needs more time to prove it.”

“Or perhaps this is a horse who’s learned he doesn’t have to do a damn thing you ask.”

I cut to Ken, who watches us with an invested tilt to his head, and I take it as a sign to keep fighting.

“He’s been pushed too hard,” I say. “He’s shut down. Anyone who knows horses can see that.”

“Anyone can see a horse who won’t listen.”

The gelding shakes his head, an aggressive toss that tells me he’s reached his limit.

Mr. Cocky lifts a smug eyebrow. “Not every horse deserves a second chance.”

I swallow past my fluttering pulse and let irritation give me strength. “This one does.”

When the gelding breaks again, I’m forced to give him my full attention. It takes a minute, but soon, the horse is calm again. Mr. Cocky’s expression changes. His jaw is firm, and those liquid brown eyes turn distant before regaining focus.

“Mind if I give it a go?”

I squint up at him, wondering if he’s serious, then hand him the rope. “Go for it.”

I stalk over to the fence and stand beside Ken, noting that some of the other stable hands have gathered to watch, and my cheeks flame.

Right from the outset, the cowboy’s approach is nothing like mine. It’s quieter and more direct. There’s no talking, no soothing, just pressure and timing, and his intention is clear within minutes. The cowboy is all about structure and purpose, setting expectations in a battle of wills. My gelding is too stubborn for that. It’s never going to work.

The horse’s tail swishes. He tosses his head and kicks his hindquarters. The cowboy meets every challenge, cutting him off, expecting deference, then demanding even more.

“He’s pushing too hard,” I murmur as my palms start to sweat.

“No,” Ken disagrees. “He’s not.”

I glance at him, unsure whether he means to criticize me, then turn back to watch the show. For five long minutes, the horse resists and the cowboy stands his ground. I start to wonder if he’s onto something. I want my gelding to prove he has what it takes to stay, so I should be rooting for the cowboy to succeed, but there’s no time to be gracious before things go haywire.

The horse spins, hindquarters loaded to kick, and Mr. Cocky almost loses him. What follows is messy and violent, and it stirs quiet groans and gasps among the lookers-on. Even I flinch more than once. Ken is a wall of concentration beside me, studying every move until I take an involuntary step forward.

He sets a hand on my arm. “Wait.”

After an anxious battle that tests the gelding and puts the cowboy’s competence on full display, Mr. Cocky gains control, and I must admit, he comes out of it well. Extremely well. In other circumstances, I might even be impressed, but given what’s at stake here, I’m too devastated to give credit where it’s due.

Once the horse is settled, a stable hand walks over to take the lead. The thin crowd loses interest, and the winner saunters over, a sheen of perspiration laminating his brow.

“He’ll be happier at a rehab ranch or sanctuary,” he declares. “Much happier than he’ll ever be here.”

Ken nods, his mouth tight. “I agree. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Is that it?” I demand. “What about all the work I’ve put in?”

My boss frowns. “I’m sorry, Daisy. I gave you more than enough time to show me this horse could be an asset, but I’ve got a business to run. The horse goes.”

I want to argue, but I don’t know what else to say. I’ve been at Ken’s ranch for months now, and this horse has been my project for most of that time. He’s one of the reasons I’ve stayed in one place for so long. Another reason is the pay is fantastic. Six more weeks here and I’ll have enough money to vacation in Fiji before my next job in South America. I guess those weeks will be spent without this sweet, stubborn gelding in my life.

My small nod is defeated, and Ken accepts it without fuss.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” he says. “But I’m glad you’re both here. Daisy, this is Beau Covington. He’s our new senior stable hand. Beau, this is Daisy Davenport. She’ll show you the ropes.”

“Nice to meet you, Daisy.”

Mr. Cocky extends his hand, and when I scrunch my nose while shaking it, his eyes dance with that mirth again.

“I’ll, uh, let you two get acquainted,” Ken says. “Beau? Come see me if you need anything. It’s good to have you on board.”

Beau tips his hat as Ken walks away, and then it’s the two of us in the empty yard.

“So, where you from, Darlin’?”

I cross my arms and pop a hip. “Does that usually work for you?”

His lush mouth widens into a grin, showing off a row of perfect white teeth with a sexy little gap in the front that feels designed to toy with me. “What’s that?”

“The drawl. The hat.” I wave a disgusted hand at his beautiful body. “All that.”

He chuckles. “Never had any complaints before.”

“Well, don’t bother trying the cowboy schtick with me.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m not interested. You do your job, I’ll do mine, and everyone will be happy.”

“Not me, Darlin’.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Well, it seems to me that getting in your way could be a hell of a lot of fun.”

I scowl and storm off, feeling the painful loss of a horse I’ve come to love as well as a rise of desire and excitement that I don’t try to douse.

Beau Covington getting in my way does, indeed, sound like a hell of a lot of fun.

two

Daisy

I sit in my sister’s office and eyeball the naval whistle I gave her for Christmas last year, glinting on her desk like a warning. Charlie is the first to admit she runs the family like Captain von Trapp before Maria got to him, and when one of us mentions it, everyone chuckles because isn’t that hilarious? But the whistle is only kind of a joke.

I grit my teeth against the effects of one too many white wine sangrias last night. My head pounds, my mouth’s dry, and Charlie’s taking her sweet time scanning my business proposal. She’s holding three pages of dreams that took me three weeks and three sessions with my brother and my best friend to get right. I’m not the cleverest Davenport. I barely graduated from high school and never went to college. All I wanted as a kid was to grow up, ride horses, and see the world—at the same time, if possible—and that’s what I did. I spent a decade on the road, but now I’m home, and I’m not the girl I was when I left Silver Leaf Ranch.

I don’t realize my eyes have closed until Charlie clears her throat. I startle awake.

“Big night?” she asks, amused.

I sit up straighter. “Just a few drinks at The Slippery Tipple with Poppy.”

Charlie tilts her head and lifts a skeptical eyebrow.

“What?” I ask. “We were celebrating the end of my one-year man ban. A whole twelve months without a guy. It’s got to be a record.”

“Not in my book,” she mutters, then adds, “And what does that mean exactly? The end of your man ban?”

“It means I’ve purged the past. Exorcized my demons. Shaved my legs.”

“Ah.” She nods like she’s humoring me.

“No. Really. I’m a stronger woman now. With standards. High ones. I’m tough enough to date again—if I want to. But I don’t. Men suck.”

Her blue eyes soften, and she holds up the pages of my proposal. “Is that what this is about?”

My headache roars, making me wish I’d had the foresight to down an extra painkiller. “What do you mean?”

Charlie pauses, and I tense up. I don’t want much. Not really. Just her blessing to manage the horses, the stable, and the trail rides—all of it, all on my own. Silver Leaf is as much mine as it is my brothers’ and sister’s, and at the rate they’re shacking up, growing the business, and popping out babies, if I can’t convince them to give me more responsibility now, I’ll be irrelevant before I get a chance to prove I’m not the flaky little sister anymore.

If she doesn’t green-light my plan, I’m calling her Charlie von Crapp from now on. To her face.

The thought comes and goes quickly, and I kick my own butt for being grumpy. I love my sister. She’s smart and fair and sensible, and if she wasn’t as strong as she is, Silver Leaf might be a memory right now. That’s how bad business was a year ago. It’s not her fault I’m hungover. It’s mine, and I make a swift promise to myself that this is the last stupid thing I’ll ever do. Charlie’s a boss, and I want to be like her, but I don’t blame her for being cautious. I’m not sure I’d give me what I’m asking for if the roles were reversed.

“I mean your sudden need to be involved in operations.” Charlie sets down my papers, rests her elbows on her desk, and leans forward. “This place is yours as much as it is mine, but you’re not business-minded, Daze. You’re the free spirit in this family. Nobody’s asking you to change.”

“Maybe I want to change.”

She frowns. “Leading the trail rides and maintaining the stable is already a big contribution to this place.”

“Yes, but Finn was always around to help me with the business side of things, and that’s not the case anymore. I’m on my own, and I want it to stay that way.”

Charlie purses her lips. “You don’t have anything to prove—to me or anyone else.”

“What if I have something to prove to myself?”

The line between her brows deepens, and I take a recalibrating breath.

“Things are changing,” I explain. “And I need a new passion. Something all mine that requires my sweat and my soul. I need my role at Silver Leaf to be bigger than what it is.”

I don’t say what I’m really thinking—that I need something to love that won’t break my heart.

Charlie studies me, then nods. “I’m listening.”

Relief loosens my chest. “Our brothers all fell in love this past year. You and I are the only ones with our focus entirely on the business. Nothing—or nobody—to distract us. Our only priority is to make Silver Leaf the best ranch in the region.”

Charlie hums thoughtfully, her eyes meeting mine as we share the ironic smiles of two chronically single women. I can see her ticking off a list in her mind, the way I’ve done these last few weeks.

Our eldest brother, hockey legend Chord Davenport, retired this year. He’ll move back to the ranch in a couple of months with Violet, his fiancée, by his side.

Then there’s Dylan, raising his young daughter and running the family restaurant as a newlywed to my best friend, Poppy.

And Finn. This spring, he fell head over heels for pop icon Rosalie Thorne after saving her from a psychopathic stalker. Rosie’s expecting their first baby before the year’s out, and they’re living in Nashville with plans to visit every summer.

That leaves Charlie and me. Silver Leaf is my sister’s life’s work, and I’m determined to make it mine too.

“You’re asking to take over the entirety of trail operations,” she says. “And invest in more horses. That’s a huge responsibility, Daze.”

“I know, and I’m ready.”

“I know you think so, but it’s a lot of work. I’m not sure you realize how much.”

“It’s all in my proposal, isn’t it?”

“Some of it.” She flips through the pages again. “But do you understand that I’d be handing over everything? Administrative tasks, insurances, finances, marketing, and resourcing. And the facilities stuff, like property and asset maintenance. You’ll have to manage the relationship with our veterinarian—”

“Charlie?” I wait until she meets my gaze. “I know.”

She sighs. “If this doesn’t work out, or you decide in a month or a year from now that it’s too hard or too boring and you want to travel again, I don’t have the resources or, frankly, the passion to pick up what you leave behind. Not the care of half a dozen horses and everything that goes with them.”

I clasp my hands in my lap, holding on to the shame of Charlie’s opinion of me as well as the knowledge that I haven’t done much to improve it in the year since I came home.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say. “And I won’t be bored. I promise. Just let me try.”

Charlie leans back in her chair, her face unreadable, and my heart hammers. I need this. She’s got no idea how badly. I need a north star now that my entire world is this ranch.

She suddenly nods like she’s ended an argument with herself. “All right.”

I jolt upright. “All right? As in yes?”

“Yes.” Her smile is fond. “I might be CEO, and it might be my job to keep us in the black, but it’s not my goal to stunt your growth. This is progress, Daze. Silver Leaf belongs to all of us, and if you say you can do this, I believe you. I believe in you.”

“Really?” My throat feels tight. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You’re looking at long days on your feet and late nights poring over paperwork.”

“Charlie? I know.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” she adds. “I’m here. Dylan and Poppy are around. Chord and Violet will be back in the fall. We’ll help you.”

“I don’t need help,” I insist. “I’ve got this.”

“Okay. Great.” She sets her palms on the desk. “When do you want to start?”

“How about now?”

“You don’t want to take the rest of the weekend to, uh… recover?”

My head pounds, and I’d kill to smash a bacon sandwich in front of The Golden Girls, but I shake it off.

“Nope. I’m good to go. And the first thing I want to talk about is hiring help now that Finn’s not around. The casual hands are great and all, but I need someone permanent.”

Charlie grimaces. “I’m glad you brought that up because… I already found someone.”

“You did?” My shoulders sag. Hiring a new worker was supposed to be an easy first win. “Why didn’t you talk to me first?”

She looks only a little chastened. “I didn’t want to leave you on your own for too long, and you’ve never shown an interest in recruiting before now. It didn’t occur to me to wait.”

“Seriously?”

The corners of her mouth turn down, like she’s reevaluating my potential, and I shake that off too.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. This is great. One less thing for me to worry about, right? What kind of experience do they have?”

“He’s an all-rounder. Horse training. General stable hand stuff. Extensive administrative work. He came with strong recommendations, so I snapped him up.”

“So far so good,” I say. “Why did he leave his last job?”

“He’s been working seasonal and short-term stints for years, but he’s a single dad, so he needs something family friendly with on-site lodging and a long-term guarantee. It’s a perfect fit.”

I nod my approval. “When does he start?”

“About that…”

A knock sounds at the door, and Charlie gives it a guilty glance.

“Today?” I hiss. “Really?”

“He wanted to get settled into his accommodations ahead of his official start on Tuesday.”

I yank out the band holding my ponytail and use my fingers to comb out my curls. “You could have given me a heads-up.”

“It was on my list of things to talk to you about later today.”

Charlie offers me an apologetic wince as she rises. I jump up too, then regret it when the memory of last night’s sangria rolls through my stomach.

My sister shoots me a questioning glance, and I nod to let her know I’m ready.

She opens the door with a hospitable smile. “Hello. You must be Beau.”

“Yes, ma’am,” says a voice on the other side. Smooth. Southern. Unmistakable.

My heart throws itself against my ribcage, and the air is suddenly hot and thick.

“It’s nice to meet you in person,” Charlie says. “Come in.”

“Thank you,” he says.

Just like that. Thank you. All manners and charisma and charm.

He murmurs something else, the words directed at someone behind him, and I press a hand to my fluttering middle as Beau Covington steps into my sister’s office and back into my world.

three

Beau

I don’t get nervous starting new gigs. It’s a waste of energy. Shit either works out or it doesn’t, but today, my heart is pounding. I need this job to stick.

The woman who hired me is younger than I expected. Her tone on the phone was brisk and efficient, so I figured she’d been at this for more years than I’ve been riding horses. Instead, she’s barely thirty.

Charlie offers me her hand, and I remove my hat before I take it. “It’s nice to meet you too,” I say.

“I’d like you to meet my sister,” Charlie says, gesturing into the room. “She’ll be your manager here at the ranch. Beau Covington, this is Daisy Davenport.”

My heart slams into my throat, and my head jerks up.

Daisy’s hazel eyes are wide, her lips parted like she’s forgotten how to breathe, and she’s got a palm pressed to her stomach the way she does when she’s got butterflies. For a split second, I want to go to her, but the impulse disappears as quickly as it came.

Charlie clearly has no idea who I am, which means Daisy never did tell her family about me. Funny how that still hurts.

I extend my hand toward the woman who broke me, fingertips tingling at the promise of her skin. “Pleasure to meet you, Daisy.”

I trip over her name, the reflex to call her something else alive on my lips. Daisy glances at my hand, nostrils flaring, and ignores it.

“You can’t be here,” she says hotly. “Leave. Now.”

“Daisy!” Charlie looks scandalized.

“It’s all right,” I say with an ease I don’t feel. “She has her reasons.”

“Don’t you dare pretend to be the good guy,” Daisy snaps before she snatches her sister’s hand and drags her into the hall.

The door closes behind them with a slam. I’m not proud of it, but I edge closer so I can listen in.

“You can’t hire him,” Daisy whisper-screams.

“Why not?” Charlie asks. “Do you know him?”

“I know him, and I hate him.”

Her temper is exactly as I remember it. Hot like morning bedsheets and cheap bourbon and the curl of her fingers in my hair. It makes me smile despite the anxious roll of my stomach.

How the hell did I not put two and two together? Davenport. I took this job the minute they offered it. I’ve been so distracted by my own shit that Daisy’s last name never rang the right bell inside my thick skull.

I wasn’t listening for it. I was never supposed to see her again.

“What do you mean he’s got to go?” Charlie says. “Who is he?”

“He’s a jerk,” Daisy spits. “He’s reckless and unreliable and… and…”

Silence. Then, “Daze. Did he… Did he hurt you?”

I clench my jaw and wait. Yes, I hurt her. But she hurt me first.

“Not like that,” Daisy says. “Not the way you’re thinking. He’d never do that. He’s just… not a good guy.”

Another pause. “All right,” Charlie replies. “I’ll tell him there’s no job anymore.”

Sweat breaks out on my hairline, and I smooth it back into my hair. I can’t lose this opportunity. I need somewhere to live, someplace safe to raise a ten-year-old boy. Somewhere a judge will approve when I apply for permanent guardianship. This gig at Silver Leaf checks all the boxes. Horses. Decent wages. A cabin instead of my usual bunkhouses. Permission to keep Ollie with me while I work. The chance at a future that won’t fuck up my nephew the way my childhood did me. I have no plan B. If Daisy fires me, I’m screwed.

Their voices drop, and I press my ear against the door.

“No,” Daisy says. “You can’t.”

Relief settles my stomach, but it twists again when she adds, “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?” Charlie replies. “You look… kind of pale.”

“It’s the sangria,” she says. “And the stable is mine now. Hiring and firing included. You already agreed, so that makes him my problem, not yours.”

“Daze… I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“I can do it,” Daisy says, quietly but firmly. And even knowing she’s about to ruin my life all over again, her stubbornness makes me smile. “I need to do this.”

“Okay,” Charlie agrees. “Do you want me in there with you?”

“No. This is something I have to do myself.”

“If that’s what you want,” Charlie says. “I’ll be in reception if you change your mind.”

I step back just before the door swings open. Charlie’s on the other side, giving me a warning glare before Daisy shuts her out. She passes me in a stormy cloud of jasmine and vanilla, and my hands twitch to reach out and pull her close. It’s a relief when she puts the desk between us.

“You’re fired,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

I swallow. “Daisy—”

“Unless that’s an apology on your tongue, one you’re going to deliver on your knees, you can save whatever you’re about to say for someone who’ll believe it.”

I close my mouth. I’d spend the rest of my life on my knees for this woman, but I can’t apologize. I’m not sorry for ending things when she couldn’t.

“I’d feel bad about firing you,” she adds, “except we both know how good you are at taking off.”

She’s hitting below the belt, and it’s not her style. And that’s not all that’s different. She’s cut her hair, and the colored ends are gone—no more blues and pinks and purples. Just soft butterscotch waves that finish a handspan above the small of her back.

Fuck. I’ve missed her.

“Daisy—”

“And what were you thinking telling my sister you have a kid?” she demands. “That’s some lie, even for you.”

“Not a lie. He’s waiting out front.”

“Oh, my God.” She storms across the room, flings open the door, and points to the end of the hallway. “Get out.”

“No.”

“No?”

Sparring like this used to be our love language. Now I’m fighting for my life.

“I need this job.”

“And I need you to be anywhere but here.”

“His name is Oliver. Ollie.” It’s a struggle to sound neutral as I sink to the lowest kind of low. I know exactly how Ollie’s story will disarm Daisy. “His mom, my sister, abandoned him, so now he’s mine.”

Daisy hits me with a look that’s as disbelieving as it is devastated. It makes the short distance between us feel like an ocean I could cross in a heartbeat.

“I didn’t know this was your ranch when I took the job,” I tell her. “And I’m not here to make your life difficult, but Ollie has no other family, and I’ve got no other options.” I challenge her unswerving gaze even as her kaleidoscopic eyes threaten to undo me. “I promised him we’d have a home here, and I’m keeping that promise.”

“Since when do you care about keeping your word?”

“I’ve always cared about doing what’s right.”

Her nostrils flare and old sparks crackle between us. I hold my breath until she tosses her head and flings herself into the hallway. I follow, unbalanced but finding some pleasure in knowing she’s going to have to admit I’m right.

Daisy stops short at the sight of my nephew perched on a sofa in reception. He’s got a suitcase at his feet with my worn-out duffel beside it. Charlie sits next to him, and they both look up.

“This is Ollie,” Charlie says as she stands. “He’s, well…”

“My nephew,” I finish. At the nervous look in Ollie’s eyes, I add, “My family.”

Ollie slides off the sofa and comes over to slip his hand into mine. I take it and hold tight.

Daisy’s expression is carefully neutral, her eyes on Ollie and nobody else. “It’s nice to meet you, Ollie,” she says, and then to Charlie, “Is their cabin ready?”

“Yes. It’s the last one on the left.”

Daisy turns her face toward me, keeping her eyes downcast. “You start Tuesday at six. Split shifts through Saturday. Monday and every other Sunday off. Don’t be late.”

The fist around my heart eases. “Sounds good.”

“Me too?” Ollie asks, glancing tentatively from me to Daisy and back again.

“Ollie’s my second-in-command,” I explain. “I’m going to teach him everything I know. Isn’t that right, Ollie?”

He nods and watches Daisy anxiously.

Daisy presses her lips together, then offers Oliver a small smile. “You too. Do you have boots?”

Ollie defers to me for the answer. “Of course,” I say.

Daisy gives a short, approving nod, then steps away and tilts her head for me to follow.

“Hey, buddy,” I say to my nephew. “Just give me a second, okay?”

Charlie helpfully distracts Ollie with a question about his shirt—a secondhand hockey jersey—and I join Daisy a few paces away.

She lowers her voice so only I can hear. “I’ll give you a week to find somewhere else to go. I don’t want you in my life. Not now and not ever.”

I hide the way my stomach free-falls into nothing.

“I can’t promise that,” I say. “Ollie’s been through a lot. We’re not sleeping in my truck and eating out of paper bags when I’ve found a way to put a roof over his head and good food on the table.”

Daisy blinks, but lifts her chin like she’s ready to argue.

“I’ll be professional,” I say. “I’ll look for other work, and we’ll leave as soon as we can, but it’ll take time. Ollie can’t leave California.”

Her gaze flickers to Ollie, and her posture softens, if not her tone. “Fine. I’ll make some calls too. It won’t take as long as you think.”

I exhale with resignation. “Fine.”

That’s when I notice what I missed before. Dangling from Daisy’s wrist is the silver charm bracelet I gave her when things were good between us. I look away before she realizes I’ve seen it.

“Charlie,” Daisy says. “Can you take Beau and Ollie to their cabin?”

“Sure. No problem.”

“Thanks.” Daisy’s gaze again strays to Ollie, and she contemplates him for a quiet moment before she adds, “I’ll see you boys on Tuesday.”

four

Beau

(Then)

My first night off happens a week into the new job, and when some of the other stable hands mention they’re heading into town for drinks, I join them—but not for the company. There’s only one reason I change into my best jeans and a button-down shirt, and that reason is a pretty blonde who’s been making me work for it all week.

We walk into the bar after dark, when the music is already blaring and the booze is well and truly flowing. I’ve traveled the world these past ten years and been in too many bars to count, but there’s something common to all of them. The decor might be different, same goes for the food and the music and the beer, but the mood is usually the same. A bunch of blue-collar workers blowing off steam with greasy food, hard drinks, and fast hands. And that’s the vibe tonight.

The people I’m with move farther inside, but I’m rooted in the doorway because I’ve already spotted her, my gaze like the needle on a compass swinging to its north star. She’s the brightest spot on the crowded dance floor, carefree and exuberant, with butterscotch waves wild around her face, the last two inches dyed a vivid lilac. My heart beats faster, the same as it’s done every time I’ve set eyes on her this week.

She’s dancing with casual closeness against a guy I don’t recognize. Her energy makes me smile, and as her hips swing with unreserved joy and the guy’s hands circle her waist, her eyes find mine. She keeps smiling, keeps dancing, does nothing to acknowledge my arrival until she shifts closer to the man tilting his pelvis at her and tosses me a challenging stare.

I carve a path right to her.

Her back is to me by the time I reach her, her suitor gyrating on the other side. I move into the space behind her, then slide a hand around to her stomach and drop my head beside hers.

“You done playin’ with me, Darlin’? Or are you going to make me wait another night?”

Daisy turns her head. Her eyes are a spellbinding medley of browns and greens and golds, and her right eyebrow quirks with gentle amusement.

She spins slowly to face me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her full pink lips tip up at the corners, and I shoot a warning glance at the guy still rocking his mating dance in her direction. He hesitates, then backs off with a defeated shrug.

Satisfied, I sweep my eyes down Daisy’s curves before I fall back into those pretty eyes. “You’re torturing me, but I suspect you already know that.”

This seems to please her. Her smile is slow and satisfied, and as the press of dancers pushes against us, I settle my hands on her hips and pull her closer.

“You’ve been doing it all week,” I add, leaning in so she can hear me.

She slides one hand up my chest, her palm and fingertips slipping with slow fascination over cotton and muscle, until she finds the back of my neck. I close my eyes to gather myself, the first contact of her skin against mine making me shiver.

“Doing what?” she coos.

I mirror her slow smile. “Making me work for something I think we both want.”

I coast my hands higher, thumbs brushing the bare skin of her waist where her shirt rides up. She sucks in a breath, eyelashes fluttering, and her body tenses.

“Maybe I’m still thinking about what I want,” she says, but she edges closer as she says it, then matches the sway of my hips with her own.

I slip my fingers into her hair, tangling the threads around them to expose her ear, where I drop my mouth to murmur, “Or maybe you want to see me beg.”

Her eyes widen as I pull back, my mouth hovering above hers.

“I’ll do it if that’s what it takes,” I tell her. “If that’s the only way to get my mouth on you.”

Her throat bobs. “Do it,” she whispers. “Beg.”

I smirk and dig my fingers into her hip. “Please, Darlin’. Please let me make you feel good.”

Now it’s desire that lights her eyes, and after a beat that feels like an eternity, she takes off my cowboy hat and puts it on her head. We both know what that means, and my mouth tips up in a triumphant smile. Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.

I brush my lips against hers, and her eyelids float closed. It makes my blood pound louder than the music, so I do it again. Featherlight and curious.

Daisy’s fingers twist hard into my hair, and it’s all the encouragement I need.

I kiss her, deeply and intently. I taste her—warmth, salt, tequila—and she responds, her mouth opening to my long, slow explorations. The people and the music around us fade away.

The pressure of her hand on my neck increases, a grip that says she won’t let go, and she clutches at my shirt with the other. Our tongues tangle. Her pulse races where my fingers curl around her neck, and my blood grows hot and thick. She kisses me like she’s the one who’s been dreaming about it all this time, and when she whimpers against my mouth, I nearly lose it.

My first kiss with Daisy is the best kiss of my fucking life.

Dragging my lips off hers is the hardest thing I’ll ever do, but it’s worth it when I see my wonder mirrored in her face. The tension between us pulls tighter, looping into knots I didn’t expect.

“Do you want to get out of here?” I ask.

She nods, skin flushed and pupils dilated. “Yes.”

I take her hand, and she laces her fingers through mine like they’ve been there a thousand times before. We don’t say a word as I lead her through the crowd toward the door or when we reach my truck. I open her door, and she watches me in silence as I round the hood and slip behind the wheel, but when I’m settled, I find her hand again and don’t let go.

My heart races, and I’m too afraid to look away from the road in case it breaks whatever magic brought us here, but when I pull up at my lodgings on the ranch and cut the engine, Daisy’s still studying me. The sight of her wearing my hat pushes me right to the edge, but it’s those eyes that undo me. I reach across the console, take her face in my hand, and pull her mouth to mine.

The next morning, I tell myself it was just one night, just one girl, but it’s not true. That night, and that girl, change my life forever.

five

Daisy

Poppy rings the doorbell but doesn’t wait for an answer before she walks into my new place. She has a foil-covered plate in one hand and a bottle of red tucked into the crook of her arm. There’s concern written all over her face.

“Charlie sent me,” she says as she sets the plate beside my whirring laptop. “I’ve got orders to feed you, water you, and pester you until you tell me what’s up.”

I lift the cover off my dinner, and a warm cloud of garlic and tomato makes my mouth water. “What makes her think something’s up?”

My bestie stares pointedly while I examine my pasta like it’s the most interesting thing in the room.

“Renovations on the barn house wrapped up weeks ago, but you didn’t want to move in,” she says. “Now you’ve slept here two nights in a row. You’re avoiding Charlie or me or all of us at the main house. Something’s definitely up.”

I’m parked in a folding chair in front of a card table in what’s supposed to be the living room of my new home. The restored barn house is beautiful. Bright and open with high, beamed ceilings, dark hardwood floors, and massive windows that flood the space with sunlight during the day and encase it in stars at night. It’s very big and very, very empty.

I glance around for a fork, and Poppy whips one from the pocket of her denim cutoffs. I smile my thanks and dig in while she drags a beanbag across the room. She plops into it, then does a good job of judging me from a position better suited to teenagers playing video games.

“Does this have anything to do with your meeting with Charlie?” she asks, knowing how anxious I’ve been about winning my sister’s approval. “Your text said she agreed to everything, but by the way you’re acting, something doesn’t add up.”

“It went fine,” I say. “Better than fine. Charlie signed off on all of it. You’re looking at the new operations manager of the Silver Leaf trail rides and stable.”

“That’s wonderful! I’m proud of you, Daze.” When I don’t match her enthusiasm, her smile fades. “Why aren’t you happy?”

I crook my fingers at the wine bottle in her lap. “If we’re going to talk about this, I’m going to need that.”

She hands it over, and I twist the screw cap, then drink from the bottle. When I finish, Poppy’s watching me with a worried tilt to her head.

“So?” she says. “What’s going on?”

I say it before I have time to think about it. “Beau’s here.”

Poppy looks puzzled, but then her eyes grow wide. “Beau’s here?”

My best friend is the only one who knows about Beau, and she only knows part of the story. She knows I loved him and that it ended with Beau gone and me broken enough to come home after a decade of chasing my dreams. But she doesn’t know everything.

“Yep.” I poke at my dinner, looking for an appealing piece of penne, then drop my fork and push the plate away.

“But… how? Why? I thought—”

“It’s a total coincidence.” The fact that Beau didn’t scour the earth looking for me to show up in a blaze of love-and-regret-fueled glory hurts more than I care to admit. I let out a brittle chuckle. “He had no idea Silver Leaf is mine. He needed a job. Charlie hired him on a recommendation. And now I’m stuck with the consequences.”

Poppy’s expression softens. “When did this happen?”

I shrug. “Two days ago. After my meeting with Charlie.”

She releases a whoosh of a sigh. “Daze. I wish you’d told me.”

“I’m still processing.”

“I don’t blame you. So Charlie hired Beau to—what? Replace Finn?”

“That’s right. He’s got the experience and wants something permanent. It’s a good match on paper.”

“And Charlie didn’t fire him when you told her who he is?”

“I’m in charge of staff now, so I told her I would do it,” I reply.

“But you didn’t?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Daze. Come on. The guy broke your heart.” She scowls like the best friend she is. “I wish I’d been there. I would’ve kicked his ass all the way back to the rock he crawled out from under.”

“Yeah, well, that was the plan until he told me he’s got a kid.”

Poppy blinks. “He’s got a what?”

“A ten-year-old boy, Ollie, and he’s here too.”

She studies my face for signs that I’m telling a bad joke and can’t find them. “You never mentioned anything about Beau being a father.”

“Because he wasn’t one when we were together.” I rub my eyes, suddenly exhausted. “Beau’s sister is, well… I’m not sure, but Ollie doesn’t have his mom anymore, and Beau has guardianship.” My voice catches, and I clear it quietly. “You should see the kid, Poppy. He’s adorable. All long limbs and freckled cheeks and big brown eyes. What was I supposed to do?”

Poppy sinks deeper into the beanbag and drops her head back. “That complicates things.”

“Don’t I know it.”

She rolls her head my way and gives me a sad smile. “You’re thinking about your mom and dad, aren’t you?”

“Trying hard not to.”

“Got it.”

Poppy and I have been best friends forever—our mothers met in the hospital, where we were both born only a few days apart—and she almost always knows what I’m feeling without my having to say it. I wish I could tell her everything, but some wounds are too deep to share, even with the person who knows me better than anyone.

I need to be closer to her, so I slide from my chair to the floor, then move at the speed of a sloth to the beanbag. Poppy shifts so I can burrow in next to her, where I lean my head against hers. I offer her the wine bottle, and she takes a drink.

“Do you remember doing this when we were seventeen and the barn was abandoned?” I imagine the roof the way it used to be, broken in places and open to the sky, the stars winking as they listened to our secrets. “Stealing wine from the Silver Leaf cellars. Snuggled up on old blankets while we talked about boys.”

“Dreaming about the adventures we’d have and the men we’d leave weeping in our wake,” she adds.

“Yeah.”

Poppy hums with a smile. “What do you think our seventeen-year-old selves would say if we could go back and tell them they’d end up back here where it all started?”

“I’d slap myself,” I say, and Poppy laughs as she nudges me with her elbow. “What? I’m a drunk teenager with no emotional regulation skills. What do you expect?”

She chuckles again, then sighs. “Would you tell us not to leave at all?”

I stare at the ceiling beams. “No. I’d tell teenage Daisy to chase adventure, but I’d warn her that when a dark-haired cowboy with a sexy southern drawl tries to sweep her off her feet, she should run. Fast.”

Poppy twists onto her side. “Well, since you don’t possess the skills to invent a time machine, you’re going to have to figure this out. Do you have a plan?”

“I told him he can stay for a week while he makes other arrangements.”

“Is that… wise?”

I laugh weakly. “Probably not. But on the one hand, I’ve got Charlie watching to make sure I handle this like a level-headed businesswoman. On the other, I’ve got a little boy who needs a home, and none of this is his fault.”

“I know,” Poppy whispers, like she can see the trap ahead and no way to avoid it.

“I came back to Silver Leaf to get over Beau,” I say. My thoughts have been on a loop since Beau walked into Charlie’s office, and it’s a relief to get them out of my head. “And to figure out what my life will look like without him in it. It took a year to get close to the answer, but now that he’s shown up here out of nowhere? Now I know for sure. Silver Leaf is my focus. Our family and this business are my only priorities. There’s no room for anything else, especially not silly dreams of romantic adventures and falling in love.”

Poppy threads her fingers through mine. “Explain?”

My thoughts are muddled, which means my answer is a little winding. “When we were kids, our plan was to get out of here, right? We wanted to see the world and experience great romances and become the women we were meant to be.”

Poppy sighs her agreement. Like me, she spent a decade away from Aster Springs, and like me, she returned last summer with hurts that needed to heal. But unlike me, Aster Springs turned out to be her ticket to a happily ever after.

“But what I found out there was Beau,” I continue. “That man was my world for more than a year, until one day, he wasn’t. I woke up one morning and he was just… gone.”

“I’m sorry, Daze.” Poppy wriggles closer to me. “I’m so angry at him for doing that to you.”

“I know, and I love you for it, but seeing him unexpectedly after all this time made me realize something. In one way or another, my whole life has been about Beau—or the idea of him. Fantasizing about him. Finding him. Then loving him and losing him. Most recently getting free of him. Beau, or the idea of Beau, has always been my compass.”

Poppy is quiet for a long moment, then she says, “That’s how I feel about Dylan.”

“Difference is, my brother is one of the good guys.” I squeeze her hand to let her know how much I love having her as my sister and how happy I am that at least one of us got everything we wished for. “But now you know why I need to be done with Beau.”

“Because it’s no good loving someone who doesn’t love you back?”

The truth of that makes it hard to swallow, and I cover the catch in my throat with a dry grin. “You’re not just a pretty face, my friend.”

“Beau left you,” she says gently. “You don’t owe him anything.”

“I know.”

“And Silver Leaf is yours,” she adds. “You could tell him to leave tomorrow.”

I shake my head. “I already messed up when I lost my temper yesterday. If I force him to leave now, it’ll seem like I still…”

I don’t want to finish that sentence, but I don’t have to.

Now it’s Poppy’s turn to squeeze my hand. “And do you?”

I stare at the ceiling and wonder what it would be like to no longer be consumed by this ache in my chest.

“No,” I say. “Worse. I hate him, and I can’t live with that either. There’s only one way to get over Beau, and that’s to figure out a way to feel nothing for him at all.”

six

Daisy

(Then)

“I have to go,” I moan, trying again to untangle from the sheets and drag myself off the mattress.

I don’t make it farther than one foot over the edge before Beau hooks an arm around my waist and hauls me back.

“Not yet.” He flips me onto my back and cages me in with his magnificent body. “You’re not going anywhere.”

I admire the picture of him above me—the solid muscles of his upper body, the sharp lines of his collarbones, the rough five o’clock shadow over his jaw. He needs a haircut, and he looks a little wild. But then there are his eyes, which are soft and tender like the kisses he dusts across my lips, down my neck, and over my breasts.

I twist my fingers into his hair and breathe in, committing to my memory the smell of his skin and these sheets. I never want to forget it. I never want to forget him.

“I’ve got a flight to catch,” I say, and even though it’s true, I’m having a hard time finding the will to care.

My time in New Zealand is over, and after ten days sunning myself in Fiji, I’ve got a three-month gig at a ranch in Argentina. I don’t have the money to miss a single connection, but the risk still isn’t enough to make me toss this man out of my bed.

Beau grunts. “Don’t remind me.”

He works his way down my naked body, tongue swirling down my sternum, across my stomach, then lower. He parts my knees, and I arch off the mattress at the first touch of his tongue. I keep writhing as the minutes lose all meaning, and by the time I drag him back up, I’m weak and trembling.

“Beau,” I pant as he falls onto the pillow beside me.

“Don’t say it.” He scoops my naked body against his, my spine bowed against his chest, and wraps me in his arms. “Don’t fucking say it.”

“We agreed this would only last for as long as we were here. A six-week fling, and then it’s over.”

The words are bitter. We both wanted an end date on this, but I didn’t know six weeks would pass so fast, or that, for the first time in my adult life, there’d be a person in my world who could tempt me to stay in one place. And it’s kind of terrifying.

“Our agreement was bullshit,” he mumbles, nuzzling my hair. “I take it back.”

I spin in his arms so we’re lying nose to nose. “Your contract here runs until June.”

“Yeah.”

“Then you’ve got a job in Australia.”

“And?”

“And I’ll be in Patagonia.”

“So?”

I shove at his chest, and he holds me tighter. “So… how do you propose we make this work?”

“Well…” His mouth drifts across my jaw before he drags my hair back to press kisses down my throat. His manner is entirely unconcerned.

I close my eyes and try not to get swept away. “Mmm?”

“I could quit,” he says between kisses. “And come with you to Fiji.”

My breath catches, and I pull back to study his face. “You can’t quit your job.”

“Why not?”

“Because… you just can’t.”

He smirks like giving up a solid, well-paying gig is no big deal. Like giving it up for me is no big deal. His brown eyes are liquid-warm, and my stomach flips, but the yes won’t leave my lips. It’s too soon to love him like I do.

“Could you even afford it?”

“I can afford the flights,” he says, like he’s already done the research.

“And I’ve got the accommodation.” I hear the words like they’ve come from someone else.

He smiles, that imperfect gap flashing and making me melt. “Think you could find space in your bed for me, Darlin’?”

I kiss him deeply and try to convince myself this is the last time. He responds like it’s the first kiss of some new life. My desperation matched by his desire, and it makes detaching from him so much harder. “No.”

Beau’s brows are the first thing to fall, and then his entire face follows. “No?”

I push myself out of the bed, and this time, he lets me go.

“I won’t let you leave your job for me,” I say. “Ken is one of the best bosses you’ll ever have, and he’s expecting you to stick around. You can’t go back on your word.”

He sits up, sheets rucked up around his hips, and watches me as I rummage for a pair of clean underwear in my already-packed suitcase. His hair sticks out at odd angles, and he makes it even sexier by running a hand through it.

“I gave him my word before I met you,” he says.

“Exactly! We just met. And you can’t turn your life upside down for a girl you just met!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s… it’s… ludicrous!” I throw up my hands, my bra in one and my shirt in the other. “And what about the money you’ll lose if you leave?”

We both know that with the way we live, on working visas and vacations between gigs, we need to make money when we can and how we can. Not all jobs pay wages. Some are only good for room and board, and while it’s a cost-effective way to see the world, it’s not exactly boosting our bank accounts.

Beau snorts. “I don’t give a shit about the money. I’m better off without it.”

I pause with my bra hooked into place, shirt on but open, and jeans unbuttoned at the waist. “Who is ever better off without money?”

“People like me.”

I narrow my eyes, wanting to ask questions but knowing it’ll keep me here when I need to go.

Beau grins like he can read my mind. He crawls across the mattress, reaches out to loop a finger into my jeans, and pulls me to him.

“You want to know more about me, don’t you, Darlin’?”

“No.”

He gets to his knees, circles my waist with those big arms, and kisses me.

And… I’m drunk. “Maybe.”

He smirks. “And I want to know everything about you.”

When he kisses me again, I collapse into him.

“Beau. Stop it.” I push on his chest, harder this time. He releases me and falls back to the mattress with a sigh. “This isn’t practical. All the sex has messed with your brain chemistry.”

“I’m cool with that.”

I laugh weakly. “Seriously. You can’t throw away the rest of this year for a week on a beach with me.”

“I’m not suggesting that.”

“No? So what would you call it, exactly?”

He takes my hand and gently tugs me to sit beside him. The seriousness of his mouth gives me butterflies, and I press a hand to my middle to settle the fluttering.

“Don’t you get it? I’m crazy about you. You’re everything I never knew I needed, and damn if you don’t make me want to do everything I can to impress you. All this sex we’ve been enjoying? I’ve never worked so hard in bed in all my life.”

That makes me smile, and he grins back.

“So no, I wouldn’t be throwing away a good gig to spend a week on a beach with a girl I just met. I’d be trading a few months at a job I don’t care about for my shot at a lifetime with the woman I’m falling in love with.”

My throat tightens, and I fight to keep my eyes dry. How is it possible to feel total exhilaration and overwhelming apprehension all at once? I always wanted to find love, but now that it’s happening, all I want is for it to stop.

“What if I don’t want more?” I ask, voice thick.

“Then say so.”

His deep brown eyes, bright and intense, capture mine and don’t let go, and when I can’t admit that it’s over, he takes my hands in his.

“What if we give this a chance to see where it goes?”

My fingers tighten around his. “What if we stick to the plan? If we’re meant to be together, then we’ll find each other again.”

“What if choosing each other now is the way it’s supposed to be?”

“What if…” I trail off.

His thumbs brush over my knuckles, and the hope that keeps lighting then dimming his expression is almost too much to bear.

“What if you stay here and finish your contract? I’ll go on my trip, then to my job in Patagonia. We’ll see what happens after that.”

“Or… what if I don’t?”

I break free of his hands and stand, turning away while I button my shirt, then stuff the last of my things into my suitcase.

“It’s too fast,” I say with my back to him. “I want to, but…”

“But?” he says, coming up behind me.

But as long as I’m moving, I’m in control. I’m happy. As soon as I stop or even think about putting down roots, the risk of everything falling apart grows too great.

I take a deep breath and gather my strength, then spin to face him. “But one of us needs to be smart. You should stay. Do what Ken hired you to do, and when your contract is over, give me a call.”

His head drops forward, like he’s been delivered a blow, and when he lifts it again, there are lines of anguish around his eyes. “Is this really what you want?”

I’m not at all sure that it is, but I say, “It’s really what I want.”

He crosses the room, then brushes a tear from my cheek before I feel it fall. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“I didn’t expect this,” I admit. “I’m not ready for it.”

“Okay, Darlin’.” He nods slowly, like he’s processing while we talk. “I hear you. We’ll go as slow as you want to go, but I need you to understand something. We know horses, right? We’ve got instincts, and they never steer us wrong.”

My sarcastic look is only slightly undermined by my wet cheeks. I’m thinking about the day we met and how wrong I was about the young gelding, and Beau grins.

“Okay, well, I’ve got instincts, and they never steer me wrong. I’ve got a feeling about you, Daisy Darlin’. We’re meant to be in each other’s lives, and I know it’s scary to be so sure of that after six weeks, but it only makes me more certain. Nothing temporary could feel like this.”

“Are you a secret romantic, Beau Covington? I never would’ve picked it.”

“I’m a realist,” he says with a wry smile. “I’m not a man who loses his head over a woman, and yet here I am. That’s how I know it’s real.”

“We barely know each other,” I protest.

“There’s time for that.”

“I’m not a traditional kind of girl.” My heart starts to race at how close I am to giving in. “I’m not going to stay in one place and go to a boring job every day and make the same dinners every night. I want to travel and have adventures and never go home.”

“I want that too.”

“Beau—”

“Okay. I get it,” he soothes. “I’ll do what you tell me, but I won’t go away. There’s something between us. More than we can explore in six weeks, and we owe it to each other to see where it goes.”

I inhale and release the breath, searching for resolve and somehow finding it. “I need to think about it.”

“Do all the thinking you need to do. And when you realize I’m right, I’ll be there.”

We say goodbye there in my bedroom, with a kiss I cut short and no backward glance as I walk through the door and out to the waiting taxi. Something feels wrong the entire ride to the airport, and I scrub the tears from my cheeks when I can’t hold them back anymore, but it’s not until I’m at the boarding gate that I can admit my mistake.

Beau is the most thrilling adventure I’ll ever have, and those instincts he talked about tell me he’s also the most important. I walked away because I was scared, not because it was sensible, and I don’t want fear to be the rule I live by.

I pull out my phone before my courage dips and tap out a text.

Me:

I was wrong. How soon can we make this work?

My phone pings immediately.

Beau

Turn around.

seven

Beau

Ollie perches on a dining chair, and I watch him from the corner of my eye. I made a big breakfast for our first day in the stable, but he’s only nibbled half of his toast and he’s barely made a dent in his eggs. But his juice glass is empty, so I top it up and hope the sugar will get him through to midmorning when I can try to get him to eat again. The best I can do now is smash my omelet and hope it sets a good example.

I wish I knew what the hell I was doing. Before Sarah called and asked me to come collect Ollie, I hadn’t seen her in years. Hadn’t seen Ollie since he was in second grade. I never wanted to be a father, but there’s nobody else to raise this boy, and maybe, for once in my life, I’m better than the alternatives.

It’s dark outside, that promising predawn gray when a man can fool himself into believing that today will be better than yesterday. When Ollie sighs for the third time since I coaxed him out of bed, I decide it’s time to distract him.

I swipe up the bag at my feet and pull out a brand-new kid-sized Stetson. “Here. If you’re going to be a cowboy, you need a proper hat.”

Ollie’s eyes light up as he takes it, and the tension in my middle eases.

“Put it on,” I say. “Let’s see how it looks.”

He settles the hat on his head and looks at me hopefully.

I grin. “It suits you.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. You were born to wear a hat like that.”

He hops down to run to the hallway mirror, and I let him admire his reflection for a minute before it’s time for us to leave the cabin.

“Okay, buddy. We don’t want to be late for our first day. Let’s get going.”

I help him shrug on his backpack, then with a brush of my hand on his shoulder, steer him toward the porch. “Go out and get your boots on while I fill our water bottles.”

“Okay, Uncle Beau.”

He swings open the door, then jumps back.

There’s a man standing in the porch light. He’s tall, though not as tall as me, and built through the chest in a lean kind of way. His hair is pulled back, and he’s wearing a chef’s jacket and a scowl—until he lays eyes on Ollie. That’s when his shoulders drop, and his expression goes from “on a mission” to “not sure what to do now.”

Ollie stares up at the guy without speaking or retreating, his narrow shoulders pulled back and determined. I clear my throat to let him know I’m here, then walk over and rest a protective hand on Ollie’s head.

“What can I do for you?” I ask.

The guy hesitates, eyes falling to Ollie before returning to me, and his gaze hardens.

“Can I speak with you?” he asks like I should know who he is.

I don’t, not officially, but the smooth slope of his nose is familiar, as is the way he tips his head when he talks. And I am on her family’s ranch, which means this guy with the chip on his shoulder has to be Daisy’s brother. And he’s here to put me in my place.

“Sure,” I say easily, like he’s inviting me out for a beer instead of a beating. I give Ollie’s shoulder a pat. “Give us a minute, buddy. I’m going to step out and talk to— Sorry. I didn’t catch your name?”

“Dylan,” he replies shortly.

I nod toward my nephew. “This is Ollie. And I’m Beau, but I figure you already knew that.”

“Nice to meet you, Ollie,” Dylan says, then to me, “And yeah, I did.”

Ollie hovers, his hands balling into fists, and I pat the little guy’s back.

“Everything’s fine. Dylan is Daisy’s brother, and he just stopped by to say hello.” Ollie looks unconvinced, so I add, “Why don’t you go inside and get our water bottles? This won’t take long.”

Ollie scowls but goes to the kitchen and opens the fridge. I step out onto the porch, deliberately crowding Dylan out of my way, and pull the door almost closed behind me. Around us, the morning Sonoma fog hangs like a wet, gray blanket.

“If this is a warning to stay away from your sister, you don’t need to trouble yourself.”

“I think I do.”

I remind myself that Silver Leaf is a family business, and Daisy’s brother is as good as my boss. Never cared for bosses much and never thought twice about flipping one off if I wasn’t having a good time, but Ollie changes that. I’ve got to accept the bridle, however hard it pinches.

I cross my arms and square up. “Go for it.”

“You hurt Daisy,” he grinds out. “If it were up to me, I would’ve thrown you off my property the second you got here. But as much as it kills me, it’s not up to me.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

His nostrils flare. “The moment Daisy gives the word, I’ll be back to pack up your shit and throw you out.” He steps closer. “She hates you. That’s enough for me to know you’re an asshole, and none of us tolerate assholes here. Watch your step and count your days. Got it?”

I scan his face for hints that Daisy told him the truth about what happened between us, but there are none. And why should there be? I’m nothing to Daisy’s family. Just a secret she kept all to herself.

Dylan turns to leave, but I speak before he gets three steps.

“I know this is fucked up,” I tell him. “I know Daisy is better off without me.”

He looks over his shoulder before turning around. “Then why the hell are you here?”

I glance back at the cabin. “Ollie needs a home and a parent figure who can give him a good life. I didn’t have those things growing up, and neither has he—so far. I’m not letting it stay that way.”

He glares for a long moment. “Where will Ollie go when you’re working?”

“He’ll stay with me until school starts. Work with me in the stable.”

“Is that safe?”

“I cleared it with Charlie and signed all the necessary paperwork.”

Dylan crosses his arms. “Tough life for a little kid.”

“No tougher than the one he came from.”

His expression shifts, and he squints into the distance before shaking his head.

“He’s welcome at the main house anytime,” he says finally. “My daughter, Izzy, is seven, and my wife is home with her during the summer. Kids need downtime, and it’s hard raising a child on your own.”

The offer tempts me more than I want to admit. I’d pay money I don’t have for a couple of hours alone, but the only shot in hell I have of keeping us at Silver Leaf is to keep a low profile.

“Thanks, but I don’t need your help.”

He looks me dead in the eye. “I don’t like you.”

“No shit.”

“But that’s not Ollie’s fault. If you need help, ask.”

“I’ve got everything under control.”

Dylan snorts. “How long have you had Ollie?”

“Almost a month.”

He responds with a smug hum. “Offer stands, even if you are an arrogant motherfucker.”

My fists curl where they’re hidden beneath my crossed arms. “You done?”

“I’m done—until Daisy says otherwise.”

He stalks away, and I watch his back until he’s just a silhouette on the horizon and then a lost shadow in the predawn light. By the time he’s gone, my irritation is little more than the buzz of a fly, and I’m left contemplating the fields and vineyards of Silver Leaf. Purple mountains beyond them. Thick woodlands and a wide river and the whole world past that.

That’s where I belong. On the road. Not stuck in a six-hundred-square-foot cabin, working for a woman I love and can’t have, with less than a hundred bucks in my bank account and the future of a broken little boy in my hands.

eight

Beau

(Then)

It’s not yet dawn, and Daisy’s pulling on her boots while I hunt around our room for the coffee cup I had in my hand a minute ago.

Daisy stands, then stomps to settle her shoes on her feet. “It’s in the bathroom.”

I uncurl from my crouch, failing to find what I’m looking for under the bed. “My coffee cup?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

She laughs. “Yep.”

I push to my feet with disappointment. That last mouthful of cold coffee will be undrinkable now that it’s spent time in a communal bathroom.

“Why didn’t you get it for me?” I ask as I pull on my boots.

She grins impishly. “I live for the moment you realize it’s lost. Your forehead gets all wrinkly and you stare off into space like you’re the star in a nineties soap opera. It’s adorable.”

Our bedroom is small, so I don’t have to reach far to yank her close and kiss her. Six months with this woman, and it still feels like the first six weeks. The first six days. Six minutes. The only thing that’s different is that I know I love her. I was almost sure that day I chased her to the airport, but now, I’m positive.

Our kiss deepens to the point that we have to stop or risk being late, and one late morning is enough to get both of us fired. This dream job in Southern Spain is closer to a nightmare. The horses are solid and looked after well enough, but they’re overworked. The staff is quiet, and nobody’s interested in making friends. We barely see the owners, who leave the operations to their youngest son, and there’s something off about the guy.

If Daisy and I hadn’t blown every cent we had on the trip to Fiji and then earned next to nothing in South America, I would’ve ditched this ranch the second we set foot on it. Instead, we’re stuck for another month.

Daisy’s the one to break our kiss. “We have to go,” she says, sliding out of my embrace, but I catch her before she’s gone two steps, hooking an arm around her waist and not letting go.

“I don’t like it here,” I say for the hundredth time.

Her head tips to the side, and she rolls her lips. “I know,” she says. “Neither do I. But we’ve made it this far. Four weeks down. Another four to go.”

Daisy slips free again, and I push my hair back from my face, then put on my hat. “I can’t believe we’ve put up with this shit for a whole month already.”

“Yep.” I notice the pinched lines around her eyes and wish I could smooth them away. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

I grunt. “And drags when you’re counting the minutes.”

“Come on.” She takes my hand and tugs me out of the bedroom, one of six in our communal farmhouse accommodation. “Let’s get another day over and done with.”

To my frustration, Javier is at the stable when we walk in. I glare when I spot him halfway down the aisle, and a growl rolls through my chest.

Daisy shoves me to the side and into the tack room.

“You need to hide your revulsion a little better,” she hisses.

“Why? The guy’s a dick.”

“I know, which is why he’ll kick us out at the first sign of trouble.” She takes my hands and waits until I give her the eye contact she wants. “You want to be without room and board for the next month?”

My eyebrows draw in. I hear what she’s saying, but the words bounce right out of my head. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

She exhales loudly, but when my jaw stays hard, she rolls her shoulders back and grips my fingers tight. “I’ve handled worse than Javier.”

Her words come slowly, like that’ll help me understand, but the inference that she’s been subjected to harassment in the past sharpens the instinct to protect her now. And the way she stands, defensive but small, doesn’t reassure me. If anything, I’m more agitated than before.

“You know I did this for eight years before I met you, right?” Her tone has turned playful, but it’ll take more than forced levity to lighten the mood. “And I grew up with three big brothers. I can take care of myself.”

“This isn’t funny,” I tell her. “You can’t expect me to do nothing.”

Her shoulders drop and she shakes her head. “No, but you’re overreacting. The women here talk about his bad vibes, but he’s never acted out. Sure, he throws his weight around, and he likes to feel powerful, but that’s it. The world is crawling with men like Javier, and he’s not going to risk the reputation of his ranch by trying anything.”

I scowl. Daisy has no idea how untrue that is.

The door handle jiggles before the door to the tack room swings open. One of the other stable hands, an Irish woman named Lucy, sticks her head in.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says. “I need a bridle.”

“You’re not interrupting,” Daisy says. “We’re done.”

“Hey, Lucy?” I ask as she picks through the tack for the items she needs.

“Yeah?”

“What do you think of Javier?”

She blinks, perhaps caught off guard by my question or weighing up the wisdom of being honest, but then she glances at Daisy, and her posture softens.

“I wouldn’t want to be alone with him,” she says quietly.

Daisy releases a breath as Lucy disappears into the stable, and I shoot the woman I love an expectant look. “Well?”

“I get it,” she says. “And I’ll be careful, but I’m not going to let Javier intimidate me, and none of it changes the fact that we’ve got jobs to do. So… can we go do them?”

I grind my teeth and try not to scowl. “I’ll be so fucking relieved when this is over.”

I avoid the jerk all morning, mucking out the stalls and feeding the horses and preparing them for trail rides in a way that keeps Daisy always in my sight, until midday, when Javier approaches.

“I need you out in the north fields,” he orders without so much as a hello. His boots are too clean, his shirt is too smooth, and his cologne is too strong for someone who’s supposed to be running a ranch.

I stop sweeping and lean on the broom handle, adding an insolent lift of my chin because it feels good. “Why?”

At the other end of the stable, Daisy steps out of a stall to watch. She’s too far past Javier’s shoulder for me to make out her expression, but I don’t have to. I can sense her telepathic plea to shut up, and I ignore it.

Javier scoffs like this whole thing is funny, but there’s an undercurrent of frustration to his energy. “Because you go where I tell you to go.” He meets my glare, then serves me an arrogant smirk. “There’s a fence that needs to be fixed.”

“I’m busy. Thomas can do it.”

Javier’s cheeks darken, and his jaw feathers. “Thomas doesn’t work here anymore.”

“Since when?”

“Since now. He’s fired. You want to be next?”

Daisy creeps a few steps closer, and Javier’s head shifts toward the sound of her feet, but he doesn’t need to turn to know who’s behind him. He can read it on my face as I meet her eyes, which silently will me to rein it in.

I take a quick measure of the stable. We’re not the only ones here. Lucy’s around, and Andy, Kirk, and Monica have been in and out all day. Daisy won’t be alone if I let Javier have his way, which is the only reason I can make myself back down.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’ll do it.”

Javier’s eyes are small and smug. “I thought you might.”

He swaggers down the aisle, ignoring Daisy in a way that makes my hackles rise as she closes the distance between us.

“Thank you for being practical,” she says.

I scowl at Javier’s back as he disappears into the yard. “I really can’t stand that guy.”

“Four weeks,” she reminds me, as if that’ll make me feel better. “Then we’re out of here.”

The fence in the north paddock requires more than an afternoon’s worth of work, but for the entire hour I’m out there sweating under the sun, I berate myself for leaving Daisy behind. I talk myself in and out of insanity, debating whether it’s meat-headed misogyny to assume she needs my protection twenty-four hours a day or my job to keep her safe. My stomach churns, and eventually, when every muscle quivers with nervous tension, I decide Daisy was wrong about being practical. I don’t even bother packing up my tools before mounting up and pushing my horse to a gallop.

The stable is unusually still, the only activity Lucy taking care of a mare in the yard.

“Hey,” I say as I fling myself out of the saddle. “Have you seen Daisy?”

“She was here a minute ago,” Lucy says. “Oh! I think Javier sent her to the grain shed.”

“And where is Javier now?”

I’m already moving, tossing the reins of my mount to Lucy as I head in that direction.

Her face drains of color, and my pulse spikes. “I… I don’t know.”

“Fuck.”

Sour fear rises in my throat as I race through the outdoor arena and past the covered pen to the food storage shed. The door is almost closed, and I smash it open with a flat palm, letting light flood into the darkened space. Daisy’s here, and she’s not alone. She’s against a wall, eyes wide and body trembling. Javier is crowding her, his hand slipped possessively around her neck.

My blood surges. Javier spins, shock and irritation on his face, and Daisy ducks away the moment he’s distracted. She darts to hide behind me, but I can’t stop moving. I close the distance to Javier and land a fist square in his face.

My knuckles blaze as he shakes it off and lunges for me, throwing his arms around my middle. I shove him off, and he swings. His punch connects, and wet heat explodes from my nose. I grunt and deliver a blow to his gut, hard enough to make him double over with a wheeze.

Voices filter through the red haze, shouts and shrieks. I don’t care. I won’t stop until I’ve beaten this monster to a fucking pulp. I trip him and lay a boot in before someone grabs me from behind. I wrestle against the constraint, trying to break free, but this guy is strong, and when I slow my struggle, Daisy’s terrified expression is like water on fire.

I sag as Javier staggers back, hunched and groaning, blood dripping from his nose and mouth and a gash in his cheek. I’m satisfied that he needs a doctor, but the fact that he’s still standing stokes my fury all over again.

I lunge for him, but whoever holds me back has arms like a vise. Daisy rushes forward, her fingers fluttering over my face, then resting on my chest, and I wince at the sting of her touch. My rage is extinguished by a wave of abject terror. If he hurt her…

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she whispers shakily. “He didn’t…” Tears well in her hazel eyes.

The rage returns. “You bastard,” I yell, trying to make a break for him and failing.

Javier has the gall to look me in the eye before he spits blood and smirks. “Get the fuck off my property,” he says. “You’re fired.”

My hands shake as I stuff everything I own into my ancient duffel, and my thoughts run at a mile a minute, my brain imagining what could’ve happened if I hadn’t come back. If I’d waited another hour. Another half an hour. Another minute. Daisy moves around our room in silence, collecting things from the dresser, the closet, the floor. I refuse to let her leave the room, even to get our things from the shared bathroom. When I return, I find her perched on the edge of the mattress, staring into nothing.

I fall to my knees at her feet. “Darlin’, I’m so sorry.”

Her smile is tremulous, and she threads her fingers into my hair before resting her forehead on mine. “Why on earth are you sorry? You were right.”

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to push away the guilt and self-reproach of failing to protect her.

“And that’s why I should’ve gotten us out of here the minute I realized that guy wasn’t safe for you to be around,” I say. “Fuck. This isn’t the life I want for you. Running from sex offenders in foreign countries. No home base to go to when we’re in trouble. You deserve better.”

Her fingers tighten in my hair, and her jaw hardens. “This isn’t your fault. You did what I wanted, which was stay. I’m mad at myself for not seeing it. I thought he was a dick—not dangerous.”

“The two are not mutually exclusive.” My hands slide over her thighs and hips, and I wrap them around her waist. “This isn’t your fault either. You know that, right? The guy’s a predator.”

She stares through me for a moment before her eyes refocus. “I do know that, but thank you for saying it out loud.”

“Tell me honestly.” I swallow and brace myself. “Are you okay? He didn’t…? I mean, did he… hurt you?”

Daisy releases her grip on my hair, and my throat is tight even after she shakes her head.

“No. It happened so fast. I was alone, and then I wasn’t, and then you were there.” She releases a shuddering breath. “I’m okay.”

I cradle her cheek, scanning her pretty face as the panic rises again. “If I’d followed my instincts weeks ago, this never would’ve happened.”

She gives me a half smile and sad eyes. “You can’t think like that. It’ll drive us both crazy. Let’s agree to learn from it and move on. I don’t want to think about it anymore. Please?”

I study her closer, wondering whether she’s saying that to save my feelings, but she appears to mean it, and I don’t want to make this worse for her.

“If that’s what you want,” I say, “but if I had followed those instincts, at the very least, we’d have an exit plan up our sleeves. As it stands, I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“I’ve got a little money saved,” she offers. “Enough to pay for somewhere cheap to stay through the end of the week.”

“That’s more than I’ve got,” I say with a grimace, “but I’ve got enough to cover another two or three days. That gives us time to find something else.”

“We’ll be okay.” Daisy nods with determination. “We’ll figure it out.”

I brush her cheek and wonder how I ever got lucky enough to find this woman. “What if we forget the gig in Portugal, and I go with you back to California? We could take a break. Spend time with your family. Save a little extra money before traveling again?”

Daisy seems taken off guard, brows knitting together before she turns her head away. Before I can ask her what’s wrong, there’s an unexpected tap on the door. Although the sound is quiet enough to be called timid, Daisy’s eyes grow round. My heart beats a little faster, and I guide her to stand behind me before I open it.

On the other side, looking small and uncertain, is Lucy.

“Hey,” she says. “Do you have a minute?”

I glance at Daisy for an answer.

“Of course,” she says with a wave of her hand. “Come in.”

Lucy steps in and hands Daisy a slip of paper as I close the door.

“This is the name and number of a place outside Madrid. They run English immersion programs for locals, and they’ve sometimes got spare rooms. It’s not horse work, but it’s a good gig. I wasn’t sure if you needed somewhere to go, but if you do, they might be able to help you.”

Daisy throws her arms around Lucy. “This is fantastic. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“How about you?” I ask her. “Do you have to stay here? I can’t say I like the idea of leaving you behind with Javier running the place.”

She gives me a rueful smile. “I was headed home next week anyway, so I changed my flight. I’ll be in a cab to the airport in about an hour.”

Daisy sags with relief, then hugs Lucy again. “That’s a smart decision. What about—”

“Kirk and Monica are out of here too. Packing their bags as we speak.”

“Oh.” Daisy sets a hand on her chest. “That makes me feel better.”

“Me too,” I say.

We exchange farewells, and Lucy disappears into the hall. When it’s just the two of us again, Daisy holds up the piece of paper. “This might save us.”

“And if it doesn’t, you know I’ll figure something out, right?” I slide my arms around her waist and pull her hips to me. “You’ll never be without somewhere to sleep and food to eat. I’ll take care of you, Darlin’. I promise.”

She twines her arms around my neck, then presses her cheek to my chest. Right over my heart. “I’ll never doubt it.”

“I’m sorry we’re in this position, but I’m not sorry for punching the guy. I’d do it again.”

My muscles tense at the reminder of Javier, and Daisy’s fingers gently brush the hairline at my nape. “I know, and I love you for it.”

My heart, which was beating steadily a moment ago, stops at her words, then takes off again at three times its usual pace.

I bury my nose in her hair, breathing her in. “You’ve never said that before.”

Her pleased hum vibrates against my chest. “You’ve never gone into battle for me before.”

“Is that all it takes?” I draw back to look into her eyes. “Beating the shit out of a guy who thought he could lay his hands on you?”

“That’s not all it takes.” Her gaze is full of trust, and it makes me hold my breath, knowing the work I need to do to be worthy of it. “But it sure doesn’t hurt.”

nine

Beau

I allowed extra time to get to the stable to account for Ollie’s shorter legs, so even interrupted by Dylan’s visit, we arrive on time.

The stable itself is a renovated structure big enough for twelve horses, though Silver Leaf only has six. Next to it is a rebuilt barn house, all white cladding, glass walls, and smooth stacked stone. The landscaping looks new, like everything was recently planted and watered and hasn’t had time to grow in yet. Freshly painted traditional post-and-rail fencing separates the paddocks and stable from a thick, wide lawn.

I’ve worked on ranches all my life and seen some stunning properties, but this is something else. It belongs on a postcard. It’s literally picture-perfect, and the irony isn’t lost on me. Look at the life Daisy’s got, and here I am, in my beat-up hat with a kid in secondhand boots from Goodwill. A couple of strays who wandered into a fairy tale.

“What do you think?” I ask Ollie.

He looks around and screws up his nose. “It smells funny.”

“You’ll get used to it,” I tell him, then nudge him with my elbow. “Head up, buddy. Back straight. Eyes front. Let’s make a good impression.”

He does me proud, raising his chin and trying to copy my swagger as we step into the stable. The horses are in their stalls, and Daisy’s already here. The sight of her quickens my pulse, and I pause to soak her in.

She moves exactly as I remember, naturally and unconsciously beautiful in tight blue jeans and a white T-shirt, black flannel shirt tied around her waist, dirty boots, and butterscotch hair in a braid.

Even after a year without her, or maybe because of it, being near her knocks me on my ass. I clung to her so desperately when we were together that I can’t erase her now. All the mornings we spent taking care of other people’s horses and the nights we drank and danced and fell into bed at the end of it. All the times she slept beside me and woke up in my arms. My body remembers even when my heart tries to forget.

I spent all weekend rehearsing this moment—what to say and how to say it. In the end, I decided being agreeable to the point of invisible is my best bet to get on Daisy’s good side.

“Mornin’,” I say to let her know we’re here. It takes effort to be smooth, and I think I’ve managed it until Ollie shoots me a curious look.

Daisy startles and lifts her head from where she’s been murmuring into the ear of a golden mare.

“Good morning,” she says without looking at me. Instead, her attention is on Ollie, and the smile she gives him is a kick to the gut. It’s real, like the ones she used to give me.

“Mornin’,” Ollie says, dropping the g in a way that makes me do a double take. His mother and I grew up in the South, but we were both thrown out the day we turned eighteen. Sarah moved around a lot, same as me, same as my parents, and she was raising Ollie in San Diego when she took off. He’s never sounded particularly Southern.

The unexpected twang makes Daisy grin. “What you got in your bag there, cowboy?”

Ollie glances at me for reassurance, and I give it to him with a dip of my chin.

“Water,” he says. “A sandwich. Gloves. Spare socks.”

“Good man, arriving prepared,” she approves. “Do you want to meet the horses?”

Ollie nods and stands a little taller, and I manage to be grateful that Daisy’s all about him this morning. Behaving like I don’t exist might have more to do with making my nephew comfortable than it does with hating me.

Daisy taps the brim of Ollie’s hat. “Great! Let’s do that first, then your uncle can muck out the stalls, ’kay?”

Maybe not.

Daisy strokes the nose of the golden mare. “This is Chardonneigh,” she says. “She’s the sweetest horse ever. I’m not supposed to have favorites, but between you and me…” She drops her voice to a whisper. “Chardonneigh is mine.”

“Chardonneigh?” I repeat.

Daisy shoots me a murderous look. “Yes. You got a problem with that?”

I cross my arms and fight a grin. Damn. I love it when she’s feisty.

“Nope. Just making sure I heard you right.”

She glares for a second longer before moving on to the next stall.

“This is Stallion Blanc,” she says, gesturing at a pale gray horse. Her glare challenges me to laugh, and when I raise my palms in surrender, she goes on. “He’s a retired rodeo pickup and the perfect gentleman.”

Her emphasis on gentleman is clearly for my benefit, and I smirk again.

In the next stall is a small sorrel gelding. “This is Mabel. He belongs to my niece, Izzy.”

“But Mabel is a girl’s name,” Ollie protests.

Daisy chuckles. “Tell that to my niece.”

“Can I pat him?” Ollie asks.

“Sure.”

She waves Ollie closer, and he approaches with a hesitant shuffle.

“He’s really big,” Ollie mumbles nervously.

“He is,” Daisy agrees. “That’s why we go slow to start, and it’s also why an adult needs to supervise. Are you ready?”

Ollie frowns with determination, and I’m proud of him as he steps forward.

“Raise your hand like this,” Daisy says, demonstrating the safe way to offer a horse the back of his hand. “Let’s see if Mabel is in the mood to sniff you today.”

Ollie copies her carefully, and I hold my breath, silently praying that this horse doesn’t reject a kid who desperately needs to belong somewhere right now. Mabel’s nostrils flare, and his fat tongue whips out in a smooth lick of Ollie’s fingers. His thrilled giggle is a welcome punch to my chest.

“He likes you,” Daisy says to Ollie.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah, and Mabel is an excellent judge of character.” She glances at me. “Should we see what he thinks of your uncle?”

Ollie grins—he actually grins—and I’m struck with an old impulse to kiss Daisy. For a moment, I forget where I am, remembering how good it felt to hold her anytime I wanted. How incredible it was to know she wanted to be held.

How many times have I dreamed about her arms locked around my waist or the soft press of her body against my chest? The morning after a night like that is always hard. There’s a split second between asleep and awake when I forget she’s not mine anymore, and then reality hits that much harder. One dream of Daisy, and any hope of getting over her comes undone.

Daisy and Ollie are waiting, so I offer my hand to Mabel, and he sniffs it before lapping my fingers the way he did Ollie’s. My nephew watches with wide-eyed wonder. I recognize that look. It’s the one I had the moment I fell in love with horses. The smell of hay, the strength of a horse underneath me, the bone-deep satisfaction of honest work. The kid’s a goner.

Daisy huffs. “Well. Even Mabel has his off days.”

I keep my smile small and my mouth shut as she introduces us to the rest of the horses. There’s De Canter, a chestnut gelding with a white nose, and Marelot, a strawberry roan, and finally a small but sturdy black gelding named Pony Noir.

The wine theme isn’t subtle, and I want to tease her about it. Once upon a time, a good-natured gibe at the right time would’ve made Daisy laugh with an intoxicating mix of derision and adoration. I’m not sure it wouldn’t get me a kick to the shins today. I’d take that too, quite frankly, but I keep the wisecracks to myself.

The tour of the stable is really for Ollie, not me, because within moments of stepping inside, I understand the place instinctively. I know how Daisy operates, and working in a stable she runs feels brutally close to coming home. But still, I hang off her every word, not because she’s my boss, but because I could survive off the sound of her voice and not much else.

When we’re done, she hands Ollie a carrot.

“Now, Ollie. There’s one important rule while you’re here,” she says. “You’re never to be in the stable or around the horses without me or your uncle there to make sure you’re safe, okay?”

He nods and she prods a little further.

“I need to hear you promise.”

He places a palm on his chest, and I swap his left hand for his right so he’s swearing over his heart. “I promise,” he says.

Daisy tweaks his hat. “Good. Why don’t you see if Pony Noir’s in the mood for that carrot while I chat with Uncle Beau?”

Ollie agrees, and I watch as he approaches the colt. Of course, Pony Noir snaps up the treat, but his lips are gentle, and I get an immediate sense of the horse’s nature. He’ll be a good one for Ollie to learn alongside.

Daisy’s watching too, until she tips her head and moves a few paces back.

“You got any leads on a new job?” she asks in a low voice, hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans and eyes on the dirt under our feet.

“I sent a couple of emails,” I say. It’s not a lie, but I don’t hold much hope for the queries I’ve made, so it’s as good as sending none. “You lined up my replacement yet?”

Daisy scowls. “Not exactly.”

“You’ve got six horses here, plus the trails. And who takes care of the business side of things? All the administrative responsibilities?”

Her eyes get hotter, which might as well confirm that Daisy has plans to run a one-woman operation. She’s bullheaded enough to try—and stubborn enough to fail before she asks for help.

“You can’t do it all on your own,” I say.

“I can handle more than you think,” she says sharply. “I’ll figure it out.”

“I know you will,” I say with a calmness I don’t feel, “but I’m already here—”

“And the only reason for that is the little boy over there. As soon as you’ve made other arrangements, you have to go.”

“Daisy—”

“Don’t you understand how cruel this is?” Her voice is husky and pained. “I haven’t heard from you in a year, and now you stumble into my life by mistake? This isn’t fair. I just got over you!”

A sharp pain twists between my ribs, but I remain stoic as I check that Ollie hasn’t overheard. He’s still enamored with Pony Noir, but I turn my shoulders to block his view of us, just in case.

“If you’re over me,” I say quietly, “then why were you wearing my bracelet?”

Her mouth falls open, and she glances at her wrist. Even though the bracelet isn’t there today, she crosses her arms and wedges her hands in against her sides.

“I wear it to remind myself to never again fall for a guy like you,” she says.

“A guy like me?”

“Yeah. One who says one thing and does another. A man who makes promises and then breaks them. A man who doesn’t know the first thing about truth or loyalty or honor.”

I roll my shoulders, trying to loosen the tension in my neck and fighting the urge to defend myself—or fire accusations of my own. “Daisy—”

“I’m making calls too.” She takes a step back, moving out of my reach, which draws my attention to the fact that we’ve somehow drifted closer. “One of us will find something before the week’s out.”

My nostrils flare. “Fine.”

Daisy wants me out of her life, and a year ago, that’s exactly what I tried to give her. Maybe her anger and defensiveness are justified. Maybe there are a thousand ways to explain why I did what I did, and maybe some of my reasons are even her fault, but none of them will make things right.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. What did or did not happen between me and Daisy is irrelevant. I’ve got Ollie to think about now, and my only priority is to be a good example for the man he’ll someday become. And that starts with providing the kind of life he needs and deserves.

ten

Daisy

Charlie finds me hiding in the barn house around lunchtime the next day. She lets herself in and glances at the boxes stacked along one wall. I moved the rest of my belongings down from the main house last night, but I haven’t had a chance to unpack anything, unless you count the way my T-shirts spill out of one suitcase and my boots have tumbled out of a shabby cardboard box.

“You need help with those?” she asks.

I look up from my laptop. “Huh?”

She tips her head toward the mess. “Do you want help unpacking?”

“Oh. Thanks, but no. I’ll get to it.”

“Okay, but the offer stands if you change your mind.”

I hide my grin as Charlie surveys the room, her fingers twitching with the impulse to tidy up, before she drops into the second camping chair I borrowed from the main house garage.

“We missed you at the business meeting this morning,” she says.

“You had coffee with Dylan,” I say distractedly, “which you do every day. You’ve never missed me before.”

“True, but I was hoping you’d be there to update us on the situation with hiring.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Is that CEO speak for ‘what’s the situation with your ex and his kid?’”

Charlie tilts her head like she expects better from me. “We need to talk about it. If not as sisters, then because yes. I’m CEO.”

“You’re right.” I push away my laptop and scrub the grit from my eyes. I haven’t slept a full night since Beau arrived. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there this morning, but I’m handling it. You don’t need to worry.”

Charlie laughs dryly. “Telling me not to worry is like asking me not to breathe.”

I smile despite myself, and her expression turns thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“When you came home last summer, I thought it was because after ten years away, you were finally ready to return to Silver Leaf, but that wasn’t it, was it?”

My stomach tightens, and it must show on my face because Charlie’s expression softens.

“I’m not going to pry, but I have to ask one thing. If Beau meant that much to you, why did you never tell us about him? Or bring him home so we could meet him?”

I shrug and curl in on myself. “I don’t know. We traveled a lot, and we worked all the time. I guess I was waiting for the right moment.”

“How long were you together?”

I look at my hands in my lap, then pick at a broken nail. “Sixteen months.”

Charlie’s brows shoot up. “Wow. So it was serious?”

My heart clenches at how serious it almost was. “You could say that.”

“And if things hadn’t ended,” she says carefully, “would you be here now instead of somewhere else with him?”

“I don’t know.” I force myself to meet her eyes. “Probably not.”

She nods like she’s not surprised by my answer but would have preferred another. I wish the truth was different too.

“But that’s irrelevant now,” I say. “Beau’s looking for another job, and I’m making inquiries too.” I spin my laptop to show her the emails I’ve sent. “I’m not hiding anything, and I’m not dodging my responsibilities. I’m trying to make this right.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she says. “But—”

My phone rings, cutting off whatever Charlie was about to say, and my screen lights up with an unknown number. I’d normally ignore it, but I’ll do anything to change the subject, even talk to a telemarketer.

I hit Accept and put the handset to my ear. “Hello?”

A deep voice answers me. “Hello. Is this Daisy?”

“Yes?”

“Oh, good,” he says warmly. “I’m glad I caught you. I’m sorry to call so late, but I just saw your email and didn’t want to wait.”

“My email?” I glance at my computer. I’ve sent dozens of emails in the last few days, and there’s nothing in my inbox to hint at who this guy might be. “I’m sorry—who is this?”

He chuckles, and the sound is so friendly, I find myself smiling back. Charlie tosses me a what’s going on? look, and I shrug.

“It’s Duke Montgomery. From Emberfield up at Kismet Creek?”

“Duke? Oh, my gosh. Hello! How are you? How’s Joy? And the kids?”

Duke and his wife were old friends of my parents. They run a small estate in Napa, and with five kids of their own, same as my parents, our families spent a fair bit of time together over the years. I haven’t seen, let alone spoken to Duke since I was in high school, but now that I know he’s the one on the other end of the line, his voice is suddenly familiar.

Charlie pokes my shoulder, demanding more context, so I switch to speakerphone.

“I’m glad to hear you remember me,” Duke says. “And I’m well. Joy too. And the kids?” He chuckles wistfully. “They’re your age! And all doing fine. Thanks for asking. But that’s not why I’m calling. I want to offer your man a job.”

Charlie’s brows shoot up hopefully at the same time my stomach drops.

“That’s great to hear, Duke.” I hate the way my voice wobbles, and I go on with more control. “But I didn’t send you an email about work. How did you find out we were looking?”

“Hope you don’t mind. I’m in touch with Fitz over at First Reins Ranch in North County. He shared your information as soon as he got your note.”

“Oh. I see.”

Charlie leans in, and I shut my eyes as the pieces come together. I worked for Fitz at First Reins my second summer away from Silver Leaf. Now that I think about it, Duke was the reason I got that job. Reaching out to Fitz after all these years was supposed to be a long shot at finding work for Beau. But First Reins is on the other end of the state, which would have put Beau Covington firmly out of my mind and out of my reach, so it was worth a try. Kismet Creek is about an hour north of here, and that’s an hour too close.

“So, here’s the thing, Daisy,” Duke says. “We’re losing our best stable hand in the fall, and we need someone solid to replace him. You think your man fits the description?”

I hesitate. The thought of Beau building a life so close to Silver Leaf makes my chest heavy, but I know how it’ll look if I knock this back, and Charlie already looks relieved.

“I do,” I say slowly. “He’s raising a little boy and needs something permanent. Does the job come with lodgings suitable for a child? Plus benefits?”

“Sure does.”

Charlie gives me an enthusiastic thumbs-up, and my throat tightens.

“Well, Duke, that does sound promising,” I manage to say. “I’ll talk to Beau, but I’m sure he’ll agree. Good news is that he can be there by the weekend and ready to start on Monday.”

“Oh, no,” Duke says. “No, no, no. Job’s not available until the fall. Didn’t I say that? If you’ve got something to keep your friend busy for the summer, we’ll be glad to have him here the first week of September.”

“September?” I don’t know why my muscles clench and release almost instantly. Relief? Resistance? Both? “But it’s only July.”

I glance at Charlie and catch a flicker of her grimace before she gives me a noncommittal shrug, effectively handing me the power to decline or accept.

“That’s right,” Duke confirms. “September. So what do you say?”

Can I survive eight weeks of torment if it earns my sister’s respect? Can I work beside Beau and pretend I’m fine if it means he moves on to a great job at the end of it—one that’s not only a good opportunity for him but best for Ollie too? Maybe eight weeks will give me the answers I need to finally unravel the ropes Beau tied around my heart. Eight weeks to get over him, once and for all.

Charlie waits, eyes on me, so I do the only thing I can do.

“Sounds perfect,” I say steadily. “He’ll take it.”

eleven

Beau

I creep to my bedroom door and peer through the crack. Ollie’s at the kitchen table with a sketch pad and a pack of stubby pencils, drawing another picture of Pony Noir. I’ve been teaching him about equine anatomy, and spidery lines wriggle across the page attached to labels like “mane” and “withers” and “fetlock.” He’s got most of it right, and what he doesn’t, we’ll revise later.

I ease back into the room, phone to my ear and voice low. “So what do I do?”

Ollie’s psychologist, a woman named Amy Haines, is on the line. She volunteers at a community clinic in Aster Springs, and it was pure luck that she could fit us in when I called. Ollie’s had two sessions already, and he’s supposed to see her every other week this summer, except I’ve gone and thrown a spoke in the wheel.

“You’re in a tough spot,” Amy says. “Ollie needs stability, but that doesn’t mean you need to stay at Silver Leaf. You are his source of safety now. Home is often a person, not a place, and kids need to learn to adapt and build resilience. However…”

I run a tired hand down my face. “It’d be better if I could keep my promise and find a way to make this permanent.”

“To put it bluntly? Yes.” She sighs. “If that’s not possible, I can offer strategies to support Ollie’s transition to another living environment. Do you have something organized?”

“No.” My stomach is tight with frustration. “Not yet. But I’m working on it.”

“Is the situation so impossible that you can’t negotiate a way to stay? If there’s any chance you could remain where you are, I suggest pursuing it.”

“Yeah,” I say hopelessly. “I’ll think about it. And… thanks.”

I end the call and stand frozen in the middle of my small bedroom. I thought this place was my answer to having no money, no education, and no family. The idea of searching for something just as good or settling for something nowhere near makes me so fucking mad at the world—and myself—for putting us here in the first place.

I allow myself six seconds of self-pity before I leave the room like I’ve got everything under control. Ollie looks up from his sketch pad. I haven’t told him what’s going on, but the kid’s got an instinct for disruption, and my bravado wobbles under his knowing gaze.

“Hey, buddy,” I say. “We’re due back at the stable. Go get your boots on.”

Ollie hops off his chair, eager for an afternoon with the horses, and the innocent smack of his bare feet rushing to the door stokes something fierce and protective inside me.

I don’t want my first big decision as Ollie’s guardian to be the wrong one. He’s come farther in five days at Silver Leaf than he has in the last three weeks, and I won’t jeopardize his healing by being pushed out before he’s ready. I’m not leaving this ranch without a fight.

My thoughts spin all afternoon, but muscle memory keeps me moving around the stable as I weigh up my options. We need to stay, and if that means crawling belly-down in the dirt to make it happen, I will. But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if I’m a selfish asshole for using my nephew as an excuse to stay close to Daisy even when she doesn’t want me here.

My dad always said I was good for nothing, and no matter how many times I talk myself out of believing it, life has a funny way of reminding me of all the ways he was right.

When we’ve bedded down the final horse for the day, Ollie hovers at a closed stall door, running his hand over the flat of Pony Noir’s nose.

“I really like him,” he tells me as I double-check the latch on the neighboring stall.

“He’s a beauty,” I agree.

“But he belongs to someone else, doesn’t he?”

“He does.”

“So I shouldn’t get attached?”

“It’s smarter not to,” I say, “but that’s what working in stables is like sometimes.”

He peers up at me. There’s a smudge of dirt on his chin and a rosiness to his cheeks that wasn’t there this time last week. “What do you mean?”

“You meet a new horse,” I explain. “You grow to love him, and you take care of him as best you can. He learns to trust you—even love you back; horses are like that—and then you move on. But there’s always another horse who needs you, and it’s a good feeling to be needed.”

The corners of Ollie’s mouth turn down. “But I don’t want to leave. If Pony Noir loves me, won’t he wonder where I am? He might think I stopped loving him, and I never want him to think that.”

My throat aches and my voice is gruff. “It’s part of life as a stable hand. Some things are permanent and others last only as long as you’ve got the job.”

“What are the permanent things?”

I hesitate. What are the permanent things? What do I have to show for the life I’ve lived these last fourteen years? An old hat. A few trinkets. A woman who can’t stand to look at me.

“The skills,” I say as honestly as I can. “The lessons you learn and keep learning. The memories too. Nothing can take those away.”

Ollie’s shoulders fall. “Is that all?”

“Well, now that I’ve got you and you’ve got me, we’re permanent,” I tell him.

He nods like it’s not what he was hoping for, and I watch him stare with wistful adoration at Pony Noir. The impulse to give the horse his heart is written across Ollie’s face, but so is the fight to stay guarded.

Impulsively, I roll up my shirt to show him my ribcage, which is bare except for the only tattoo I’ve ever gotten. “This is permanent,” I say.

Ollie inhales sharply, then leans in to examine the lines in the falling light.

“Are they flowers?”

“Daisies,” I confirm.

He scrunches his nose. “Why would you get a tattoo of daisies?”

His disgust is exactly what I’d expect from a ten-year-old boy, and I grin because he sounds so normal.

“Because some things have a way of getting under your skin,” I say. “Permanently.”

Someone clears their throat behind me, and I let my shirt fall with a silent curse. I spin and see Daisy standing in the open doorway. The setting sun glows around her silhouette, catching the curves of her hips and the golden fall of her hair. She’s far enough away that she might not have heard me, but close enough that she could have seen my tattoo.

“Day’s done,” she announces. “It’s time for you boys to head out.”

I stuff my shirt into the waistband of my jeans and let Ollie lead the way. Daisy high-fives him as he passes, and he’s already kicking up dust in the yard when Daisy stops me with a hand on my bare forearm.

I freeze at the contact. This is the first time she’s touched me in more than a year, and my eyes fall to her fingers against my skin.

She snatches her hand back as if burned, and I force myself to lift my chin and keep my focus forward.

“I found you a job,” she says.

The storm inside me is swept aside and replaced with a different kind. She found me a job? I look for signs that she thinks this is a good thing, but her arms are crossed and she’s concentrating on the ground underneath her feet.

“What job?” I ask. “Where?”

She stuffs her hands into her back pockets, then pulls them out again and recrosses her arms. “It’s stable hand work at a place called Emberfield up at Kismet Creek. Long term. Family friendly. Nice people. It’s a good fit.”

I nod and look away, trying to process what this means. I never thought I’d be a part of Daisy’s life again, but now that I am, I don’t know how I’m supposed to walk away from her for a second time.

Ollie has found a stick and is drawing a horse in the dirt. Daisy follows my line of sight, and we watch him in silence for a moment.

“If we have to go,” I say, trying to sound unconcerned but coming off cold, “then probably best it’s sooner rather than later. Best for Ollie, that is.”

“About that.” Daisy scuffs at the dirt, then stops herself. “Look. The job isn’t until the fall. It’s up to you, of course, and we can keep looking for something else, but…”

I turn to face her, and she meets my stare with a clenched jaw. “But… what?”

Her eyes flash before she exhales. “But if you want the job in Kismet Creek, you can…” She mumbles under her breath, drawing my attention to her mouth.

I blink away the memory of those lips on mine. “I can… what?”

She huffs and throws up her arms. “You can stay. Keep working here for the summer.”

“You want me to stay?”

She scowls. “Don’t flatter yourself. I want Ollie to be safe, and if you turn down this opportunity, you might not get another offer as good.”

“I take this job, and we get to spend the summer here with you?” I repeat, because the offer and her attitude do not make sense together.

Daisy crosses her arms. “That’s right.”

I glance again at Ollie, who watches us with a furrowed brow until I catch him staring, and he spooks before returning to play in the gravel.

I’ve got no clue if this is the best thing for him. I know it’s not the best thing for me. I don’t need an entire summer with Daisy to know what I figured out in the sixteen months we spent living in each other’s pockets—that there was never a real place for me in her life and she was the one who didn’t want to admit it. If anything, a summer might be just long enough for me to unlearn that lesson, and that’s going to hurt.

But it’s not like I’ve got options, and this way, there’s time to prepare Ollie for another change.

“Can you do it?” I ask. “I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have.”

She shakes her head with a short, incredulous laugh. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

Her words cut, no less because they’re true. I remove my hat and run a hand through my hair, looking at Ollie for the strength to accept her offer.

“Your plan’s a good one, so I’ll take you up on it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She turns and strides away from me like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

twelve

Daisy

(Then)

We’re living and working at a ranch in Alberta when our one-year anniversary comes around. Somehow, Beau gets us off early from work, and we borrow a truck so we can drive into town and stroll Banff Avenue.

“My God,” I say as we wander past the boutique shop fronts and bustling eateries lining the parade to white-capped Cascade Mountain. It hasn’t snowed in a few days, so the streets are easy to walk, but I’m still wearing my winter jacket and boots. “This place is so pretty. Why don’t we spend more time here?”

Beau tightens his fingers around mine and pulls me against his side. “Because it’s fucking freezing,” he grumbles.

I laugh and snuggle in against him as we walk. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm.”

We spend an hour looking in shop windows and sipping on to-go cups of hot cocoa. When sunset paints the horizon with broad strokes of pink and gold, we buy cheese and bread and wine. Then we drive out of town, escaping the artificial lighting via the Lake Minnewanka Loop and pulling into an almost-empty parking lot to enjoy the stars.

Soon, we’re swathed in blankets in the truck bed, a half-empty bottle of red between us and breadcrumbs lining the covers, staring up at a sky that goes on forever. My head rests on Beau’s chest, his arm wrapped around me, and I’ve never felt so happy.

A little way up the lot, giggles reach us, followed by a sigh that’s nearly a moan, and then silence.

“I’m sorry it’s not just us,” Beau says. “I thought this would be romantic.”

“It is,” I assure him, “and I kind of like that we’re not alone. It’s nice to know there are people in love everywhere. Like there are little pockets of happiness all over the place. It makes me feel more hopeful about the world.”

His embrace tightens, and he drops a kiss on the top of my head. “There’s nobody like you, Daisy Darlin’. Don’t ever change.”

I hum contentedly and wriggle closer. We stargaze for a while, the silence wrapping around us like another blanket, until my mind wanders as it always does when there’s nothing between me and the night sky.

“My mom loved the stars,” I murmur, my breath forming a cloud in front of my face. “She taught me all the constellations.”

“Oh, yeah? Do you recognize any now?”

“Maybe. It’s been a while.” I scan the stars for patterns. “Oh! There’s Orion the Hunter,” I say, pointing to a collection of brighter stars. “Those three in a line? That’s his belt.”

“I think I see it,” Beau says.

“That’s Taurus and Canis Major right by Orion. And over there is Cancer the Crab.”

“Will you tell me about her?”

At first, I think he means the astrological sign, but a moment later, I realize he means my mom. He asks like I might say no, probably because I’ve done my best to avoid the subject until now. But something about the stars makes me feel closer to her, almost like she might be listening, and I can’t stand the thought of breaking her heart. That’s surely what would happen if she knew a boy I loved wanted to know her and I said no.

“You don’t have to—” Beau starts to say, but I cut him off.

“She was blonde, like me,” I tell him, feeling both lighter and sadder as faded memories float through my head. “But her hair was poker straight, not wavy like mine, and her eyes were the color of caramel, like my brother Finn. She was a real spirit even when she was alive, if that makes sense. She was an artist—a painter, a musician, a poet. And she loved to be outside. Our family camped every weekend in the summer, and we’d lay like this under the stars, naming constellations and telling stories.”

“She sounds special.”

“She was.” My throat feels tight, but I keep talking. “She ran the trail rides on our ranch, and we rode together every chance we got. All us kids spent time with the horses, but Mom and I loved them the most.”

“Who takes care of the horses now?”

I clear away the guilt and regret rising in my throat. “There are none. There’s not enough money to keep them and nobody at home to take care of them.”

“But your brothers and sister—”

“The horses were Mom’s thing,” I say a little too sharply. “Mom’s and mine.”

Beau strokes the hair from my face. “We could visit them, you know. Spend some time in California. And I’d love to meet your family one day.”

His words trigger a rush of panic. Even though Beau and I have been together for a year, I haven’t told my brothers or sister about him. It’s easier to keep what I feel for Beau separated from the baggage attached to Silver Leaf. The Daisy who grew up on that ranch was all hopeful innocence. The eighteen-year-old who left was broken by grief. The woman I am now is happy. The idea of trying to marry all the versions of me puts knots in my stomach.

“One day,” I say with a smile I hope he believes.

His brows draw in. “Family’s important—if you have one. I don’t want you to miss out on that part of your life because of me.”

The subtext is clear. Beau talks about his family less than I talk about mine, but I understand what he’s trying to say. His mother never did much to warrant the title, and his father has a sixth sense for showing up the moment Beau has cash in the bank. I’ve seen it myself. The random calls to guilt Beau into handing over his savings, which his dad says he needs in order to care for Beau’s mom, a woman who never picks up the phone at all.

Beau’s family and mine couldn’t be more different, and yet here we are, trying to build something that means we never have to go back to either one.

“It’s not because of you,” I say. “I’d go home if I wanted to, but I don’t. Not now.”

“Okay, Darlin’.” His arms are warm and certain around me. A safe place. And the panic I felt at the suggestion of going home starts to ebb away. “We’ll do it your way.”

“Thank you,” I whisper right before a bright spot of light falls from the sky.

My fingers tighten in his shirt. “Did you see that?”

He laughs in disbelief. “Yep.”

“So pretty,” I say with a satisfied sigh. “I’ll never get used to seeing a falling star.”

“Did you make a wish?”

I pause. “Huh. No.” I turn my head, seeking his lips with my own. “I guess I already have everything I could ever want.”

He kisses me, and I close my eyes, savoring the taste of him and the heat of his body, matched perfectly to the cold snap in the air and the cherry pinot noir that lingers on my tongue.

“Mmm.” Beau’s thumb brushes my arm as he opens his eyes. “I wish I could give you more than wine from the bottle and a sky we have to share with strangers.”

I hate it when he does this. It’s not all the time, and it’s not always so pointed, but it’s often enough that I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever convince him of his worth.

I turn my face into his shirt and inhale the scent of him. “I just want you.”

He’s quiet so long that I turn toward the stars again, both of us staring up into the arching nothingness.

“You know what’s funny?” I ask. “The sky is so big, and the stars are so overwhelming, that the longer we’re here, the smaller I feel—and I like it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I smile to myself. “It’s like there’s an infinite number of possible lives out there waiting for us. All we have to do is choose one. That’s a hopeful way to look at things, don’t you think?”

“I guess it is.” He pauses. “So if you had to choose one of those lives right now, which one would you take?”

“Easy.” I snuggle in closer, and Beau sweeps the corner of another blanket over us, adding an extra layer to our cotton cocoon. “I’d choose this one. Working with you. Traveling with you. Snuggling under the stars with you.”

“In the back of a borrowed truck?” he asks.

I ignore the hint of self-derision. “Why not?”

Beau takes a deep breath, then shifts a little as he dips a hand into the pocket of his jeans.

“Happy anniversary, Darlin’,” he says, opening his palm to reveal a fine silver chain strung with glinting little daisies.

I gasp and sit up, lifting the bracelet from his hand and holding it high to admire its detail. “Where did you get this?”

“A secondhand store in Banff, so it’s not brand new, but the sales assistant managed to get the shine real nice.”

“It’s beautiful,” I say. “Here. Help me put it on?”

Beau’s thick fingers make quick work of the clasp, and soon, the jewelry dangles from my wrist. I can’t stop looking at it. “But… we agreed on no gifts. The money—”

“I had a little extra saved,” he cuts in. “I didn’t use anything we’ve set aside for the flights to Jackson Hole.”

“I didn’t think you had,” I tell him gently.

“But you’re right. I’ll never be able to give you expensive things.” He touches the bracelet thoughtfully. “No diamonds. No California ranches.”

“You know I don’t care about that.” I glance at his gift, suddenly annoyed, and I get to my knees as I try to unclasp it. “And I don’t need this if you’re going to be weird about it.”

He rises as well, so he can stop my clumsy fiddling with a hand over mine. “Don’t you dare.”

I scowl. “All right, fine. I’ll keep it. But on one condition.”

“Oh, yeah?” His mouth tips up with amusement. “I didn’t know this would turn into a negotiation.”

“It’s not. It’s an order.” I hold up my arm and count the charms. “Seven daisies? Seven promises for the life we want to make together. Let’s lock this in now so there’s no more confusion about what we want our life to be.”

He eases back on his heels, his expression as amused as it is adoring, and I do the same.

“All right.” He takes my wrist in his hand and taps the first flower. “Promise number one: we spend every cent we make. We work to fund our next adventure. Money will never define us.”

My pulse leaps, and I grin. “Agreed. Promise number two: our pasts won’t define our futures. Where we came from doesn’t matter. What we left behind doesn’t matter. Tomorrow belongs to you and me.”

He cups my face and pulls me in for a kiss, then nudges the next daisy. “Promise number three: you never give up that temper.”

I gasp. “I don’t have a temper!”

His grin stretches wide. “Yeah. You do. And that fire is mine, got it?”

I lift my nose into the frigid air. “Fine. Promise number four: when I’m sick, you’ll always be there with a cold washcloth and Coke.”

He looks at me like that was already a given. “Always,” he says. “Promise number five: no matter what kind of day we’ve had, we always sleep in the same bed. We can go to sleep angry, just not one without the other.” His eyes grow intense. “I’ll always hold you, Darlin’. If you want them, these arms are yours. No matter what.”

“I like that,” I say softly, emotion making my voice catch, and the closer we get to the end, the bigger my heart swells. “Promise number six: this life is a choice. Life will get hard, and some days will be harder than others, but in the end, we’ll make it if we choose us.”

“Every time.” Beau swallows hard. “And promise number seven: you’ll always be my north star. My direction and my reason for everything. I’ll follow you anywhere, Darlin’, because there’ll never be anyone for me but you.”

I blink away tears and thread my fingers into his dark hair. I don’t care about the infinite possible lives mapped out for me in the sky. I’ll choose this man every time. “Never.”

Beau takes my face in his hands and kisses me slowly, tongue stroking and lips soft, and my blood starts to warm.

“Do you want to go back to the ranch?” His voice is low and husky, his mouth tipped up at the corner. The imperfectly perfect gap between his teeth winks in and out of sight, making my stomach flip.

“Yes,” I say, imagining a night—a lifetime—with him tangled up in our sheets, and desire makes me shiver. “Yes, I really do.”

thirteen

Daisy

Charlie’s online accounting system is going to kill me. I’ve spent an hour searching for a particular report, and even with a video tutorial, I can’t find what I need. I can’t believe this is how my short and not-so-bright stint as mistress of my own destiny is going to end. Death by software.

I scowl at the screen and click the same link again and again, praying it’ll take me where I need to go. It doesn’t. I tap the mouse button even harder and lean in with a growl. “Just—give—me—last—month’s—freaking—”

The doorbell rings, and when a final violent click still doesn’t give me what I want, I push the laptop away. Before I can get to the door, the bell rings again, demanding and impatient. I yank on the oversized door, and it sweeps open on a gust of air that blows loose tendrils of hair off my frowning face.

And there he is. Beau, with Ollie at his hip, grit swirling around them like he arrived with a dust storm at his back.

Ollie coughs as Beau waves to clear the air.

“Oops,” I say a little sheepishly. “I was just… Never mind. What’s up?”

He takes off his hat like I’m going to invite him in, and I try to take up more space in the wide doorway. I can’t believe I used to adore every little thing about this man. The way he’d make his coffee extra hot, then forget where he left his cup, so by the time he drank it, the brew had gone cold. The way he wore odd socks and shirts with enough holes they’d be better used as rags. The reassuring heat of his body next to mine and the snuffling sounds he made in my hair as he slept.

Now his entire existence seems geared to piss me off.

Case in point. The beard. Specifically, the mustache. The more I look at the obnoxious addition on his top lip, the more it annoys me. Given the circumstances, that’s probably a good thing. Focusing on that is a hell of a lot safer than thinking about anything else, including the chain of daisies I saw inked into his ribs. Beau doesn’t have tattoos. At least, like the mustache, he never used to.

“Do you have a minute?” he asks.

It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. Too warm for trail rides, which in the summer are scheduled early and late in the day. Beau’s supposed to be between shifts right now, at home with Ollie or out running errands, not hanging around here, and he senses my curiosity before I ask.

“Horses are hosed,” he confirms. “They’re watered and grazing out of the sun. Ollie was a big help with the hay today.” Beau ruffles the boy’s hair. He’s been taking fashion tips from his uncle; his jeans and flannel should have been tossed out a dozen wears ago. “Never seen a kid his size lift so much. He’ll sleep well tonight.”

“Uncle Beau let me up into the hayloft today,” Ollie declares proudly. “He said it’s like a… a… premonition.”

Beau grins. “A promotion,” he corrects. “And you earned it.”

Ollie puffs out his chest, and when I hold up my palm, he smacks it with a firm high-five.

“Awesome work, cowboy,” I say. “Sounds like you earned yourself a soda.”

He gains an inch in height as he lifts onto his toes, then glances at his uncle. “Can I?”

“Sure. If you take off your boots first and get me one too.”

“Kitchen’s out back,” I say as Ollie shucks off his boots. “You’ll know you’re in the right place because it’s got cupboards and a sink, but until I get a refrigerator, the sodas are in the cooler. There might be a bar of chocolate in there too. Help yourself.”

Ollie pokes his head into the house, then moves slowly inside, looking around like he’s not sure he should. Beau removes his own boots—odd socks underneath, of course—then encourages Ollie with a brush against his back.

“Go on,” he says. “I’ll be in the living room with Daisy.”

I wait until Ollie’s out of earshot before I close the door behind Beau. “Who says you’re making it past the threshold—or that you deserve one of my sodas?”

Beau turns his hat in his hands, then stops himself when I glance at it.

“I just need five minutes,” he says.

I narrow my eyes, and when he doesn’t back down, I roll my eyes and sigh. “Fine.”

Beau shadows me into the living room, which in addition to my folding table, camping chairs, and beanbag, now features a wide green velvet sofa and a soft rug underneath a glass-topped coffee table.

“Nice,” he murmurs as he scans the exposed beamed ceilings, the stacked stone fireplace, the floor-to-ceiling glass and pastures beyond.

I parse his tone for sarcasm and find none. “Thanks. I only just moved in. I haven’t had a chance to furnish the place properly yet.”

He nods at the laptop. “Are you working?”

“Trying to,” I reply, thinking about the accounting program holding my future hostage.

“Right.” Beau grimaces apologetically, like the reason I can’t work is him and not the ghost haunting my computer. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced, but I don’t get a moment without Ollie by my side, and what I have to say needs to be said without him around to hear it.”

“This is about Ollie?” I don’t know why, but Beau’s manner, the almost deference that is so unlike him, raises the hairs on my arms. “What’s wrong?”

Beau opens his mouth, then closes it again as his focus trips on something over my shoulder. It’s Ollie, hovering in the doorway with two cans of soda in his hands.

Beau waves him closer and accepts a drink, cracks it and hands it back, then takes the other while Ollie gulps a long slug from the open can.

“Thanks, buddy,” Beau says. “Hey. Think you can dig out your sketch pad and take it onto the porch? Sit outside the window there where I can see you and draw something for Daisy. I bet she’d love a picture of Pony Noir.”

“I really would,” I say, playing along.

“I can draw more than horses,” Ollie says, already pulling out a spiral-bound pad of paper and a box of pencils. “I can do trees too.”

“Think you could draw Pony Noir under a tree?” I ask. “I’d pay good money to see that.”

“Easy!” He tucks his stuff under one arm so he can juggle his soda and open the door.

We’re quiet until he’s outside, watching through the glass as he arranges his things on the hardwood porch, then crouches over his paper and starts sketching.

“What happened to his mom?” I wonder out loud, then add, “It’s none of my business. You don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay,” Beau says, eyes on his nephew. “His mom—my sister, Sarah—was always a little unpredictable. She fell in and out of love a lot, and not always with guys who treated her right. She moved around, following these men she thought she loved, leaving Ollie with our parents when she didn’t want to take him with her, but they aren’t the best people to raise a little boy.”

He huffs, determination reflected in his posture. “Sarah called me this time and asked me to take him. She’s in New Mexico now, or she’s supposed to be. I’ve texted her to let her know where we are and how she can reach us if she wants to, but she hasn’t responded.”

“Oh.” My heart aches for this little boy. “That’s awful.”

Beau clears his throat. “Yeah, so that’s kind of the reason why I’m here now. The kid has hardly any clothes, and what he does have doesn’t fit him. His boots are secondhand, and he’s got blisters on his toes. I need to buy him new stuff, but…”

He clenches his jaw as he stares intently at Ollie.

“But… what?”

Beau’s Adam’s apple bobs with a deep swallow. “Can I get an advance on next week’s salary?”

I frown for a split second, then sharpen my focus on Ollie. It makes it easier to hide my surprise. Beau’s the proudest man I know. He never asks for anything, especially money. If backed into a corner, he’d rather go without, and he’s too proud to ask for a favor or special treatment under any circumstances—or he was.

I don’t make a big deal out of his request, even if part of me is tempted to make him sweat a little. It’s for Ollie, and providing for a kid isn’t something I’ll joke about. Instead, I head straight to my enemy laptop and start clicking around for the payroll screen.

“Bear with me a moment, will you?” I say as Beau follows and stands across the folding table. “I need to find the right page.”

He keeps one eye on Ollie as he waits, but soon my growls and mouse violence draw him around to my side of the table. He takes one look at the program and snorts lightly.

I glare up at him. “What?”

“You’ve got no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

“Pfft.” I hunch my shoulders, the warmth of his body and casual amusement stirring things deep inside. “I know exactly what I’m doing. It’s the software that’s not doing what it’s supposed to do.”

Beau reaches around me, his knuckles brushing my arm as he goes for the mouse, and I jerk my fingers away with just millimeters to spare before his rough, warm palm lands on the back of my hand. I swallow hard, his familiar scent clouding my senses. Soap and spearmint gum, horses and hard work. Him.

I lean away, but his body cages mine, and my stomach fills with butterflies.

“Here,” he says, voice smooth against my ear as he navigates to the payroll interface. “If you just click on this…”

He confidently finds his way to the correct screen, and I stay very still as I watch the cursor move, more focused than I should be on the play of Beau’s breath against the back of my neck. Goose bumps spring up, and I panic.

“I knew that,” I snap, landing an elbow in his ribs, hard enough that he grunts before straightening up. I take charge of the mouse and scroll for his name, but when I find it, there’s no obvious way to advance him next week’s salary.

The pressure of his eyes on me becomes too much, and I finally slam the laptop closed, snatch up my wallet from the table, and hand over a silver credit card.

“Take it,” I say. “Buy Ollie what he needs, and we’ll reconcile the costs later.”

“I’m not taking your money.”

“It’s not mine,” I lie. “It belongs to the business. And Ollie’s got to wear the correct gear if he’s going to be hanging out in the stable. Go shopping and collect the receipts. We can sort it out later.”

Beau looks at me with suspicion, and I can guess at the fight he’s having with himself. He knows I’m lying as well as I do. I meet him stare for stare, his warm brown eyes deep and liquid, and I wish I wasn’t so stubborn, because as long as I refuse to be the first to look away, I’m trapped in a hell of my own making, caught by a pair of eyes I know better than my own.

In the end, Beau is the one to drop his gaze. He takes the card from my outstretched hand and slips it into his back pocket. “Thank you. I’ll pay it back.”

“I know you will.”

He glances at me uncertainly, wondering if it’s threat or faith that he hears in my tone, and I respond with a blank look until movement on the porch snags our attention, and Ollie wanders back in.

“This is an excellent picture, Ollie,” I say when the little boy shows me the sketch he’s done. “Do you think I could keep it? I’m going to need art for my refrigerator when it arrives.”

Ollie beams at Beau first, then me. “Yes, you can keep it.”

“Awesome. Thanks. Why don’t you go put it on the kitchen counter so it doesn’t get lost?”

“Okay,” he chirps, then disappears into the house.

“Thank you,” Beau says.

“You’re welcome.” I cock my head to one side. “If you need help with Ollie, I could ask Dylan and Poppy about setting up a playdate with Izzy. It’s summer and she’s a high-energy kind of kid, so I’m sure she’d love to make a new friend. You could even take Ollie to the restaurant for dinner sometimes.”

Beau grunts. “Your brother already offered to help, and I already said no.”

I drop my arms and turn to face him. “You saw Dylan?”

Beau chuckles, short and dry. “He came past the cabin to warn me to stay away from you.” He looks at me from the corner of his eye. “It was cute.”

It’s my turn to scoff. “I’d say I can’t believe he did that, but I can. I didn’t put him up to it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Not at all.” Beau’s mouth turns up a little on one side. “You never needed anyone to fight your battles before.”

“Well, I’m home now, and having three big brothers comes with advantages.”

He smirks. “I get it, but don’t worry. I’m not about to overstep or do anything to risk my job.”

His tone gets my back up. “I never said you would.”

Beau’s soft lips twitch again, but his attention is diverted when Ollie walks back into the room.

“Go put your boots on, buddy,” Beau says. “It’s almost time for the afternoon shift.”

Ollie ducks back out onto the porch, and we follow more slowly.

“Thanks again for the advance,” Beau says. “I’ll take Ollie shopping this weekend and get the card plus receipts back to you on Monday.”

“Aster Springs can be a little disappointing for shopping,” I tell him, “but if you drive to Santa Rosa, you’ll have better luck.”

“I appreciate the advice.” Beau slides on his boots, then puts on his hat and tips the brim.

“Sure,” I say. “No problem.”

But it is a problem. As soon as they’re on the porch and I’ve spared a wave for Ollie, I push the door closed, then set my back against the smooth timber. I don’t want to think well of Beau—I don’t want to think or feel anything at all—but judging by the way my skin tingles and my heart races, I’m a long way from reaching that goal.

And as long as we keep tiptoeing around like this, letting the tension and chemistry and unanswered questions simmer between us, I’ll never get there at all.

fourteen

Beau

(Then)

It’s been two months since the night in Banff, and I can’t count the times I’ve taken our promises and turned them over in my head, wondering if I made a commitment I can’t keep. To spend everything we make. To choose this life over and over. To follow wherever she goes.

Living on the road used to be easy, but now, every time we pack up, something in me drags its feet. I don’t mind starting again. It’s the part where we leave that I’m beginning to hate. I never wanted to live an ordinary life, and in most ways, I still don’t. Except…

I could see myself doing it with Daisy, and that life being extraordinary.

It’s been a long day at our new job in Kentucky, and Daisy’s already at our cabin when I walk in carrying the dinner I picked up from the mess room. She’s curled up on the bed, looking cute in oversized sweats, her hair wet from the shower. I stall at the door as I imagine walking into a bedroom much nicer than this one, in a house that’s ours, every night forever and finding her exactly like this. The possibility makes me warm.

Daisy has her phone at her ear, and she looks up when I arrive.

“Hey, listen,” she says to the person on the line. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later? Bye.”

I give her a curious look as I set our food on the two-seat table in the corner of the room.

“Hey, you,” she says, rising to her knees. “What you got there?”

“Something different.” I flash her a grin. “Roast beef.”

“Again.” With a resigned sigh, she comes to the table and unpacks the containers while I grab sodas from the in-room mini fridge.

“I’ll wait to eat until you’ve showered,” she says. “But hurry. I’m starving.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I start to drag my shirt from the waist of my jeans, but something makes me pause. “Who was that on the phone?”

“Hmm?” Daisy snatches a stick of carrot from her plate, then glances at me, distracted. “Oh. Nobody.”

I take a beat to decide whether to push it, then quirk a brow. “Nobody?”

She clicks her tongue as she fusses with her plate. “It was my brother. I called to check in and ask about my niece. She’s five now.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe it.”

“That would be Dylan, right?” I say. “And Isobel.”

Daisy opens and closes an empty container, then another. Any excuse to not look at me. It’s been fourteen months, and she’s still uneasy when I ask about her family. I understand—to a point. We agreed to leave our pasts in the past and focus on a future that belongs to us, but I’m not sure how realistic that is. If things between us continue the way they are, I expect to be part of her family one day. And I want her to know I care enough to ask.

“That’s right,” Daisy says. “And Izzy for short.”

I wait for more, and when she doesn’t offer it, I add, “And…?”

Daisy gives me a puzzled frown. “And what?”

“How are they doing?”

“Oh. They’re good. They’re fine. You know. They’re getting by.”

“Is everything all right?”

She tosses a nibbled piece of meat back onto the plate. “Business isn’t going great,” she says. “The ranch is a big operation—or it was. There are no horses, of course, and barely any overnight tourists. The restaurant is struggling. The tasting room and wine sales keep us afloat, but even those are slow.”

I hide a grunt by peeling off my shirt. Daisy’s definition of struggling and mine couldn’t be more different. Her family owns a vineyard in Sonoma Valley. Even without horses or a busy restaurant, the fact that they can keep the property open at all tells me that things aren’t as bad as Daisy fears. Where I came from, tough meant no dinner three nights in a row and holes in my school shoes, boiling water to keep the bath warm, and my sister cutting my hair when it grew too long. But none of that is helpful now.

“You’re worried about them,” I say.

Daisy lifts one shoulder. “No. Yes. I’m always a little worried, I suppose, but my sister has it under control.”

I hesitate, knowing that my next suggestion will put her on the defensive. “Maybe it’s time we paid a visit to California.”

Daisy freezes. “What?”

I unbutton my jeans, trying hard to play it cool and keep the tension from bubbling over. “Wouldn’t you like to spend some time there? When was the last time you went home?”

Daisy worries her lip, then abandons our dinner to return to her spot on the bed. “Izzy was three years old.”

“It’s been two years?” My tone earns me a sharp look, and I smooth the surprise from my face. “I bet they’d love to see you, and I’d like to meet them.”

Her brows draw down. “Why?”

I gather my patience. “Because they’re your family?”

“Oh.”

I push my jeans off and stand there in my underwear. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She fidgets with the corner of the duvet cover. “Nothing. I just… I like what we have now, you know? I’m not ready to change it yet. Is that wrong?”

She looks so vulnerable that I regret bringing this up again. I lean my fists on the mattress and drop a kiss on her upturned mouth. “It’s not wrong,” I say. “But—”

“Why are you pushing this?” she snaps. “You promised the future would be about us. You and me. My family’s ranch isn’t part of that equation.”

I straighten, not sure if I should be offended. “Do you think I’m after your ranch? Or… your family’s money?”

“What?” Her hazel eyes grow wide, and she rushes to the edge of the mattress, rising to her knees so we’re eye to eye. She squeezes my upper arms. “No! That’s not what I mean at all.”

I shake my head and draw her against me. “I’m sorry. You hit a sore spot.”

She releases a breath and presses her soft lips to the side of my neck. “Your dad?”

The warmth of her body and the scent of her hair calms me, and I take a long inhale. “Yep.”

“Have you heard from him lately?”

“This afternoon. Not long before I finished up for the day.”

“Oh, Beau.” Daisy tightens her embrace, and I welcome the comfort, letting my frustration and irritation leech away. “What did he want?”

“The usual. Mom’s sick. They’ve got no heat. He can’t put gas in the car. They’re about to be evicted. Can I send him some money?”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

I take a moment to wrestle with my rising anger, then lift my head and step out of her arms. Now I’m the one who doesn’t want to talk about family. “He’s an asshole, and I’m broke, so it’ll be a while before he tries again.”

Daisy waits for eye contact, her head dropped to one side with concern, and when I give it, she threads her fingers through mine.

“There’s more,” she guesses.

I let my head loll back, wanting to get in the shower and wash the day away. Start again like this conversation never happened. But one of us has to be honest first.

“Ever since I met you, there have been days I forget all about him,” I say. “There are times I want to make something of myself. I imagine building something, owning something, creating something that would make another father proud.”

“I get that,” Daisy says, but her voice is small, like the suggestion that I might want to change who I am frightens her.

“But there are days when I want to burn it all to the ground,” I continue. “Be nothing. Have nothing. Give him no reason to keep calling. He’s a loser, and sometimes I look at the life I’ve got and wonder if I’m just like him.”

Her eyes are glassy as she shakes her head. “You could never be like him.”

“How do you know that?” I pace away. “I’ve lived this way because it kept me safe from him, but things are different now that I’ve got you. I want to be better than him. You deserve a man who can take care of you.”

Daisy gets to her feet and stands across from me. “You forget that this version of you is the one I fell in love with.”

“Yeah.” I run a hand through my hair. I know she means it, but that doesn’t make me believe it. “Right.”

She takes a hesitant step forward, and I close the distance to take her in my arms. My mouth captures hers, soft and willing, and I keep kissing her until I find my way to a clear head.

All I need is a life with Daisy, and it shouldn’t matter what it looks like. But later that night, when she’s asleep beside me, I dream again about something different.

What if I’m worth more than my father let me believe? And what if Daisy is the person to finally make me see it?

fifteen

Beau

It’s early afternoon, my T-shirt is damp with sweat, and Ollie shadows me while I groom the horses. We drove up to Santa Rosa over the weekend, and after wandering around a store for ten minutes, a sales assistant helped us pick out new jeans, shirts, and boots for Ollie, as well as shorts and sweatpants for time off and sleep. It cost me more than I thought it would, but the card didn’t decline, and I owe Daisy for helping me out with no questions asked.

Might have been better if she did give me a hard time, or at least made a smart comment. I’d feel less like a charity case and more like someone she wants to spar with. Her equal. Then I remember I’m not.

Once I’ve finished brushing Mabel’s coat and picked over his hooves, I turn to Ollie, who’s brandishing his brush beside me, and plant my hands on my hips.

“Okay, buddy. You’ve proved yourself an excellent horseman this week. I think it’s time you helped tack up.”

Ollie’s brown eyes brighten, and I meet his excitement with a grin. The way he’s taken to the horses makes me proud. He’s quiet and serious most of the time, but when he does speak up, his questions are sharp. And I was right about him being a natural.

“Really?” he says.

“You bet. Daisy’s niece, Izzy, is going for a ride with her aunt this afternoon, so we need to get Mabel and Chardonneigh ready. Think you can handle that?”

“Yes!” he says. “When do we start?”

“Right now.”

Ollie sticks to my side while I lead Mabel out of his stall and into the open air, where I secure him to a tie rail. I retrieved the tack earlier, and I pick up the saddle pad.

“Always tack up from the left side—or the near side,” I say.

“Why?”

“That’s just the way it’s done. Now watch closely.” I heft the pad in my hands. “This is the saddle pad. It collects sweat and prevents rubbing while riding.”

Ollie nods, eyes trained and mouth serious, and I hide my smile as I throw the pad over Mabel’s back, follow with a half pad, and then pick up the saddle.

“Settle this on top and adjust until it’s in the right place.” I heave the saddle onto Mabel’s body, then push it farther down the gelding’s back. Next, I tug on the saddle pad above the withers. “Allow at least three fingers here. Or in your case, a whole hand.”

I slip my hands under Ollie’s arms and lift him so he can see what I mean, and he puts his hand under the edge of the saddle pad to check the fit.

“Looks good,” he approves.

I set him down and pick up the girth. “This is Mabel’s belt,” I explain. “Watch closely how I attach it to the saddle.”

Ollie lifts onto his toes to study the way I snap and loop the leather strap, then shadows me to the other side, where he helps me finish buckling the girth. I test the give in it.

“You want room for the shoulder to move here,” I tell him. “And space for the horse to breathe.”

“Got it.”

“And you want to check this again before you ride,” I add.

Ollie pays close attention as I replace Mabel’s halter with a bridle, looping the reins over his neck and gently slipping the bit into his mouth. I watch as Ollie buckles the throat lash, and I show him how to check the give. Mabel tosses his head while I do up the nose band, and I move Ollie back to keep him out of the way.

“So,” I say when we’re done, “think you can remember all that?”

“Yes!”

“All right. Let’s try again with Chardonneigh.”

We’re finishing a final check when Daisy steps into the lot. She’s in her usual jeans, boots and braid, holding the hand of a little girl with dark hair. Izzy’s wearing breeches and tall boots, and she balances a riding helmet between her arm and her hip.

They approach easily, Daisy lengthening her stride when her niece skips ahead.

“Hello,” the girl says, pulling to a dusty stop in front of Ollie. “I’m Izzy and I’m seven. Who are you?”

My nephew shuffles closer to me, and I give him a gentle nudge with my elbow.

“I’m Ollie,” he answers. “And I’m ten.”

Izzy grins. “Pleased to meet you, Ollie.”

Daisy’s quiet, and I squint up at the midafternoon sky, then wipe the sweat from my face with the back of my forearm. “Good day for it.”

“It is,” Daisy agrees. “Thanks for tacking up.”

“No problem.”

We stand there awkwardly until Daisy notices Ollie’s new clothes. They fit better than anything he owned before, and she hinges forward at the waist to get a better look.

“Well, hey there, cowboy! You’re looking smart in your new boots.”

Ollie glances down at his toes. “Thanks. We got them on sale. Twenty percent off.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “True.”

“Are you going riding with us?” Izzy asks Ollie.

The little guy lights up like a glowworm, then turns his hopeful brown eyes on me. “Can I?”

My heart splinters into a thousand pieces. “Oh, buddy, I don’t think—”

“Please?” Izzy adds, tugging on her aunt’s arm. “That sounds like fun!”

“Well…” Consternation coasts across Daisy’s brow, but it’s gone when she turns her attention to Ollie. “Have you ridden a horse before?”

Ollie wilts a little. “Oh. No, I haven’t.”

“That’s okay,” Izzy says. “Isn’t it, Aunt Daisy? We can teach him.”

Daisy throws me a questioning look. I cover my surprise and answer her with a slight nod, after which Daisy matches her niece’s smile. “Would you like that, Ollie?”

“Yes!” Ollie trembles a little, and I realize he’s on the verge of tears. “I would really like that.”

Daisy grins and taps the brim of Ollie’s hat. “Okay, then, cowboy. We’ll stay in the yard and Izzy can help me teach you some of the basics—how to mount properly, keep your balance, hold the reins. Let’s saddle up Pony Noir. I think he likes you.”

Heat bursts into Ollie’s cheeks as his face splits with a grin. My chest expands at the sight of it. I catch Daisy’s gaze over the top of my kid’s head. Thank you, I mouth.

She takes a second too long before she finally says, You’re welcome.

Daisy and Izzy mount and ride at an easy pace around the paddock while Ollie and I get Pony Noir saddled. My boy bounces on his toes the whole time.

“Can you believe it, Pony?” he asks the patiently waiting horse. “I finally get to ride you!”

The lesson starts with Ollie on his feet and Daisy revising things I’ve already taught him. I try to keep an eye on Ollie while untacking Chardonneigh and getting shit done around the stable. Daisy doesn’t need a reason to think I’m slacking off, but eventually, I give up. I don’t want to miss a moment of Ollie’s first ride, so I lean back on the fence, arms crossed and hat shading my face, as Daisy picks up the lunge line.

Ollie puts a foot on the step to mount, pausing to gaze up at the animal he’s going to try to master, and hovering there between living out a dream and giving in to fear. He searches for me, uncertainty clear in his expression, and I cross the yard without a second thought.

“Hold on to the saddle here,” I say, showing him where to grip the leather. “And put your other hand over here. That’s right. You’re going to pull yourself up and throw your leg over at the same time. One smooth, swift movement.”

“He’s so big,” Ollie whispers, quiet enough that I need to lean in. “I don’t want the girls to think I’m scared, but I am. Just a little.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” I murmur so only he can hear. “It’s always a little intimidating the first time, but I’m right here. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

Ollie gives me a firm nod, then with a big breath of courage, he hoists himself onto the saddle. I grin and make sure he’s settled, then step back to let Daisy show him the correct way to handle the reins.

“Loosen your fingers,” Daisy prompts. “You don’t need to hold so tight. Pony’s not going anywhere.”

Ollie’s fingers slacken, and as Daisy tugs the gelding into a gentle walk, I keep up on the other side. Except for a sideways glance, Daisy ignores me and concentrates on Ollie. His shoulders are high, his knuckles white on the reins, and if he doesn’t loosen his muscles, he’s going to be complaining tonight about the ache in his thighs. I can tell by the way Daisy studies him that she notices it too, and within a few minutes, she corrects his posture.

With Izzy on Mabel a few paces behind us, I stay close for a little longer. Daisy keeps coaxing Ollie toward confidence, and once I’m sure he’s more comfortable, I hang back to let Daisy do her thing.

Against the fence, I pull my hat lower, ostensibly to block the sun from my eyes, but really to hide the way I watch her. She’s magnificent. Distracted the way she is by the horses and guiding Ollie, and with Izzy competent enough to ride on her own in slow, safe circles, I’m able to lean back and just look.

I’ve seen her this way a hundred times. Maybe even more. So confident and capable and incredibly beautiful. My throat tightens when I think about our first night together, then every night after that, and not for the first time, I wonder about all the things I gave up when I gave up on us.

“That’s it!” Daisy exclaims as Ollie completes a lap.

His shoulders are looser than they’ve been so far, his spine is straighter, and the rhythm of his hips finally matches his horse’s gait. Daisy encourages him with gentle direction, and Ollie wavers between intense concentration and unbridled joy as he learns something new, then gets it right.

To the side and a little behind them, Izzy follows on Mabel’s back, calling encouragement and corrections like she’s Daisy’s little deputy. Ollie doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, I think he likes it. His grin gets wider every time Izzy’s perky shouts reach him, and his happiness loosens the month-old tension in my chest. It feels so good to relax that I forget we’re not supposed to be here and we’re not going to stay.

Daisy brings Pony Noir to a halt at the hitching post, and I push off the fence to help. Daisy assists Izzy’s dismount while I pick Ollie out of his saddle, then set his new boots on the ground.

“You did great,” Daisy tells him when we’re standing together between the horses.

Ollie’s eyes shine. “Do you mean it?”

“I do. That may be the best I’ve seen a kid ride for his first time.”

“Did you see me, Uncle Beau?” Ollie asks. “How did I look?”

“Like a real cowboy,” I reply. “But much more important than how you looked—how did you feel?”

He takes off his helmet, and his flushed cheeks puff out with a smile. “Really good!”

I set a hand on his slender shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

His joy lights him up like I’ve never seen, and I glance at Daisy, who watches Ollie with a surprising mix of pride and pleasure.

“He’s a natural,” she says.

“Yeah. He is.”

Our eyes meet and hold for a half dozen beats of my racing heart. The gold flecks in her hazel eyes are exactly as I remember them, and the instinct to move closer still exists in my body. It hurts to ignore it, but I do. All this pretending like we don’t know each other, never loved each other, is harder than I thought it would be.

I’m the first to look away. “Let’s take care of the horses,” I say.

Daisy and Izzy help untack, pulling off the leather and hosing away the sweat, brushing coats and checking hooves. Izzy twitters beside Ollie the entire time, and my nephew seems a little dazzled by her energy. I’m grateful for it, because it keeps Daisy’s attention on the kids. We work side by side in silence, with the kind of affinity that proves we’ve done this before, and the process takes less time than it would without them.

There’s always more work to be done in a stable, but Daisy has no trail rides this afternoon, so there’s no reason for her to linger, and it’s a relief. I want to be near her so badly that I need space to get my head on straight again.

“We’re going into the house for ice cream,” Izzy announces, and it takes me a moment to realize she’s talking to me. “Do you want some?”

“Uh.” I look at Daisy, her face smooth, then at Ollie, who stands beside Izzy with hope clutched between his clasped hands.

“Your Aunt Daisy doesn’t have a refrigerator,” I say stupidly.

“It was delivered yesterday,” Daisy replies.

“Right.”

“Can we?” Ollie begs. “Please?”

“I don’t know, buddy,” I say carefully. “There’s still work to do.”

His face falls, and Daisy jumps in. “Boss says you’ve earned a break,” she says. “Come on. I’ve got chocolate sauce and marshmallows too.”

Daisy walks ahead with the kids, and I follow, feeling like an interloper. Inside the house, Izzy bolts for the kitchen, and Ollie runs after her.

“Wash your hands!” Daisy calls after them, and almost instantly, the water runs at full force in the next room. The clink and clatter of silverware against ceramic bowls comes next, and I watch from the living room as Daisy helps the kids scoop balls of vanilla ice cream, which they top with sauce and candy.

“Still don’t have a dining table,” Daisy says. She hasn’t looked directly at me since that moment in the paddock. “So how about you kids eat this out on the porch steps? If you make a mess, I can hose you down like the horses.”

Izzy giggles first, then Ollie follows with an uncertain chuckle, and the pair balance their bowls and spoons as Daisy ushers them onto the back porch. They sit side by side on the top step, close enough that their shoulders press together, and I wish Ollie had been given a life like this from the start. If I let myself think about it, the outrage that his childhood has been anything but easy grows too great to bear.

Daisy hangs back in the kitchen, putting away the ice cream before it melts.

“You didn’t have to do this,” I say.

“Ollie’s a good kid,” she replies, busying herself with a wet sponge and wiping away the drips of sugar on the counter. “I like him.”

“Yeah, he is.” I pull the credit card from my back pocket, then the bundle of receipts, and set it all on the counter. “It might take me some time to pay it back, but I’ll send checks from Kismet Creek.”

Daisy stops wiping and stares at the card. “You’re different.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Well, I do. In the entire time I’ve known you, you never once asked for a favor. You never asked for help or admitted you couldn’t do something on your own. You were proud to the point of painful. If someone said you couldn’t, you’d do it just to prove them wrong. You’d break before you bent. And now…” She glances once at Ollie. “You’re different.”

Daisy’s description of me pokes at old wounds of worthlessness. I was only ever proud and stubborn and so fucking selfish because I had something to prove, and that began to crumble when Daisy came into my life. It fell apart altogether when I was made provider and protector of a little boy who needs me.

Ollie suddenly laughs, and Izzy giggles along with him. Their bowls sit empty on the porch boards alongside them.

“I’ve got work to finish before we head home,” I say roughly. “I’ll get Ollie cleaned up and head out.”

Daisy glares at me, and it seems like she’s going to push it, and for a moment, I want her to. There’s so much boiling inside me, and so much between us we haven’t said, that I’d jump at the chance to argue, but in the end, she shakes her head and throws the sponge into the sink.

“Have you changed?” she asks, her back turned. “Or was I too oblivious to notice you were always scared of your own shadow?”

I blink at how close she comes to the truth. “I was always scared,” I say. “Just not in the way you think.”

I step outside before she can answer and leave her staring out the kitchen window behind me.

sixteen

Daisy

“Event bookings are up forty-five percent for the fall,” Charlie says, running her finger down a printed spreadsheet. The table is covered with them, all our papers and reports scattered around the pastries and coffee that fuel our business brunch. “That’s good, but if we can increase it by another ten to twelve percent, I’ll feel better about pushing through the low season.”

“I’m waiting to hear back from three prospective clients,” Dylan replies. “Two weddings and a corporate lunch. I’ll follow up today and let you know if I get any confirmations.”

“Perfect. And the plans for Chord’s retirement party next month?”

“Consider the catering under control,” he says. “Assuming the guest list hasn’t changed?”

Charlie picks up her tablet and scrolls through her emails. “Nope. It’ll be most of the team, coaches and management, and some other names I’ve included for networking purposes. Now that Chord’s no longer playing for the Fury, I might need to renegotiate our beverage supply contracts with the arena.” She frowns at the screen. “The marketing team wants to run a campaign around Chord’s retirement and our party here at the ranch. It’ll be great exposure for Silver Leaf.” She hesitates, glancing first at Dylan, then at me. “He’s going to say no, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know,” Dylan muses. “Our big brother might not mind the ego boost.”

“Good point.” Charlie looks thoughtful, then shakes it off and pushes a stack of papers toward Dylan. “Don’t forget to email me everything for digital recordkeeping.”

“I won’t,” Dylan assures her, then under his breath, he says to me, “Just like I email them every week.”

We share a sneaky grin, and Charlie looks up from her screen with a suspicious look. The conspiracy melts from our faces, replaced with wide-eyed innocence, and Charlie snorts.

This is my fifth meeting with Charlie and Dylan, but really, it’s brunch at Dylan’s restaurant while we make sure Charlie’s happy with how things are running. I was way under-prepared for my first session, so I’ve been passing my reports by Dylan before sharing them with our sister. She’s been happier with my output this week, though I don’t know why I’m so relieved.

My sister was right about running a business. It’s boring and so, so tedious. I still don’t know my way around the software, and when I go looking for a tutorial to fix my problem, I spend hours watching videos of hot cowboys making cannoli and shirtless men in gray sweats skipping rope. What should take minutes to complete takes hours instead.

Being a boss is a pain in the ass, but I can’t let Charlie know how I feel.

Don’t get me wrong. I love overseeing the horses, and it’s nice to have nobody breathing down my neck, but the paperwork is torture, and I’d pass it to someone else if I could. I recall the saying about a wise leader knowing when to delegate. Maybe Charlie would respect me more for giving up the parts of this job that don’t come naturally.

I watch her study my profit-and-loss statement, bottom lip caught between her teeth and a ballpoint pen sticking out of her messy bun.

Yeah, she’s not going to buy it.

I shift closer to my brother, and he sets down his mug of coffee to lean into my whisper.

“How much longer am I going to be stuck here?” I ask. “I’ve got Chardonneigh tied up out front, and I want to check out a potential new trail before the vet gets here.”

Dylan sits up straight and scowls out the windows. “You didn’t put her near the veggie patch again, did you? I lost half my radishes last week. If she gets her nose into my summer squash, I’m charging you for the feed.”

I scoff quietly. “She’s nowhere near your veggies. I put her near the herbs.”

“You—” Dylan growls, then yanks the tie from my ponytail.

“Hey!” I swat him away as my hair tumbles out. “Cut it out!”

He tweaks my nose, and I flap my hand again, missing him by a mile.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

“Keep your horses out of my crops,” he retorts, poking my side while my arms are raised to re-tie my hair; I jerk as he hits my most ticklish spot, “and maybe I won’t have to be.”

I give up on my hair and punch him in the ribs hard enough to make him grunt.

Charlie clears her throat. “Do I need to separate you two?”

“He started it,” I say at the same time Dylan says, “It’s her fault.”

We share a smirk as Charlie sighs and closes the folder with my reports. “Everything looks good, Daze. You’re doing a great job.”

“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it, even while wondering how I’ll ever wriggle my way out of the business admin now.

Dylan casts me a sidelong look like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“How’s the situation with Beau?” Charlie asks, and a dark cloud descends over Dylan.

“The situation is fine,” I say flatly. “Six weeks from now, he’ll be in Kismet Creek, and we can all move on with our lives.”

“And his replacement?”

I busy myself scooping up my paperwork. “I’ll finalize the job ad first thing next week.”

Charlie exchanges a look with Dylan, and I pretend not to notice. I know they care, but it’s hard enough dealing with Beau on my own. I don’t need to live under their microscope, especially when my goal to get over him feels harder by the day.

“Mind if I skip out early?” I throw my napkin onto my plate and jump to my feet. Charlie looks ready to object, so I hurriedly add, “Dr. Lawson is due at the stable in an hour, and there’s a new trail I want to check out on the ride back.”

Charlie can’t argue with business. “Oh. Okay. If I don’t see you over the weekend, we’ll meet you here same time on Monday.”

I salute at the same time I kick Dylan’s ankle under the table.

“Ow!” He leans down to rub the bone.

“Serves you right. Bye, loser.”

After judging that Chardonneigh has decimated a perfectly acceptable portion of Dylan’s squash, I take my time returning to the stable. The trails around Silver Leaf never get old, and though I spent my childhood exploring every inch of them on horseback with my mom or with my siblings on foot, there’s always somewhere I haven’t been. Our property is close to two hundred acres of vineyards, riverbanks and woodlands, and when we were kids, Mom and Dad would take us into “the wilderness” on weekends to camp under the stars. And though we rarely strayed from our property, they always found something new to show us. It was my favorite thing about my childhood—that home was an adventure.

As my brothers and sister grew older and we stopped camping together, Mom and I still went out every other weekend, just the two of us. We’d ride and talk all afternoon about school and friends and what I planned to be when I grew up, and she’d tell me about the cities she wanted to visit and the experiences she still hoped to have. At night, we’d light the fire, toast marshmallows, and gossip about boys. I’d share my latest crush, or if there was none, I’d dream about my future out loud. Long, impossible descriptions of the man I’d marry. He’d be tall, dark, and handsome, of course, with a passion for horses, and my mom would adore him. I’d ask her how I could tell if he was the one, and she’d brush my hair from my face and say, you just know.

The way I take is less a trail and more a beaten path through the woods. I came across it a few days ago, but to make it suitable for guided rides, I’d have to get in here with some equipment and clear a wider road. I press as far as I can, but soon, the track narrows too much to continue, and I turn around, undeterred. This old trail could be one of those adventures Mom took us on, and thinking about reestablishing a trail we rode together boosts my post-business meeting bad mood.

It’s just past noon when I get back, the stable and surroundings quiet the way they are in the middle of the day. I approach as a shiny silver truck pulls into my drive. Dr. Lawson is a sixty-something man who’s been our vet since I was a kid, and I’ve never known him to drive anything but his old Ford. I dig my heels into Chardonneigh, spurring her into a canter, as a dark-haired guy with broad shoulders, Wranglers, and dusty boots steps out of the vehicle.

And he’s certainly not Dr. Lawson.

The stranger looks at ease, not lost or needing directions, and the closer I get, the more I sense that I know him. When he hears the hooves barreling toward him, he turns to see who’s about to run him down. Even with a hand shielding his face from the sun, I recognize those crinkly eyes behind dark-framed glasses anywhere.

“Emmett!”

I swing out of the saddle and jump into his arms, and he spins me around in a hug.

“Now that’s the kind of welcome that could go to a man’s head,” he says, laughing as he sets me down. He holds my waist to steady me, and I squeeze his shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

He lets me go and takes a step back. “Dr. Lawson is on an extended vacation, and he asked me to cover his practice for the month.” Emmett crosses his muscled arms and sweeps his eyes over me, brows waggling. “You’re looking good, Daze.”

I punch him the way I would any of my brothers. “Shut up.”

He just chuckles.

Dr. Emmett Montgomery is the second son of Duke Montgomery, the same man who called me about the job for Beau. I’ve known Emmett all my life. The Montgomery kids were as good as our cousins, if not better, but I haven’t seen him in ten years. He was tall and lanky as a kid, but now in his early thirties, he’s filled out in all the right places.

He reaches into his truck and pulls out a heavy black bag. “Should we get started?”

“Let’s do it.”

I lead Chardonneigh toward the stable with Emmett by my side. “It’s good to see you,” I say. “It’s been, what? Ten years?”

“Eleven,” he says. “Last time I saw you was at your dad’s funeral.”

“Ah.” I nod like the memory is too old to hurt anymore, but my throat closes just the same.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t around more afterward,” he says, casting me a guilty look. “I was halfway through veterinarian school at the time, and my schedule was hectic…” He grimaces. “But that’s no excuse. I should’ve made a better effort. I’m sorry.”

I wave it off. “We all grew up, right? We all had our lives to live, and I was out of here not long after. I wouldn’t have been here to see you anyway.”

“Right, but now you’re home.”

I don’t mean to sigh. “Yep. Now I’m home.”

“Are you not happy about that?”

“No, I am.” I hitch Chardonneigh to a post before leading Emmett into the stable. “It’s just… complicated.”

He hums quietly. “Life usually is.”

Emmett retrieves a folder of notes, and together, we agree on the checks, vaccinations, and tests due today. I leave him to it while I untack and groom Chardonneigh, and when she’s ready for the vet, I shadow Emmett while he goes through the motions.

“So, how’s the family?” I ask.

“Good.” He loops his stethoscope around his neck and pulls a flashlight from his bag. “Mom and Dad still run Emberfield almost entirely on their own. I help out where I can, but most of my time is spent at my practice in town.”

“That’s wonderful,” I say. “What about Knox?”

Emmett huffs a laugh as he continues examining Chardonneigh. “My big brother gets grumpier by the day, but it’s only because he works too much. He helps Mom and Dad manage Emberfield plus he runs a restoration business on the side.”

“Nice,” I say. “And Noah? Still saving the world one kitten in a tree at a time?”

Emmett’s face drops. “Yeah, he is, but uh. Not sure if you heard… Noah lost his wife a little while back. He’s got two young daughters. It’s just the three of them now.”

A pang lances my chest. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. He’s doing okay.”

I nod, knowing that losing a parent—and a partner—requires more words and less at the same time. “And the twins,” I say. “How are they?”

Emmett smiles. “Piper runs a bakery in town, and Josie’s bookstore is right next door. They’re a power pair, those two.”

“I miss them,” I say wistfully.

“You should call,” he says. “Or better yet, come by sometime. Everyone would love to see you.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Maybe I will.”

We make small talk while he works, and I lose track of time catching up on ten years of history. Emmett is smart, self-deprecating, and has an understated sense of humor, so he’s easy to be around, and it’s nice to be reminded of who I used to be, even if it’s only for an afternoon.

“So, how’s Brooke?” I ask when he’s done and we’re walking back to his truck. Brooke is Emmett’s wife. They’ve been together since they were fourteen and are the textbook definition of “high school sweethearts get their happily ever after.” I’ve avoided mentioning his wife until now, knowing that asking Emmett about his relationship would invite questions about mine, and I didn’t want to ruin the afternoon by getting into it.

“She’s, uh… fine,” he says, then glances down at his clothes. He’s splashed with mud and horse saliva and other substances that shall remain nameless. “And I’m a mess.”

“Occupational hazard?” I ask with a laugh.

He huffs a laugh. “You could say that.”

I lean on the truck as Emmett hands me his glasses.

“Hold these for me, would you?” he asks.

I take them, then watch with appreciation as he peels the offending fabric off his body. He’s muscular from hard work rather than the gym, tanned, with toned arms, a flat stomach, and deceptively broad shoulders.

“Who knew all of that was under there?” I tease when he’s half naked.

He flushes as he returns his glasses to his nose, then digs around in the back of the cab for a clean shirt. “Give it a rest.”

His shyness is too sweet. “You’re like Superman. Nerdy veterinarian by day. Secretly hot husband by night.”

He scoffs and pulls out a shirt. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Are you squirming, Doctor?” I chuckle and poke his side until I hit a ticklish spot. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

He swats me away with a laugh. “Quit it!”

I don’t realize we’re not alone until someone clears his throat behind us.

I cut off mid-laugh and spin around. It’s Beau, and there’s a judgmental kind of annoyance in his dark eyes. Good. Let him feel frustrated for once.

“Where’s Ollie?” I ask.

“He’s taking a break,” Beau says, tipping his head toward a large tree between the stable and the barn house. Ollie’s sprawled out in its shade, sipping on a juice box and scribbling in his sketch pad.

I set a hand on Emmett’s bare upper arm, which is completely unnecessary. Beau glances at it, and his eyes tighten at the corners. It makes my blood race.

“This is Dr. Emmett Montgomery,” I say. “Emmett, this is our stable hand, Beau.”

Emmett offers him a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Beau grunts.

“Emmett’s parents own Emberfield,” I say, then turn to Emmett like the thought just occurred to me. “Your dad hired Beau to start there in the fall. So if you think about it, you’re kind of Beau’s new boss.”

“Oh, yeah?” Emmett looks at Beau with new appreciation, T-shirt dangling, forgotten in his hand. “Well, welcome aboard. We’ll be glad to have you.”

“Yeah.” Beau’s eyes cut to me as agitation plays across his mouth. “Thanks.”

There’s an awkward silence as I stare Beau down, daring him to take it further.

Emmett shifts beside me. “Well, I’m done for the day,” he says as he pulls his shirt over his head. “I’ll try to come by again before my locum wraps.”

“Or how about a drink?” I suggest. “Maybe dinner? My best friend’s mom owns the bar in town, and she makes the best sangria.”

“Sure.” Emmett accepts my offer with a smile. “Let me know when you’re free, and I’ll be there.”

“I’ll text you.”

Emmett nods politely to Beau before he slides behind the wheel of his truck, and Beau returns it with a short dip of his chin. Once my old friend is gone, the energy shifts, and I almost vibrate with tension.

“What was that?” Beau asks, moving closer.

I cross my arms and keep my place even though it means craning my neck to look up at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

His mouth twitches up at one side. “You know exactly what I mean.”

He’s so close, so large, so intimately overwhelming that warmth floods the aching spot between my legs. My pulse races with memories as I open my eyes as wide as they’ll go.

“You mean Emmett? He’s a family friend. I’ve known him all my life.”

Beau huffs. “Right.”

“And he’s married.” I roll my eyes to the sky, like Beau’s being entirely unreasonable. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

His mouth twitches again, but underneath his stormy eyes, I’m not sure if it’s amusement or irritation.

“You want to know how I feel when I see you with another man?” he asks.

My heart skips a beat, and my breath catches. “How?”

“Insane,” he murmurs. His gaze burns so brightly that I can’t look away, and he moves a step closer. “Destroyed. And so fucking jealous. I’ll hate any man you ever date because they’re not me.”

“They’re not you?” I almost spit, suddenly as angry as he is. “And whose fault is that?”

His jaw feathers and his eyes narrow. “We’re not having this conversation, Daisy.”

I cross my arms and glare up at him. “Why not?”

“Because who you date stopped being my business when I asked you to choose me—and you didn’t.”

My throat constricts, and I need a moment to work moisture into my mouth again. “I never said no.”

His shoulders fall, and the fire in his eyes dims. “You never said yes.”

He stalks away, leaving me behind to think about a certain question I still haven’t answered.

seventeen

Beau

“So what do you think of this place?”

Ollie scans the diner—the checkerboard floor, red leather booths, the counter with its neat row of chrome stools, the flashing vintage jukebox—and shrugs.

“It’s cool.”

Not exactly the rave review I was hoping for. “Cool,” I echo.

He returns to his laminated menu, and I study him over the top of mine. It’s our day off, and this is the first time we’re eating somewhere other than at home. Ollie’s sick of the half dozen dishes I prepare for us, and so am I, but if it weren’t for the kids-eat-free promotion, we’d be suffering through meatloaf again.

A young woman with a name badge that says “Kaitlyn” approaches our table, pen and paper in hand. “What can I get you?”

I tip my head at Ollie to let him know he should order first.

“Mac and cheese, please,” he says.

“Sure, honey.” Kaitlyn scribbles on her notepad. “Anything to drink?”

“Hmm.” Ollie squints at the menu like it’s a wine list, and I share an amused look with the server. “I’ll have a Sprite.”

“And a salad,” I add, knowing he probably won’t eat it, but at least I tried.

“No problem.” Kaitlyn notes it all down and turns to me. “And for you?”

“Cheeseburger and fries,” I say. “And another Sprite.”

“Sure thing.” She takes our menus with a practiced smile. “Won’t be long.”

Ten minutes later, Ollie is digging into a bowl of creamy elbow-shaped pasta, and I’ve smashed half my burger. The food is good, even if the salad sits untouched.

I pick through my fries, nudging the crispy ones aside and eating the softer ones with ketchup.

“What’s wrong with those?” Ollie asks.

“Nothing,” I say.

“Then why aren’t you eating them?”

“Weird habit,” I say.

He shrugs and goes back to his dinner while I take a gulp of soda, then wipe my face with a napkin. I need to tell Ollie about the job in Kismet Creek, and my stomach is tight.

“So, Ollie. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Ollie’s fork freezes on its way to his mouth. “Is this about my mom?”

The hope in his voice catches me off guard. “What? No,” I reply too fast, and his shoulders drop.

“I’m sorry, buddy. That might not be what you wanted to hear.” I sigh and shake my head. “Your mom hasn’t called. I wish I had better news for you.”

“Oh.” Ollie pokes at his food. “What about Grandma and Grandpa? Because I usually stay with them when Mom goes away.”

This is the first time Ollie has asked about what happened with Sarah, and it proves how much of his shyness has been to protect himself. I wish I’d had the sense to get advice from his psychologist about how to field his curiosity, but hindsight is twenty-twenty.

“No, I haven’t talked to them either,” I reply.

“Oh.”

I wish he were old enough to understand how complicated family can be, but even then, I might not be completely honest. I have no intention of engaging with my parents, nor would I hand over Ollie if they asked. Sarah wants her son with me.

“Ollie?” I wait for him to give me his full attention. “I know things are confusing right now, but no matter what happens next, I’m not going anywhere. You are my number one priority. Always.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Okay. Good.”

“So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Ah…” I fumble for something to say. It doesn’t feel right to tell him about my new job now, and I’m too scared to try. “Well—”

“Daisy!”

The bell over the diner door jingles as she walks in and stops at the sound of her name. Her gaze darts from Ollie to me, and she closes her eyes like she can’t believe her bad luck.

Ollie slips out of our booth and runs right to her.

“Hey, cowboy!” Daisy says. “What are you doing here?”

“Having dinner with Uncle Beau.”

“That sounds like a good time.”

“What are you doing here?” Ollie asks her.

“Same as you. I was hungry.”

Ollie grabs her hand. “You can eat dinner with us. We’re only halfway done.”

She shoots me an uncertain glance, and I stick a soggy fry into my mouth, pretending I don’t care if she sits with us or not. We’ve barely spoken a word since our confrontation about the vet. I muffle a snort. What kind of vet struts around half naked?

Since then, Daisy has avoided me, and I’ve let her. The more time we spend together, the less control I have over my emotions, and I don’t trust myself to keep my thoughts to myself anymore.

But she’s here, and self-destructive or not, I hope Ollie convinces her to stay.

Ollie tugs on her arm, but Daisy drags her feet, and I keep my expression neutral, even as my heart skips.

“Uh… maybe another time,” she says.

“Oh.” Ollie stops pulling at her. “Is that because you’re my boss? And bosses can’t be friends with stable hands?”

“No! That’s not it at all. We’re friends.”

“Really?” Ollie brightens. “So you’ll sit at our table?”

Daisy hesitates, looking at me for an answer, and I give her a one-shouldered shrug.

She puffs out a breath and says, “Sure. Why not?”

Ollie’s beaming as he shows Daisy to our booth, but she looks troubled. Our past belongs where it is—in the past—so as a peace offering, I slide over to make room beside me. She considers the space, ignores it, and slips in next to Ollie. My nephew grins like he won a competition.

“Do you need a menu?” he asks.

“Nope. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid, and would you believe they’ve had the same menu all that time? I always get either the mac and cheese or the burger and fries. Oh—and the hot fudge sundae for dessert.”

Ollie’s jaw drops. “That’s what we ordered!”

Daisy scans the plates on the table. “Wow! But what about that salad?”

Ollie screws up his nose. “Uncle Beau ordered it, but I think maybe it’s for me.”

“You’re right,” I say, picking up my burger. “It is.”

Ollie pokes out his tongue. “Blergh.”

Daisy pretends to think. “Hmm. Salad isn’t so bad, and that one looks tasty enough I might get one too.”

Ollie hurries to push his bowl at her. “You can have mine.”

She chuckles. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Uncle Beau?” Ollie says. “Can I pick a song on the jukebox?”

“Sure.” I reach into a dish on the table, which is filled with small metal jukebox tokens, then hand a few to Ollie. “Do you know how to use it?”

“I’ll figure it out,” he says before he dashes off.

By the time I return to my dinner, Daisy’s already stolen one of my crispy fries.

“He’s really come out of his shell,” she comments as we watch him across the diner.

“Yeah.” I move another fry to her pile and take another for myself. “Three weeks with me in San Diego didn’t do as much for him as half that amount of time at Silver Leaf.”

Daisy freezes, glaring at me, and I look up from my plate.

“What?”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you did,” she says.

“What I did?”

“You used Ollie to get me to let you stay.”

I meet her accusatory stare with a blank one of my own, which is as good as admitting she’s right, and her mouth curves upward with victory.

“I knew it,” she says. “I feel for Ollie, but Kismet Creek will be as good for him as Aster Springs. Better—because it’s permanent.”

“I’m sorry I was sneaky about it,” I say. “But I had to be, and you always had a heart bigger than your head.”

She snorts as she steals another crispy fry and dips it violently in my ketchup.

“How’s that working for you?” I ask.

She looks at me with fatigued exasperation, like she’s tired of the games. “How’s what working?”

“The whole head versus heart thing.”

Her lips purse, irritation brewing, before she snatches up my burger and stuffs half of it in her face. I laugh, which sets off an amused shine in her eyes, but she’s bitten off more than she can chew. It takes a moment for her to swallow, and I watch her battle the burger as my adoration swells.

“As a matter of fact,” she says, taking a mouthful of my soda, “I’ve been all about the head this year.”

My grin widens, and I raise a single eyebrow. “Tell me more.”

Her cheeks flush, but she rolls her eyes. “Grow up. That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

I chuckle, and she fights a smile.

“I’ve been leading with my head,” she clarifies, and her attempt at poise sets me off again. She kicks my shin under the table, which makes me laugh harder. “Beau! Shut up!”

“I’m sorry.” I stifle my mirth as the warmth of my name on her lips sends me soaring. “I’m listening.”

“I’m leading with my head,” she says again. “Focusing on me. What I want. What I need. How I see my life panning out.”

“Oh yeah?” I reach for my burger, and she surrenders it, then picks up another crispy fry. “And what have you come up with?”

“Silver Leaf is everything. The horses, the trail rides, the business. That’s what motivates me now and will for the foreseeable future.”

I watch her closely, noting the tightness around her eyes, the slight downturn of her mouth, and the way she fidgets with her napkin.

“You hate it.”

Her eyes widen slightly before her brows draw down. “I do not.”

“Yeah, you do.”

She huffs like I couldn’t be more wrong, which only convinces me that I’m right.

“What’s the problem?” I ask.

She opens her mouth like she’s going to answer me, then recalls we don’t talk about stuff like this anymore. “What I do with my life and my choices is none of your business, remember?”

“I do.” The reminder of our conversation in the stable hurts like hell, and I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. I set down my burger and push the plate away.

“And what about you?” She picks through her fries like my answer doesn’t concern her one way or another. “Where have you been this past year?”

“I spent the summer at a ranch in Texas,” I tell her. “Moved around every few weeks after that. I was restless, I guess. Didn’t want to stay in the same place for too long.”

Her smile is full of memories and regret. “I get that. I miss that.”

“And I miss you,” I say before I can stop myself.

Daisy grows still, then she forces her gaze to the window.

“What?” I ask.

She shakes her head with a grimace. “Nothing.”

“You forget I know you. You want to ask me something.”

She snorts, but it’s forced. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. Go ahead and ask it.” I watch her right cheek twitch and relish the fact that even after our separation, I can read her as well as I used to. “This might be your best chance.”

She picks up a fork and plays with the salad, pushing a piece of tomato around the plate. I wait patiently, knowing she can never keep her opinions to herself.

She frowns at a piece of wilted lettuce. “And… dating?”

I grunt. I shouldn’t have pushed it, but I was enjoying myself and didn’t want it to end. “Isn’t that one of those things we don’t get to ask each other anymore?”

She blushes, and her blinking quickens as she slides out of the booth. “I have to go.”

I stop her with a hand wrapped around her wrist. “Do you really want to know?”

Daisy stiffens, then nods like she wishes she could stop herself.

“I haven’t so much as looked at another woman,” I tell her. “Not since you.”

Her head whips around, and I meet her scrutiny easily, knowing that every word is the truth. We remain locked in a silent struggle, not knowing what to say next, until Ollie barrels over.

“This is my song!” he says as a modern country tune plays from the jukebox. When he doesn’t get a response from either of us, he begins to bounce on his toes. “Can you hear it? Do you like it?”

“Yep, and it’s one of my favorites too.” Daisy pulls her arm from my grip and offers Ollie a high-five. He slaps her hand with a satisfying smack, and she adds, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay, cowboy?”

Ollie’s smile melts. “Are you leaving already?”

“Yep. You know how important it is to go to bed early when you’re up at sunrise, right?”

He sighs. “I suppose so.”

“Good man.” Daisy hesitates, her focus coasting past me before catching again. “Thanks for dinner.”

I nod politely. “You’re welcome.”

She disappears through the door while Ollie asks for a hot fudge sundae, and I wave over the server to let her know we’re ready for dessert.

When it arrives, Ollie eats with the kind of gusto he didn’t have for the mac and cheese, and when he offers me a spoonful, I barely taste the vanilla ice cream or chocolate sauce. I’m distracted by thoughts of Daisy and what she thinks of my confession.

There haven’t been other women since her, and there never will be. When I asked her to marry me, I meant it. And she might not have said yes, but it doesn’t change how I feel. I’ll spend the rest of my life loving Daisy Davenport, whether she wants me to or not.

eighteen

Daisy

(Then)

“I don’t think I want to leave here,” I say as we drive the fence line on this ranch in Wyoming. “It’s so pretty.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Something in Beau’s tone makes me turn my head. He isn’t looking at the jagged blue mountains tinted gold in the late afternoon sun. He’s looking at me.

“Stop it,” I chide.

“Stop what?”

“Stop looking at me. We’re admiring the view.”

A slow grin pulls at his mouth. He’s let himself get scruffy this week, and I love it. “Darlin’, I’m always admiring you.”

Heat blooms beneath my skin, and I roll my eyes even as I smile and return to the picture out of my window. Wyoming in July is practically perfect. Grassland and sagebrush. Silver-green creeks and endless blue skies. Horses and hills and afternoon thunderstorms.

“Would you really do it?” Beau asks.

“Do what?”

“Stay.”

My smile fades when I notice the grip he has on the steering wheel, one thumb tapping with a nervous drum.

“If I found a way,” he says. “If I could make it work, would you really want to stay?”

I force a laugh. “I don’t know. Probably not.”

“You don’t sound too sure about that.”

“Well, I am.” I fold my arms and stare out my window. “I like our life.”

“You like moving every few months?” he asks. “Packing up and starting over again every time we get comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Never staying anywhere long enough to build something?”

“Uh… that’s kind of the point?”

“Never seeing your family?”

My pulse spikes, and I try to regulate with deep, even breaths. “What brought this on?”

He’s quiet for long enough that I turn to face him and find his eyes trained on the dirt road stretching ahead of us. “I’ve just been thinking about it, is all.”

I return to my study of the terrain as it grows more familiar the closer we get to our lodgings. Beau has asked about my family and California more times these last three months than he did the whole year before. Ever since Banff, and the bracelet, and the promises we made under the stars. That night changed something between us, in a wonderful way, but I wish it hadn’t led to more questions about my life before we met. That life was defined by loss and confusion. This life is defined by possibility and hope, and I want to keep it that way.

“Come on, Darlin’. Talk to me. Why do you want to leave?” He frowns at the road and flexes his fingers on the wheel. “I know why I’ve kept moving. Because I never had any reason to stay put.”

“And now?”

His jaw tightens. “Now I do.”

My stomach twists, and I press a hand to my middle. “Beau—”

“I’m serious.” He spears me with a quick look. “Don’t you ever think about it?”

“Think about what?”

“Making a home with me. Committing to something permanent. Something real.”

A fist wraps around my throat. “This is real.”

“Is it?”

His voice is calm, but his manner is strained, and as we approach our cabin, he pulls over with a swing that kicks up a cloud of dust. He cuts the engine, and the silence is too loud.

Beau turns to face me. “Do you really think we can exist like this forever?”

“Yes.”

I answer too fast, and the look he gives me is skeptical. And disappointed. “You don’t believe that.”

“Yes, I do.” I narrow my eyes, challenging his look with one of my own. “And you used to believe it too. What’s gotten into you?”

“You.”

His answer is soft and vulnerable, and I’m stunned to stillness. He waits for a beat, then gets out of the truck and slams the door behind him. By the time I follow, I need to lengthen my stride to catch up, but he’s still through the door of our cabin before I reach him.

He spins the moment I cross the threshold.

“I had nothing before I met you.” His eyes search mine. “Not a single thing, but now we have each other, I can’t stop thinking about all the ways we could have more.”

I shake my head. “We agreed—”

“I know what we agreed!” He throws his hands up, then tosses his hat onto our unmade bed. His hair is damp and matted, the way I adore. “No stopping. No getting stuck. No wasting time chasing things that don’t matter. But why do we have to be so rigid? Why can’t we travel and build a home that belongs to us?”

“Because we can’t!” I don’t mean to shout, but my voice climbs anyway. “That’s not how it works!”

His expression is a heartbreaking mix of hurt and dashed hope. “Why not?”

“Because the moment we settle down, everything changes.”

His throat bobs, and he takes a step closer. “Maybe that’d be a good thing.”

“Not for me.”

He stops his advance. “Why not?”

Because I’m finally happy and want to stay that way. Because home is where the ghosts are, and going back means no more pretending to be okay.

“I don’t know,” I mutter.

He sighs. “We’ve got time before our gig in Argentina. I was thinking we could go to California.”

Blood turns to ice in my veins. “What?”

“We don’t have to stay long, but Darlin’… I’m asking you to let me into that part of your life.”

I’m floating. I’m floating away and I can’t feel my body, but miraculously, my mouth still works. “Why?”

Beau closes the distance and takes my hands in his. “Because I want to marry you.”

Emotion rises and burns my throat. “Are you serious?”

“Never been more serious in my life.” He brushes his thumbs along the backs of my hands, and when I look at my fingers wrapped in his, I’m not sure which of us is trembling. “I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. I want to meet your brothers and sister and tell them you’re safe with me. That I’ll take care of you. That I’d burn down the whole damn world for you if I had to.”

I turn my head and blink back tears.

“Daisy?” Beau’s voice hitches, and he falls to one knee. “Will you marry me?”

I swallow hard and close my eyes tight. “They don’t know about you.”

His silence is filled with hurt. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I haven’t told my family about us.”

He gets to his feet and turns my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes, which gives me a front-row seat as understanding dawns, followed by a raw kind of pain.

“I told Poppy,” I say quickly. “But—”

“You told Poppy,” he repeats slowly.

He takes a long step back, and I wrap my arms around myself. “I was going to tell them soon, but…”

“But… what?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Is it?” His brow furrows. “What’s so complicated about telling your family that you love me?”

I flinch, but there’s no answer I can give that will erase this hurt. No answer I’m ready to give anyway.

“Are you…” He clears his throat and crosses his thick arms. “Are you ashamed of me?”

“What?” I reach out to him, but he dodges my hand. “No. Of course not.”

He nods like he might not believe me, his eyes pinched at the corners.

“Well, then. It’s easily fixed.” He pulls his phone from his back pocket and offers it to me. His tone is pleading. “Call them.”

I glance at the phone. “Don’t do this.”

“Daisy,” he says, and the way he uses my real name makes my heart lurch. “I love you. I love you so much that I want to spend forever with you. You’re everything to me.”

Tears sting my eyes. “You’re everything to me too.”

He proffers the phone again. “So call them, then tell me you’ll marry me.”

“Stop it.” I shake my head and pace away. “You’re pressuring me. This isn’t the kind of conversation I can have over the phone in five minutes. I need to think.”

I’ve ignored his proposal again, and the energy shifts at what that might mean.

“You’re right.” Beau tucks his phone away again, and his voice is flat enough to make my heart skip. “This is the kind of conversation a person has over and over again, little by little, day by day, because that’s how it works when you love someone the way you love me, right?”

Guilt and shame wind through me, but a spark of self-preservation remains. “Yes, I love you, but I need to think! Can you stop for a second and let me think?”

I watch as something inside him breaks. “I’ve never had to think about you, Darlin’. I knew I loved you the moment I saw you, and I know I’ll keep on loving you forever.”

My heart splinters. “I love you too. It’s just—”

“I know. It’s complicated. And if you need time to think, then what can I do?”

He peels off his shirt and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. As the water runs, I sink down onto the bed, numb to the point of agony. Everything hurts. My heart. My head. My conscience. How do I explain that what we have is so perfect, my love for this man so complete, that I don’t want to risk it by taking it to a place that causes me so much pain?

Our evening passes in uncomfortable silence, with so much to say and neither of us knowing where to begin. I still curl against him in bed that night, and he holds me like he always does. By the time I drift to sleep, I’ve decided that when morning comes, I’ll explain why I’m scared to take him to Silver Leaf. I’ll call my sister and my brothers. And then I’ll say yes, I will marry him.

Beau’s arms give me the strength to believe that everything will be okay.

When I wake, the bed is empty, and there’s a note resting on his pillow.

Find someone you love so enormously you can’t wait to take him home—someone who can give you whatever it is I can’t. I’ll love you forever, Darlin’, but after last night, I no longer believe I’m enough. –Beau

I stare at his note long after I’m supposed to be at work. I cry and scream and throw things until I’m a dried-up husk of simmering rage and regret. I balance my daisy bracelet between my fingers and search for the strength to leave it behind, but I can’t find it.

The reminder of us is tucked into a corner of my suitcase when I leave that ranch in Wyoming, board a flight to San Francisco, and take myself home.

nineteen

Daisy

Poppy gasps, then wraps her hand around my calf and squeezes. “He said what?”

We’re curled up together on the sofa in the main house, which by some miracle is empty but for us, and we’re playing catch-up. I love that she’s married to my brother, but things are different now. We don’t live in each other’s pockets the way we used to.

I pry off her grip, but the achy imprint of her fingertips remains, throbbing in time with the fatigued pulse behind my eyes.

“Ow,” I say, rubbing the muscle. “That’s going to leave a bruise.”

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. “But did he really say that?”

“He hasn’t so much as looked at another woman since me,” I confirm.

“Oh, my God, Daze.” Poppy collapses into the cushions, looking a dreamy kind of stunned. Like this is romantic or something. “What are you going to do with that?”

“Uh, nothing?”

She screws up her face. “Nothing?”

“It doesn’t change anything,” I insist. Poppy tries to argue, but I cut her off before she gains steam. “It’s no different than my man ban. Just because Beau hasn’t been with another woman since we broke up doesn’t mean he won’t be eventually.”

It’s the story I’ve been telling myself, but the words taste as bitter on my tongue as they sound in my head. I clear my throat, wishing I had something to wash them down.

“So, how has work been since he said that?”

“I’ve been busy,” I say. “Ryan and Marcus have picked up my slack in the stable so I can focus on paperwork at home.”

“Daisy.” Poppy tilts her head. “Come on.”

“What? It’s all within budget. Charlie won’t say anything.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she says. “You’re hiding from Beau.”

I scoff. “It’s just a coincidence.”

She keeps staring at me.

“Okay, fine. It’s a helpful coincidence.”

My bestie grins, but her mouth flattens into worry within seconds. “It’s not like you to avoid uncomfortable conversations.”

“This isn’t an uncomfortable conversation,” I say. “It’s an uncomfortable existence.”

“Not for much longer,” Poppy points out. “He’ll be gone in a month.”

I rub my eyes with a sigh. “Yeah. I know.”

“And… is that still a good thing?”

“I’m beginning to think none of this is a good thing.”

“Oh, Daze.” Poppy sets a hand on my leg again, this time with a soothing stroke of her palm. “Why not?”

“Because the more time we spend together, the less certain I am of anything. What happened between us. How I feel about it now. Why I did what I did.”

Poppy’s forehead wrinkles. “What you did?”

Tension builds in my neck and shoulders, and my thoughts start to fog up. “Maybe our breakup was more my fault than I realized.”

She pulls back slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Everything.” I sigh. “I don’t know.”

My best friend pauses, chewing her bottom lip. “Daze?”

“Hmm?”

“Is your plan working? Because you seem more twisted up now than you were when he got here.”

I groan and drop my head back against the sofa cushions. The shift pushes the pain in my neck up to the base of my skull. “I know.”

Poppy stretches over again and sets her hand on my forehead. “Are you okay?”

“My period is due,” I mutter. “I’m just tired.”

“Do you want to nap on the sofa?”

I check the time on my phone. “I don’t think so. I’ll be fine with some pain relief, and I’ve got a ton to get through before my trail rides this afternoon. I’ll head back to my place.”

“Would you like me to drive you?” Poppy frowns. “You look a little peaked.”

“Nothing a little sunshine won’t fix,” I say. “And besides, I rode Chardonneigh, and I need to get her back to the stable. But thank you.”

I take it easy on the ride home, but every jolt of Chardonneigh’s gait rattles through my body. By the time I reach the stable, the ache in my neck and shoulders has reached my jaw. The noon sun hits my eyes like knives, and I approach home squinting against the glare.

I dismount as Marcus appears to take my reins, but before I can hand them over, Beau strides over and sends Marcus away with a sharp jerk of his head.

“Are you all right?” Beau asks.

“Perfect,” I lie. “Could you untack her? I’ve got work inside, but I’ll be back for the trail rides at four.”

I barely hear his agreement as I hurry to my front door. Once inside, I make it to the bathroom just in time to fall to the tiles in front of the toilet and bring up my breakfast.

It’s been months since I had a migraine. I’m an expert at getting in front of them with water, rest, and pain relief, but this one snuck up on me. It’ll last a few hours at least, but if I can find somewhere dark to rest, I might be human enough to take my rides later.

There’s only one problem. The barn house is seventy percent glass, and I still don’t have curtains on the windows.

I press my cheek against the cool bathroom floor. It feels so good that I consider turning off the light and staying put. But I know I’ll regret it if I don’t get to my bedroom soon, so I remove my boots with some effort, then push myself to my feet.

The pain lunges, lancing my left eye and setting my stomach rolling. With my eyes squinted so hard I may as well be walking with them closed, I feel my way to the kitchen, pour myself a glass of water, and down two painkillers. The agony intensifies after the short walk, so I drop to the floor and crawl to the living room sofa.

I curl into a ball, press my face against the cushions, wrap my arms around my head, and pray for sleep to take me.

Strong arms slide beneath me, then cradle me against a solid chest. I moan, the sound setting off painful spasms in my jaw and temples.

“Shh,” Beau murmurs. “I’ve got you, Darlin’.”

“What’s the matter with her?” Ollie asks, the question reaching me through a tunnel of pain.

“She’s got a headache,” Beau whispers, and even that is too loud. “Everything’s going to be fine. Can you draw something while I take her to her room?”

“Okay,” Ollie agrees.

“Leave me alone,” I manage, clutching at him when the pain flares again.

Beau shushes me and holds me closer, bracing against the jolts of his body as he carries me up the hallway. The rhythm of his steps tells me we’ve entered my bedroom, only it can’t be; the light has suddenly disappeared. But then he eases me onto my bed.

I roll away and bury my face in the pillows. “Go away. I hate you.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t need your help.” I groan and then squirm as pain crashes over me.

“Darlin’? You can’t sleep in jeans. Let me take them off. Please?”

The thought is too divine, so I give him the smallest nod. I sigh as he drags off my socks, then releases the button at my waist and peels off the denim. I breathe easier with them gone and the hard square of my phone no longer pressed against my butt.

“Are you wearing a bra?” he whispers.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Can I take that off too?”

I hum, then turn so he can unbutton my flannel shirt. His hands are soft as he slips it off my arms and around my back. He pulls the covers higher before unfastening my bra. I keep my eyes closed, and my thoughts are sluggish, but it’s a relief to be free of my clothes, even knowing it’s Beau’s hands on my body. I feel vulnerable and protected at the same time.

I press my face against the pillow, relishing the cool touch of it before the cotton warms. But then the mattress dips and a cool washcloth settles over my eyes. I gasp at how good it feels, then again as Beau slips his large, strong hand into my hair.

He applies one hand to my temples while kneading my neck and shoulders with the other, then gently pulls on my hair to release the pressure in my scalp. Gratitude and relief leak from my eyes as he pushes and drags in slow, certain movements, perfected over months of nursing me through this very same hell.

“Have you taken pain medication?” he asks.

“Mmm. Not working.”

“Okay.” He stops massaging long enough to readjust the washcloth, turning it so the cool spots are against my skin, then starts on my temples again. “I want you to sleep, okay, Darlin’?”

“Can’t.” I gasp as pain surges and my stomach pitches. “Rides.”

“I got it,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

I don’t realize I’m trembling until Beau tucks the covers up under my chin. Then he shifts a little, just the one hand staying on my head.

“Is this Poppy?” he asks, and it takes me a second to understand he’s not talking to me. “Hello. This is Beau.”

Pain and brain fog make it hard to follow the half conversation, but I do my best.

“Daisy isn’t feeling well, and I need to take her trail rides this afternoon. I was wondering if you’re available to take Ollie for a few hours. He won’t be any trouble, and I know he’d love to spend time with Izzy.” A pause, then a relieved sigh. “Thank you… No, that’s all right. I’ll bring him around to the house myself… That’s right. I’ll take the rides and come back when I’m done. Ollie might be with you for dinner… Well, I appreciate that. Thank you.”

Beau returns my phone to the nightstand and gets to his feet, the mattress lifting as his weight disappears, then sagging again when he returns. He swaps the washcloth on my forehead for one freshly dipped in cold water.

“Sleep, Daisy Darlin’,” he murmurs. “You’ll feel better soon.”

“Stop being nice to me,” I mumble, already halfway to unconsciousness.

He gently brushes the hair off my face. “Never.”

The oily, salty scent of hot fries wakes me, and I roll onto my back, feeling groggy and disoriented. I open my eyes, then frown at the ceiling. It’s too dark. Even in the middle of the night, my bedroom glows. I sit up on my elbows, and after puzzling at the blankets strung up at the windows, I see where the smell of deep-fried potato comes from. There’s a plate of fries on my nightstand, plus a large Coke right beside them.

“What time is it?” I wonder aloud.

“Just past eight.”

I startle at Beau’s voice, then sink into the mattress and let my eyes close again. The hours after a migraine are like the worst kind of hangover. The headache lingers, my stomach is a long way from settled, and my thoughts are thick. I feel utterly wiped out.

“What are you doing here?” I ask a moment before I process what he said and try to sit up. “It’s eight o’clock? What about my clients?”

“I took them.” Beau steps out from the shadows. “The horses are bedded down. Everyone’s gone home.”

I sigh. “That’s not your job.”

“My job is to support you and this business, so yeah, it is.”

He crosses the room, and without asking, he rearranges my pillows, propping me up into a sitting position and covering my nakedness with the sheet. He sits on the edge of the bed and hands me the plate of fries. I choose the crispiest one and pop it into my mouth, then chase it with a long draw of soda and feel a little more tension release.

My mom used to give me fries and a Coke when I was a teenager and migraines were my most predictable premenstrual symptom. I don’t know if she was right about the combination of salt, sugar, and caffeine being a cure for the pain, or if it’s the comfort of her home remedy that makes me feel better, but I swear by them even now.

Beau scans my face, and I try not to squirm under the scrutiny.

“So you’re still getting migraines?” he asks.

I shift under the covers, tucking them securely under my arms. “Occasionally.”

“Are you drinking enough water? Taking magnesium?”

I glance at him once and take another fry. “Probably not, and not for a while.”

His brows draw together. “And you’re stressed.”

I lift one shoulder. “No more than usual,” I lie.

He scoffs quietly and shakes his head. “So freaking stubborn.”

I scowl, which only makes him smirk. “So freaking arrogant,” I retort.

The twitch of his mouth turns into a grin. He moves closer somehow, setting a hand on the other side of my stretched-out legs, leaning over my body and into the center of the mattress. I unconsciously turn toward him, pressing my legs against his side and snuggling deeper into the pillows, seeking his warmth and comfort. More tightness leaches from my muscles, but when I realize what’s happening, I stiffen and give him a glare.

“You can’t do things like this anymore,” I tell him.

He blinks and his smile fades. “Do what?”

“Take care of me like you used to.”

“You were in pain. What was I supposed to do?”

“Leave me to figure it out. I’ve managed by myself plenty of times.”

He straightens too, and I tamp down a spark of guilt at the hurt on his face.

“I found you curled up in a ball on the sofa, sunlight everywhere, moaning and rocking.” His jaw clenches against a flinch. “Crying. And you expect me to walk away?”

“You’ve done it before.”

His eyes grow hard, then distant, and shame drops into the pit of my stomach.

“I need to pick up Ollie and get him home.” Beau stands and swipes up his hat from the foot of my bed. The place where he sat feels disproportionately empty. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I curl away as he leaves the room, fries on the duvet next to me. I nibble a couple more, but all I really want is darkness. Closing my eyes, I ignore the faint, retreating pulse of my headache, which pales next to the rising despair in my chest.

My plan to get over Beau was stupid. It was supposed to make it obvious we’re better off without each other. Instead, it’s only proved how much I’ve missed him. How much I still love him. And I’m starting to think the reason we aren’t together has less to do with Beau’s irresponsibility and fears and everything to do with what’s broken inside me.

twenty

Daisy

It’s surprisingly easy to avoid life for the next couple of days. I hide in my house, living off popcorn, dark chocolate, and misery, and text instructions for the stable to Ryan and Marcus with requests to relay anything important to Beau. I still take my trail rides, but when I do, I give all my energy to the horses and the guests, the scenery and the perfect late summer weather—literally anything and anyone but him.

I’m more confused now than I was when he got here. And a lot angrier too. Problem is, I can’t work out who I’m mad at—Beau or myself.

But three days later, after seventy-two hours of emotional gymnastics to keep me from completely losing my shit, I’ve got something to take my mind off things. Finally. I head home after my afternoon ride for a shower and change of clothes, then blow-dry my hair and set the curls just right. I’m coating my lips with a slick of strawberry gloss when my phone buzzes on the bathroom counter.

Charlie:

I can’t make it! Too much work to get through. Give my apologies to Emmett.

Three seconds later, the doorbell rings, and I give myself a final once-over in the mirror. It’s been a while since I dressed up for a night out, but I’m pleased with the results. I’m in a denim mini, a spaghetti-strap tank, and my favorite red cowboy boots. My hair hangs loose to my waist, my cheeks are pink from a little rouge and the heat of the hairdryer, and my lashes look extra-long, thanks to the double swipe of mascara. I twist and turn, admiring the picture of a woman who has her life together. And although it’s not an accurate reflection of the mess I am inside, I’m grateful for a reason to pretend I’m my old self again.

Emmett rings the bell again, then follows it with a drumming knock. I snatch up my purse and hurry to the front door, but when I open it, his smile falters and his eyes grow wide.

“You look…” He drags a hand over his mouth. “Wow.”

I laugh, gratified at his reaction, and crowd him out onto the porch, shutting the door behind me. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No. Seriously.” He raises his arms and looks down at his clothes. “I feel underdressed. If I’d known this was a real date, I would’ve at least worn cologne.”

He’s in jeans, boots, and a snug khaki Henley. Dark-framed glasses. Dark hair slightly messy, like he runs his hands through it a dozen times a day. Hot nerd, indeed.

“Stop it.” I shove him gently. “I’ve had a rough few days. I need to raise my spirits, and I can’t remember the last time I had a reason to put on lipstick.”

His expression softens as we cross the yard to where his truck is parked at the end of the drive. “What’s going on?”

“I’m going to need a drink before we get into it.”

“Ah,” he says knowingly.

We reach the truck, and he opens the passenger door for me, but before I climb in, movement across the way catches my eye. It’s Beau brushing down Marelot with easy, competent strokes, but he stills when he notices me.

Even from this distance, I can feel the tension in him. The rigid set of his shoulders. The hard line of his jaw. His fist tightening around the brush.

For one painful moment, I almost go to him. I’m so tired of this. I’m tired of pretending that we weren’t once wildly in love. That there isn’t this important, unfinished history between us. I’m tired of pretending we don’t know each other or that we do, and it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. We don’t matter.

I need answers. I need closure. I need something.

“Daze?”

I blink and drag my attention back to Emmett.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.” My voice is thinner than I intended. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

But as I climb into the cab and Emmett closes the door, Beau is still watching me. And I feel the weight of his gaze all the way down to my bones.

I cackle so hard, I accidentally snort, which only makes Emmett laugh harder.

“And here I was thinking you’d grown up,” he wheezes, trying to catch his breath.

“I have grown up,” I protest through laughter.

“Maybe, but you’ve still got buffalo sauce all over your face.”

My eyes widen with horror. “I do not!” I screech. “Do I? Where is it?”

He loses it completely as I swipe at my cheeks.

He points vaguely. “Over there.”

I snatch up a napkin and wipe harder. “Did I get it?”

“No. Higher.”

“Emmett!”

He breaks into another peal of laughter. “Your face is clean, Daze, but you do have ‘gullible’ written across your forehead.”

“You rat.” I ball up the napkin and toss it at his head. It glances off his shoulder and falls to the floor.

“I forgot how easy it is to tease you.” He wipes tears from his eyes. “You’re as bad as Piper and Josie.”

“Why are all big brothers the worst?”

He snickers. “It’s one of the perks of being born first—or second, in my case.”

I grin into my white wine sangria and take another sip.

The Slippery Tipple is packed tonight, music humming through the crowded bar while people dance with drinks held high or queue at the jukebox. The place smells like stale beer and fried food, which I love. From behind the bar, Poppy’s mom Mona throws me a maternal wink, and I raise my glass in reply. Her sangria is the best. It tastes like fruit juice and poor decisions. I’ve already had three glasses.

Emmett leans back against the booth with a long exhale. “I needed this.”

I lift the sangria jug. “A cocktail?”

“No.” He smiles faintly. “Something to laugh about.”

I study him more carefully. “Life not treating you well?”

His mouth twists. “Brooke and I are… taking some time apart.”

“Oh.” That sobers me a little. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

He stares down at his soda glass, turning it slowly between his palms. “Honestly? I think we just stopped wanting the same things.”

“But you’ve been together forever.”

He huffs out a sad laugh. “Turns out, forever isn’t as long as I thought it was going to be.”

The sadness in his voice upsets me. “Is it that bad?”

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “She misses San Francisco,” he explains. “We spent ten years there while I did my undergrad, then veterinary school, and then two years at an inner-city clinic after that. The plan was always to move back to Kismet and start a family, and Brooke has tried to find her feet again, but she’s outgrown our hometown. And me, apparently.”

“You still love her,” I murmur, reading the pain on his face.

He looks at me quickly, then away again. “Doesn’t really matter if she doesn’t love me enough to stay.”

I swirl the fruit in my glass of sangria, watching the liquid slosh. “Sometimes love just isn’t enough.”

The thought slips out before I realize it, and Emmett quirks an eyebrow.

“Does this have anything to do with your stable hand?”

I choke slightly. “What?”

Emmett’s mouth tips up in a crooked smile. “It’s pretty obvious there’s something going on there.”

“We have… history.”

I sink into the booth, nursing my cocktail, sipping and staring across the table at this guy who thinks he knows me so well. Sipping and staring and thinking.

“You’re a guy,” I announce suddenly.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Last time I checked.”

“So explain something to me.”

“Why does this feel like a trap?”

I take another mouthful of my cocktail, watching him over the rim of my glass and relishing the out-of-body knowledge that every time I drink a little more, my lips—and my self-control—get looser.

“Why would a man tell a woman he loves her enough to marry her,” I ask with an accusing wave of my glass, “and then disappear in the middle of the night?”

Emmett goes still. “He did that?”

“Yep.” The p leaves my lips with a satisfying pop. “Like a hot, emotionally constipated Houdini.”

Emmett chuckles despite himself before his expression folds into a frown.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to one of your brothers about this?” he asks.

“Absolutely not.” I shake my head. “They already know too much. If they had the full story, I’d have to bail them out of jail.”

“Fair point.”

I pick up my glass again, but I don’t drink. “I need to understand it because nothing makes sense anymore.”

“All right. But I’m going to need a little more information.”

So I tell him everything. It rushes out of me, all the stories and feelings I’ve bottled up for too long. How Beau and I met. How we worked and traveled together for close to a year and a half. How we planned to spend forever like that—moving and living and loving on the road. How Beau changed and wanted more. How he ran from his family, but asked to meet mine. How he wanted to put down roots. Build a home. Have a family. How I never wanted to do any of that.

“So when he proposed,” Emmett says slowly, “it felt like he changed the rules?”

“Yeah. Kind of.”

“And when you hesitated, maybe he felt rejected?”

“I didn’t say no.”

“No,” he agrees gently. “But you didn’t say yes.”

When I don’t reply, Emmett sets his elbows on the table and leans in. “Daze. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my situation with Brooke, it’s that our biology and body parts don’t matter. We all love the same. We all hurt the same. We all get confused and we all want answers. Beau wanted to make you his wife, which tells me he’s not only got good sense but that he loves you. Knowing him the way you do… do you believe he set out to hurt you?”

“No. That’s what makes this so hard. Why would he do this?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

I scoff inelegantly. “Sure. It’s that easy.”

“You’re scared,” Emmett guesses.

“Of course I’m scared!”

“Why?”

“Because there’s no good reason to run out on the woman you love.”

“Or,” Emmett suggests, “maybe you’re scared because his explanation could make sense. If it does, you won’t know how to stay angry at him anymore, and where will that leave you?”

I wash away the lump in my throat with a deep swallow of sangria. “It’ll leave me loving a man who might not want a future with me anymore.”

“Isn’t it better to know that for sure if it means you can move on with your life?”

I take another sip of my drink and let Emmett’s advice soak in. I do want answers only Beau can give, and tonight, with all this gin and brandy on board, feels like the best time to go get them.

twenty-one

Beau

I creep out of Ollie’s bedroom and quietly close the door. These days, after long hours working with the horses, he’s asleep before his head hits the pillow. It’s not like he resisted bedtime before that, but in the early days of the guardianship, I’d check on him half an hour after bedtime and find him staring at the ceiling. That doesn’t happen anymore.

I still haven’t told him about the job at Kismet Creek. I’m too afraid of what it’ll do to him. And when I think about what my being here has done to Daisy, how she can’t bear to have me touch her when she’s sick and needs me, I can’t believe how badly I’ve messed this up.

I’m fresh out of the shower, hair wet and wearing nothing but boxer shorts, when someone pounds on the cabin’s front door. Not wanting it to wake Ollie, I rush to tell whoever it is to calm the fuck down. I yank on the door—and freeze.

Daisy stands under the buttery porch light, wearing the tiny skirt and skimpy tank she had on when she got in the car with the vet. Her butterscotch hair is a little wild, her makeup is a little smudged, and her cheeks are flushed pink. Her focus softens and sharpens as she sweeps her gaze down my half-naked body. When her gaze catches on the daisies tattooed over my ribs, she blinks like that will erase them from her sight if not my skin.

“You’ve been drinking,” I say.

She scowls. “Why did you do it?”

She could be referring to one of a million things, but she’s not. I can see it in her face.

I glance into the darkness. “I thought you were out with the vet. How did you get here?”

“Emmett dropped me home, and then I walked.”

“You walked?” I glance at her heeled boots, then linger over her smooth calves. “In the dark? In those shoes?”

“It’s not far,” she argues.

“But you’re drunk.”

“No. I’m angry. And I want to know why.”

I exhale slowly. “Daisy—”

“Why did you leave me?”

Jesus. Pain twists beneath my ribs, and I flex my jaw. “Don’t do this.”

She steps closer and pokes me hard in the chest. “Why not? Because it makes you uncomfortable? Because it makes you feel bad? Because I’m forcing you to own your shit? Well, tough. I don’t care if you don’t want to do this. I do.”

I catch her wrist before she jabs me again. “Tomorrow. When you’re sober.”

“No.” Her narrowed hazel eyes are clearer than I gave her credit for as she yanks her hand free. “Now.”

We glare at each other. God, she’s magnificent. Beautiful. Brave. Full of fire. The kind of strength I never want to extinguish.

I move out onto the porch and close the door, not wanting to wake Ollie, then square up with my arms folded. “Fine. Ask me again.”

Daisy’s throat works as she draws herself up. “Why did you leave without telling me?”

I blink at the hurt in her eyes, but the rage rising up in my chest threatens to crush me unless I get it out. I never thought I’d do this. Never wanted to do it. And now I can’t stop myself.

“Why didn’t you want to marry me?”

She recoils. “I never said I didn’t—”

“No.” I cut her off before she tries to save my feelings with a lie. “You’re right. You said you had to think about it.”

“Because it was sudden.”

“Not for me,” I say. “Why didn’t you tell your family about me?”

She blinks, mouth open, and takes another step back. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“It’s got everything to do with it.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“It was always about you.”

She looks as if she regrets ever asking for answers, but she’s started something that I want to finish.

“So?” I push. “Why was I—why were we—a secret?”

“I changed my mind.” She wraps her arms around herself and instantly looks smaller. “I don’t want to do this after all.”

“We have to,” I say. “How am I supposed to work like usual when this conversation is unfinished?”

Her head jerks up, her arms fall to her sides, and her eyes grow hot.

“It’s been unfinished for a year!” she shouts. “It’s been unfinished since the morning I woke up and found you gone. It’s been unfinished since you refused to answer my calls or my texts or let me know where you were and what went wrong.”

“I was doing what was best for you!” I yell as the pain lances fresh. “I’m not good enough for you. You know it. I know it. I was the only one of us strong enough to admit it.”

She looks shocked, then enraged. “How can you say that? How can you believe it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Daisy.” I push my hands through my hair, trying to remain cool as I unload a year’s worth of pain and regret. “Maybe when a man finds out the woman he loves hasn’t breathed a word of his existence to the most important people in her life, he gets the hint. Maybe when he gets down on one knee and asks her to spend her life with him, and she panics, he realizes he loves her a lot more than she loves him. Maybe—just maybe—a man doesn’t need to be told a third time that the best thing he can do for a woman like you is let her go.”

Her breaths come fast, her chest rapidly rising and falling. “I didn’t want you to let me go. I wanted you to wait.”

“Wait for what?” I throw up my hands. “This is me, Darlin’. There are no tricks up these sleeves. No money stashed away. No magical answers to the truckload of problems I bring to this relationship. You know everything there is to know about me. I gave you everything I had, and it wasn’t enough.”

She paces away, then back again, brow furrowed over flashing eyes. “So my family didn’t know about you. So what? I was going to tell them when I was ready and the time was right.”

“You’re telling me the time was never right in the year and a half we were together?”

Her eyes burn, but she says nothing, and I shake my head.

“You’ve got no idea how good you’ve got it, do you? How lucky you are to have your family. A home. Money. You’re so fucking privileged, and you can’t even acknowledge it. But deep down, you knew. You knew I wasn’t good enough for this life or for them. That’s why you never told your family about me, and it’s why we can never have a life together. There are too many differences between us.”

“How can you say that?” Tears well in her eyes. “That’s not why— I can’t believe—” She gasps for air. “I can’t believe you’d think that way about me. Was the time we spent together nothing to you? All the promises we made?”

“The promises we made to keep running?” I snap. “To never stand still? To never build a life together? In the end, only you wanted those things. I wanted more! I wanted something real.”

“What we had was real!”

“I wanted to make a home with you. I wanted to have children with you. I wanted the whole world to know you’re mine, and you wanted to keep me a secret.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Do you?” I retort. “I’d fucking die for you! Why the hell would I leave the woman I love unless I believed she couldn’t possibly love me back?”

“I loved you more!” she screams. “I loved you more than I ever wanted to love any man. I loved you so much it aches where that love used to be. It hurts to think of you. It hurts to breathe! And I hate you for it! I hate you for making me love you, only for you to leave. Why did you leave me? Why?”

She pummels my chest, fists falling with grunts and tears. At first, I let her, because I deserve it and expect her to give up after a couple of hard blows. But she keeps drumming, losing control, and I grab her wrists.

“What do you want from me?” I grind out, yanking her closer so she can’t get a swing between us. “I already offered you everything I had. Everything I will ever have. And you turned it down. What the hell do you want me to do?”

Her breath catches, her pulse flickers in her throat, and her hazel eyes grow wide. I lean in, nose to nose, feeling the press of her breasts against my chest, the warmth of her skin, the thrum of blood in her wrist beneath my fingers. The tension pulls tight, then tighter, tying us together. A rope that was always there, twisting around the edges of the promises laying sharp and broken between us. Her lips part, and my heart races.

She squirms, and I just hold tighter.

“I hate you!” she spits. “I hate you so fucking much. I hate you, Beau. You ruined everything. I hate you!”

She works herself up, trying to get free, but I’m afraid she might hurt herself if I release her now. I can’t let her go again. I can’t. I can’t.

“Daisy!” I snap. “Stop fighting me. Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

She tosses her head, tears falling as she throws her body against mine. My blood pounds as I loop an arm around her waist, anchoring her against me, giving her less room to swing.

“Daisy! For fuck’s sake. Stop it.”

“Make me!”

And then, somehow… my mouth is on hers.

I don’t know who starts it, whose thread snaps first, but I’m kissing her, and I can’t stop. I’m desperate for the feel of her, and it’s better than I remember. Softer and sweeter and more violent. All the unfinished emotions between us bubbling to the surface. Desperation and desire. Rage and resentment. Wanting and yearning and loving and hating all at the same time.

For long minutes, our kiss is a battle, lips crushing and tongues lashing and bodies pressed together until she suddenly softens against me. Heat explodes behind my ribs, and I gather her in my arms. The kiss grows deeper. More desperate. Pulsing with desire.

I realize she’s crying when the taste of salt hits my tongue, followed by a whimper in her throat. My entire body freezes, and I pull away.

“I’m sorry, Darlin’.” I cradle her face and study her changing expressions. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just—”

“I know.”

She sets her slender hands around my wrists and her eyes drift closed. Mascara bleeds with the slow roll of more tears. Her lips are swollen and pink, and I drag a thumb across the bottom one to feel its heat.

“I’ve missed you,” I whisper, drinking in her face the way I haven’t let myself all these weeks. “I’ve missed you every single fucking day since the night I left. I’m sorry, Darlin’. I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

My heart sinks as her tears flow faster, and she pulls free from my hold. I release a disappointed breath and step away, but then she takes my hand to stop me. She brushes her fingertips over the daisies on my ribcage, and I shiver at her touch.

“Hold me?” she says. “Just for tonight. Will you hold me while I sleep?”

I slip a hand around her neck and pull her forehead to my mouth, planting a kiss there before I rest my head against hers.

“I promised you these arms a long time ago,” I murmur. “They belong to you. Always.”

With her fingers twined in mine and my heart beating with heavy pounds, I lead her into the cabin. It’s quiet, Ollie unroused by Daisy’s visit, and I take her to my bedroom.

“Do you need something to wear?” I ask.

“Yes, please.”

I tow her to the dresser, neither of us willing to let go of the other, and when I hand her my shirt, she puts it to her face and breathes deeply as her tears begin flowing again.

My throat is thick, and I wonder how many apologies I’ll make before she forgives me. If there’s any number of I’m sorrys that can undo what I’ve done. Is there any way to repair the damage she’s done to me? Neither of us meant it, but we hurt each other just the same.

“I’ll give you a moment,” I offer, and at her meek nod, I slip out of the room, grateful for the opportunity to think.

I check on Ollie, pour Daisy a glass of water, then stand at the sink, gripping the edges and wondering what the fuck I’m doing. I kissed her. I couldn’t not kiss her, but it’s going to change everything. I just wish I could predict what.

But tonight, I can be what she needs. I return to the bedroom, and my heart skips at the familiar sight of her in one of my T-shirts perched on the edge of the bed. She wordlessly accepts the glass, then takes a sip and sets it on the table beside the bed. And when she quietly slips under the covers, leaving them pulled back for me to follow, I get in and curl my body around hers. My arms hold her together, and I hope it’s enough to hold me together too.

She loops her arms around mine like she used to, threads her fingers through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and sighs as I inhale the scent of her hair so temptingly close. She doesn’t speak, and neither do I. Whatever happened tonight is beyond words, and I don’t want to ruin it by saying the wrong thing. I don’t want her to leave.

I lie there, feeling her breathing get slower and deeper as her muscles soften, until I’m certain she’s asleep. A worm of guilt takes root in my stomach, gnawing hard enough that I can’t close my eyes. I wish I wasn’t the reason Daisy just fell apart, but I am, and I’ll spend my life making it up to her.

I hold her and breathe her in, and I wonder how I’m ever supposed to walk away from her now.

twenty-two

Daisy

The bed is empty when I wake, but the sheets are still warm and the memory of Beau’s arms lingers. I roll over as the sound of Beau and Ollie making breakfast reaches me through the closed bedroom door, and I’m grateful for this moment alone. I need a minute to process what feels different this morning, aside from the fact that I’m not in my own bed.

Something inside has shifted. A knot feels looser. A weight feels lighter. It isn’t gone, but with one more push, I might be rid of it forever.

I’m staring at the ceiling, feeling my way into the new space inside my chest, when the door creaks open. Beau pokes his head in, and when he sees that I’m awake, he comes all the way in. He’s got a cup of steaming coffee, and he closes the door behind him.

“Here,” he says, offering me the cup. “I thought you might need this.”

I sit up and accept the coffee. “Thank you.”

I take a sip as Beau hovers awkwardly at the end of the bed. He’s still in his boxer shorts and no shirt. The chain of daisies across his side is obvious, though now he knows I’ve seen it, there’s no use trying to hide it. And I can’t stop looking at it.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“I’m…” A thud sounds somewhere in the cabin, followed by the screech of a chair dragged across linoleum. “Is Ollie okay?”

Beau smiles with affection. “Yeah. He’s at the table eating while drawing.”

“That’s sweet. He’s a great kid.”

“He is.” Beau runs a nervous hand through his hair. “So, listen. I want to talk. We need to talk.” He glances at me uncertainly. “Right?”

I should be nervous, but I’m not. For the first time in my life, I’m ready to say the hard things. “Yeah. We do.”

He releases a breath. “Good. The thing is…” He gestures vaguely toward the bed. “I don’t know how to explain this to Ollie.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks. “I’ll go home.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know, but you’re right.”

“I just don’t want to confuse him.”

“Beau? It’s okay. I get it.”

His shoulders relax slightly. “So I’ll take him out somewhere so you can sneak home. And then… I’ll call you?” He groans and shakes his head. “That sounds awful.”

I chuckle quietly. “I know what you mean, but, uh… I have another idea.”

“Yeah?”

“We both have the morning off, so what do you think about taking a ride with me? I’d like to show you around Silver Leaf, if you’re interested. Ollie can spend some time at the main house with Izzy, if that’s all right with you.”

Beau’s eyes light up, and the hint of a hopeful grin tugs at his mouth. “Really?”

I’m cautiously optimistic about what the morning may bring, but I don’t want to raise expectations too soon. His or mine.

“Yeah,” I say with less emotion than I feel. “Really.”

“I’d like that,” he says.

I text Poppy to ask for the favor while Beau helps Ollie get ready. Once they’re out the door, I head home to shower and dress, butterflies beating against the hollow of my stomach. My head isn’t too heavy, given the half jug of sangria I drank last night, but I take two painkillers and follow with a large glass of water, just in case. By the time I walk over to the stable, Beau has Chardonneigh and Stallion Blanc tacked up and ready to go.

I swing up into my saddle and Beau mounts beside me. With the differences in height between us and our horses, he towers over me.

“Lead the way,” he says with a tip of his hat, and I forget we’re not supposed to be so easy with each other.

“Your hair’s different,” he says as we leave the stable behind and head toward the northern trails.

“It is?” I ask, then remember the way I used to dye the ends. “Oh, yeah. I cut off the color before I came home.”

“Why?”

I shrug. “It felt like a part of me I wanted to leave behind.”

“Like me?”

I cast him a sideways glance. He doesn’t say it with any judgment. If anything, he sounds curious, and I don’t feel the need to lie anymore.

“Like us,” I reply.

He’s quiet as he falls behind me on a narrow stretch of trail lined on one side by a thick row of redwoods and on the other by a sheer bluff. I breathe deeply, soothing myself with the subtly spiced smell of the trees and the sweet, earthy fragrance of my family’s vineyards. When the path broadens again, Beau moves his horse up beside mine.

“It’s beautiful here,” he says. “Is this where you’ve been this whole year?”

“Yep.” I look out onto the familiar landscape. The purple mountains and the green hills, the blue sky that I suppose looks the same no matter where you are in the world but somehow looks prettier here. “Getting to know the place again, I guess.”

“You spent so much time resisting even the idea of coming home,” he murmurs. “I’m kind of surprised you did.”

There’s a touch of accusation in his tone now, but I earned it. For all the questions Beau left unanswered by walking out on me, I wasn’t as open as I should’ve been either.

I keep my eyes focused ahead while I gather the courage I need to explain things, letting Chardonneigh lead us along a trail we’ve ridden together a hundred times before. I use her solid, steadfast gait to keep me grounded.

“Look,” Beau says, apparently unable to stand the silence. “About last night.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I behaved badly.”

He huffs a laugh. “Maybe, but I’m not sorry you did it.” He looks at me. “One of us had to break. If it hadn’t been you last night, it would’ve been me soon.”

A reluctant chuckle escapes me. “I doubt it.”

“I don’t,” he says. “You always were my weak spot, Darlin’.”

His smile is small and unsure, and mine is equally tentative. My God, he’s my weakness too. I want so badly to pretend everything between us can be, if not solved, then partially repaired with one kiss, but there’s too much he doesn’t know.

“I need to say some things,” I tell him. “But they’re things I never let myself think about, let alone say out loud. To anyone. Ever. So I’m probably going to be awkward about it. I need you to keep that in mind, okay?”

His energy shifts, and if it were possible for Beau to be tense on the back of a horse as placid as Stallion Blanc, this might be the time.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m listening.”

I stay quiet. I don’t know what I’m waiting for until we approach a curve in the trail, and just beyond it, a rise. Sonoma Valley stretches on forever to our left, the forests and the vineyards and the fields and the river. I slow Chardonneigh to a stop and turn her toward the view. Beau does the same next to me. I needed to be here for this conversation, but I didn’t know it until we arrived.

“This was my mom’s favorite trail,” I say, looking outward as I reach inward, knowing Beau’s listening but almost saying this for myself. “We rode it all the time, and I’m not sure if it was a little lie she told me to make it seem more special, but she used to say she never rode it with anyone else. Just me.”

“It’s breathtaking,” he murmurs, looking out with me onto the valley below.

“You see, the thing is…” I inhale and push through the invisible wall that keeps me on one side and my mom on the other. “The thing is, I never told my family about you because you made me so happy. Our life made me so happy. I could hold you up to the light and there wasn’t a single blemish. But here, where my family is and used to be, there’s an unavoidable dark spot. My parents are gone, and I feel that loss here in a way I don’t when I’m out in the world. Every minute is marked by heartbreak and grief. And rage. So much rage.”

I let myself look at him. His eyes are soft, and my throat tightens.

“Every single moment I’ve ever had or will ever have at Silver Leaf will always be a little bit sad. Even the happy times. The happiest ones. I wanted to keep you all to myself for as long as I could. I wanted to keep pretending that I was okay, that I left all the pain behind me, and that as long as I never came back, I’d be able to build something that wasn’t tainted by my grief.”

I scrub at my eyes, which have welled with tears despite my best efforts.

“I wanted you to be this precious thing that never knew that version of me,” I tell him, my voice a cracking whisper. “Because if you didn’t know her, I wouldn’t have to deal with her. How could I bring you home, Beau? Where they aren’t? Where my mom isn’t? I wanted to delay that part for as long as possible.”

I clear my throat and pat Chardonneigh like she’s the one who needs soothing. “It was stupid, I know. And it was selfish. But the idea of my mother never meeting you, never knowing you, and you never hearing her laugh or watching her paint or seeing how natural she was around horses? It hurts. Knowing my dad would never shake your hand or hand you a drink or ask if you’ve seen the latest hockey scores? It hurts. You never being able to tell him that you want to marry me, and him never walking me down the aisle? It hurts.”

Beau watches me with a hard jaw and the softest, sweetest brown eyes. It breaks something open inside me, the look of someone in pain because I’m in pain. To hide how raw this feels, I sniffle and laugh wetly.

“That sounds so old-fashioned,” I say. “If you’d asked me at sixteen how I wanted to get married, I’d have told you I wanted to elope. Do it in Paris or Vegas. But then they died, and the idea of getting married at all made me want to cry. My mom was my best friend, and Jacqui Davenport would have made the best mother of the bride.”

I sob-laugh.

“Even now that you’re here and I’ve screwed things up so badly that you don’t want me anymore, when I close my eyes”—I do it now because I want to see her, even the half picture that she’s become, a memory of a memory, a feeling more than anything—“and I imagine bringing you home to meet my family, it’s them I see. It’s her. I didn’t want that to not be true. I wanted to live in that in-between space a little longer, where I could pretend it was possible for you to meet them if things were different.”

I can’t bring myself to open my eyes, to find out what Beau will do with my broken heart after I’ve just pulled it from my chest and asked him to hold it. I’m not the happy, wild, carefree woman he fell in love with. It’s an act to mask a childish emptiness I should have outgrown long ago. I’ve spent the last ten years pretending I’m okay, and I don’t know who I’ll be if I stop.

Chardonneigh suddenly tosses her head and paws at the earth, and I sense Beau dismounting. I open my eyes, keeping them low, and hold on to the pommel as he takes the reins of his horse and mine, then leads them to a tree where he can secure them safely.

He reaches up and helps me down, and when my feet are on the ground, he pulls me against his chest, holds my head against his heart, and strokes my hair.

“Darlin’,” he says. “I didn’t know. I wish I did. I’m sorry. I hate to see you like this, and it’s my fault.”

I breathe him in, hold him tight, and let myself collapse against his firm, familiar frame.

“No. I’m sorry. I tried to keep you close and push you away at the same time. It’s my fault you didn’t know how much I loved you. Still love you.” My voice falls. Admitting I love him is the easy part, but it’s not the whole truth. “And I don’t want to lose you again.”

His chest rises and falls with a deep breath. I don’t have the courage to look up and see what my confession has done to him. I’m not sure I’m ready for what it might do to me.

“You’re not going to lose me,” he whispers, and I tighten my arms around his waist.

We hold each other in silence for a while, and I let myself be soothed by Beau’s heat and strength. I’ve missed this. I’ve always been independent. I like to figure things out for myself, because that’s been the safest way to exist. But now, I let my eyes drift shut. The sun warms my back as Beau’s breathing slows. The moment turns from my needing to be regulated to something more mutual. And natural. And right.

“My mom would have loved you,” I whisper, and his hand moves over my hair. “And my dad would’ve acted tough for thirty seconds before treating you like another son. That’s what we’re missing out on.”

Beau’s body curls around mine, his exhale heavy with regret. “I wish I’d met them.”

“Me too.”

Eventually, Beau shifts, and I self-consciously let my arms fall and step back. “So, what now?”

He huffs an overwhelmed laugh and removes his hat just to run a hand through his hair and put it back again. “Hell if I know.”

That makes me smile, and he returns it with a wink.

“But I do know I don’t want to walk away from this again,” he adds.

Hope explodes in my chest, followed quickly by a flickering flame of fear.

“Healing won’t happen overnight,” he continues carefully. “We hurt each other badly, and it’ll take more than one conversation to rewire the judgments I made about what happened between us. To forgive myself for what I did. To rewrite the reasons why you did what you did.”

“I know. It’s the same for me. I’ve spent a lot of time hating you.”

“And I’ve spent a lot of time hating myself.”

The sadness in his voice makes it hard to swallow. “What we had was so perfect,” I say. “How is it possible we screwed it up so badly?”

His mouth quirks into an almost-smile. “Maybe we could be just as good at fixing it.”

My heart skips. “Do you want to fix it?”

His smile is cautious. “I do.”

I set a hand on my middle as my stomach flips. “But where would we start?”

“Well.” Beau loops a finger into my jeans and tugs me closer, and my heart skips a beat. “We might have taken the long way round, and you might have done all you can to keep me from setting foot on this ranch, but I’m here now, aren’t I?”

I slide my hands up his arms, feeling the lines of his muscles to remind me this isn’t a dream. “You are.”

“So… show me this place?”

I blink. “What?”

“Show me the parts you were too scared to share before.” He lifts my chin with a finger, his brow earnest. “And maybe that way, your parents don’t have to miss this after all.”

My throat tightens again. “I’d love that.”

“And as for the rest of your family…” He grimaces. “Well, they hate my guts.”

I laugh wetly, feeling lighter. “You’re not wrong.”

He pretends to scowl. “Thanks. That’s comforting.”

“But it’s only because they don’t know you yet,” I say as I pull my phone from my pocket. “And I know the perfect way to change that.”

He lifts a thick eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

My thumbs fly as I tap out a text to Poppy.

Me:

Think you can talk to Izzy and snag invitations to family game night for Beau and Ollie?

Poppy:

Why? What’s going on?

Me:

I’ll explain later. But can you swing it?

Poppy:

I think Izzy will love the idea, but let me check with her and get back to you.

My niece manages the guest list for Davenport family game nights, and nobody gets in without her approval, but I have a feeling this is a slam dunk.

My phone pings, and I hold up a finger when Beau tries to ask me again what’s going on. “Hold that thought.”

Poppy:

They’re in.

Nervous anticipation leaps in my pulse. “You’re not scared of my brothers, are you?”

Beau snorts. “No.”

“Good.” I flip the phone to show Beau.

“Family game night?” he says. “What’s that?”

“My niece hosts these parties to gather the entire family in one room at one time. We eat. We torment each other. We play games. It’s fun.”

His eyes widen slightly. “Tomorrow?”

My heart beats wildly. “If we’re doing this, maybe we need to stop running from it.”

He stares at me for a long moment and then reaches for my face. “Are you sure?”

Not at all. I’m terrified. But the way his thumbs caress my face, terrified starts to feel a lot like balancing on the precipice of a new adventure.

So I nod and say yes, and when he kisses me, it feels serious enough to believe that maybe we really can find our way back.

twenty-three

Beau

The setting sun throws pinkish-golden light across the lawn as Daisy, Ollie, and I cross the backyard of the Davenport family home. From forty paces away, I can already hear the laughter and music inside. Ollie skips ahead, unable to contain his excitement, and I wipe my sweaty palms on the front of my jeans.

Daisy glances at me. “Second thoughts?”

I pick up her hand and twine my fingers through hers. “Not about you.”

“About my brothers?”

I pretend to scoff. “No. I love being outnumbered.”

“Ha ha. They promised to be on their best behavior, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried. I’m wary.”

“It’ll be fine,” she says. After a moment, she adds, “Or is this the stupidest idea I’ve ever had? Is it too much too soon?”

The knots in my stomach notwithstanding, the answer to her question is easy.

“I knew I loved you the day I met you,” I tell her. “I didn’t want to go slow then, and I don’t want to go slow now. We’ve wasted enough time, and nothing is going to change my mind about making things right with your family.”

I lift her hand to kiss the back of it, and she sighs happily, pressing her body against my arm. She’s warm and soft and smells like spring. How did I ever think I could live without her?

Up at the house, the back door bursts open, and Izzy flies out, running across the lawn wearing a massive tutu and no shoes.

She skids to a stop in front of Ollie. “I’ve been watching from the window. Want to race back?”

Ollie grins. “Sure!”

They take off surprisingly fast for kids with such short legs, and I shout after him. “Wipe your feet before you go inside!”

“He likes it here,” Daisy says reflectively.

“Silver Leaf has been good for him,” I agree.

She falls quiet, and I wonder if she shares my flicker of unease. If Daisy and I are serious about giving ourselves a second chance, we’re risking more than our hearts. Ollie’s happiness is at stake now too, but the reward will be worth it. A life and a home right here where he’s already so happy.

But first, I have to get Daisy’s family on my side.

Daisy leads me up the porch steps and into the house. The back door opens into the kitchen, which is dated but neat, with well-loved timber countertops and faded shaker-style cabinets. The floors are wide and worn hardwood planks, and the dining table, long enough to seat at least twelve, is loaded with delicious-smelling food, chipped flatware, and pitchers of water and soda. Though the room itself is empty, a sense of family lingers like everyone just left the room.

The easy generosity catches me by surprise. Outside of ranch kitchens or a farmhands’ mess hall, I’ve never seen anything like it.

The music and conversation that tickled my ears outside is louder here, drifting into the kitchen from the room beyond. It’s warm and welcoming, and it feels like an invitation meant for someone else.

“Are you okay?” Daisy asks, mouth turned down with concern.

“What do you mean?”

“You just kind of froze for a second there.”

“Oh.” I shake it off. “I’m fine.”

“My brothers are going to love you,” she says, then after a pause, she adds, “Eventually.”

My snort is quiet as she tugs me into the adjoining living room. It’s got high ceilings and plain walls, and it’s made snug by old-fashioned light fittings and timber-framed windows. Two old sofas and a low timber coffee table have been pushed to the edges of the room, revealing layers of brightly colored rugs. Three four-seater card tables are haphazardly arranged in front of a cold fireplace, where a whiteboard is propped up on the mantel. There’s a carefully drawn chart on it, with names listed in the left column and rows of blank squares beside them.

The room is packed with people. More people than I expected. There’s Dylan, who I’ve met. Chord, who I recognize because he’s a hockey legend, and a tall brunette who must be his fiancée, judging by the rock on her finger and the way she hangs off his arm. I figure out who Finn is because of the woman beside him, pop star Rosalie Thorne, who at first glance looks like a regular person in her sundress and with a baby bump. Izzy’s making introductions, and my nephew gazes up at Rosalie with wide eyes and mouth hanging open. Can’t blame the kid. I’m a little star-struck myself.

Poppy and Charlie talk together in a corner, and in another, there’s Luke, one of the Silver Leaf farmhands I’ve seen a few times around the ranch. He’s chatting to a fifty-something woman who looks a lot like Poppy, red hair and all. It must be her mom, owner of The Slippery Tipple and notorious mixer of Aster Springs’ most potent cocktails.

I knew I’d be jumping into the deep end tonight, but in a crowd like this, I can’t even see the bottom.

Daisy and I step into the room and a hush ripples out. Everyone turns toward us, the energy awkward and uncertain. I stand taller, lift my chin, and refuse to flinch when Chord’s gaze falls on Daisy’s hand clutched in mine, then rises again, and he scowls.

“Hey, everyone,” Daisy chirps like we—like I—didn’t just ruin the party. “We’re here!”

“Yay!” Izzy calls out, oblivious to the tension as she tugs Ollie across the room. “Now we can get started.”

“I’m ready,” Daisy declares, but for all her bravado, her hand stays tight around mine. “What do you have planned for us tonight?”

“It’s a Go Fish tournament,” Izzy announces. “We start with open rounds. Then there are quarter finals, semi-finals, and the final.” She leans in and flaps her hand so Daisy has to bend down to hear her whisper. “There’s a trophy, but it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Beside her, Ollie grins. His lips are already stained purple from a piece of grape-flavored candy.

“You didn’t waste any time getting into the sugar,” I say.

“It’s Izzy’s favorite,” Ollie replies.

“Well.” I give the little girl a wink. “That explains everything.”

The conversation with the kids is a convenient excuse to keep my head down, and when I look up, I’m not surprised to find everyone watching us.

“Okay, you two.” Izzy takes Daisy’s free hand, and at her imperious wave, Ollie takes mine. “We’ll show you where to sit.”

Daisy and I are dragged apart as Izzy pulls her aunt up to stand near the fireplace and Ollie shoves me toward a table.

“All right, Davenports!” Izzy exclaims. “Let the games begin! If you don’t know where to go, wait for me to show you!”

Thank Christ for seven-year-olds. I’ve avoided the awkward phase of reluctant introductions, and as Daisy throws me a glance that asks are you okay? and my nephew pushes me into a chair on the far side of the room, I nod to reassure her.

Ollie and I are paired with Luke, who dips his chin in greeting, and the redheaded woman I don’t officially know yet, which she remedies straightaway.

“Hey, honey,” she says with an extended hand. “I’m Mona.”

“Daisy’s told me all about you,” I reply. “Nice to meet you. I’m Beau.”

She smiles slyly. “Oh, I already knew that. Everyone’s told me all about you.”

I grunt, then glance at Ollie. He’s distracted, trying to shuffle his deck of cards, but I lower my voice anyway. “Then I might have expected you to be a little less friendly.”

She lifts a brow that’s darker than the hair on her head. “You’ve got enough enemies tonight, honey. You don’t need another. Plus, I got the story straight from Poppy, who got it from Daisy, which means my opinion of you might be a little more nuanced than some others.” She tips her head to the next table. “It’s those boys you got to worry about.”

I risk a glance around the room. Finn’s glaring daggers at me, but I keep my face neutral as I say to Mona, “I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she says. “But they don’t care about that. All they care about is whether you’re good enough for their little sister.”

“Go fish!” Ollie calls beside me, and Luke laughs as he picks up a card from the pile between them.

More calls of “go fish” rise around us, so I scoop up our deck and start to deal.

Mona fans her hand between her fingers and scans her cards. “Got any sixes?”

“Go fish.”

“You know,” she says, adding a card to her collection, “Daisy’s mom was my best friend.”

“Daisy mentioned that,” I say. “Got any twos?”

She hands over a card. “Losing Jacqui was…” Mona sighs. “It was hard on all the kids, but especially our Daze.”

“I’m beginning to understand that,” I say.

“Jacqui asked me to be there for her kids when she was gone, and I tried, but it wasn’t two years before Daisy’s dad passed away too, and the girls packed their bags and got the hell out of Aster Springs.” Her eyes rise from her cards. “Got any queens?”

I hand her a card, and she sets the pair aside.

“I’m sure you did your best,” I tell her. “Got any sevens?”

“Go fish,” she replies, and then, “I’m sure I didn’t. I’m sure if I had my time again, knowing then what I know now, I’d have done better. But life doesn’t always bless us with second chances. When it does, we got to know how lucky we are.” She narrows her eyes at me over her hand. “You hear what I’m saying, honey?”

I meet her gaze so she knows I’m taking her advice to heart. “I do.”

“Good. Now, you got any fours?”

I win the game against Mona, and the next couple of rounds of Go Fish pass easily enough that I start to enjoy myself. Mona is pleasant, and Luke is a soft-spoken but solid kind of man. I enjoy his company, and I still beat him at cards.

Ollie can’t keep the grin off his face. He wins against Luke, then loses against Mona, and I let him beat me just to see that smile push his pink cheeks to the max.

Once the wins are tallied on the board, Izzy and Ollie orchestrate a reshuffle. The room is small for so many grown adults to be milling around, and when I’m jostled by a hard shoulder, I ignore it, even knowing it’s no accident.

I’m seated with Violet, Poppy, and Rosalie next, and as I drop into my chair, I can feel Daisy’s eyes on my neck. I start to sweat. Just a little.

“Hello,” Poppy says across from me, exchanging darting looks with the other two women, then one with Daisy over my shoulder. “Ah, have you met Violet?” She gestures toward the tall brunette, then the tiny blonde pop princess next to me. “And Rosie?”

“Hi.” I offer them all my hand, and after they politely shake it, I take a deck of cards and start dealing. “Thanks for inviting me. It means a lot to Ollie. And to Daisy.”

“Ollie is a sweetheart,” Poppy says. “We’re always happy to have him.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” I sort my cards and eye the full hand still in Poppy’s fingers. “Got any fours?”

“So.” Rosie gives me a sideways glance, then concentrates on her cards. “This is kind of uncomfortable, right?”

I release an exhale and smile a little. “Yeah. Sorry about that. It’s my fault. I wanted to set things right with Daisy’s family, but throwing me into the mix tonight was her idea.”

“She’s done you a favor,” Poppy says with an affectionate shake of her head. “Safety in numbers and all that.”

I keep my eyes on my cards, no matter how I’d like to see whose eyes are burning holes into the back of my head. “You’ve got a point. Dylan already warned me off when I got here. Can’t imagine he’s too pleased with how things have turned out. Got any nines?”

“Go fish.” Poppy glances affectionately toward her husband. “Daisy’s brothers can be protective, but they might surprise you. They want her to be happy, and if it helps put your mind at ease, I explained to Dylan that everything wasn’t all your fault.”

My heart skips. “Is that what Daisy told you?”

Rosie rolls her lips to hide a smile. “We talked to her last night. She begged—”

“Bullied?” Violet interrupts with a shy smile.

Poppy snorts, and Rosie laughs. “Right. Bullied us into smoothing things over with the boys. Making them see that things aren’t as black and white as they might think.”

“Okay. Um. Got any jacks?”

Poppy shakes her head. “Go fish.”

I lift a card from the deck and take a minute to think. “And… did you? Explain things?”

The three of them swap looks again. This time, there’s an air of collusion about it as Poppy sets her elbows on the table and leans in.

“Listen, Beau. All we want is for our sister to be happy. None of us want the men we love to beat you to a bloody pulp, but we don’t want you to think it’s an easy thing to repair the damage you did. So pay attention because we’re only going to say this once.” She glances at her cards. “Got any sixes?”

I hand one over. “I’m listening.”

“Daisy acts tough, but she’s been through a lot, and we won’t let it happen again. Don’t convince her to trust you again if you’re only going to let her down.”

I deserve the reprimand and I’m going to take it. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting.

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life with that woman,” I tell them. “She’s it for me. There’s no way in hell I’ll lose her again.”

“Good.” Poppy nods with satisfaction as she wins the argument—and our game. “Because we won’t be so forgiving if you do.”

We make polite small talk over two more rounds of Go Fish—I win one and lose the other—before Izzy announces another rearrangement of the tables. Everyone shuffles back and forth, taking orders from our tiny sergeant, until I take a seat at my assigned position and come face to face with the ultimate accountability.

Daisy’s three big brothers.

twenty-four

Beau

We get off on the wrong foot right away.

Chord holds a fan of cards and glares across the table. Finn is a hulking menace on my right. Dylan’s a little less intimidating but no less angry sitting across the way.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve showing your face around here,” says Daisy’s hockey-player brother.

He’s a legend, and I’ve seen the guy slam players his size and bigger into the glass, into the ice, into other teammates. He’s got a scar slicing through his eyebrow, old cuts marking his hands, and cold fury in his eyes.

And his attitude pisses me right off.

I glance at Daisy. She’s staring, and she startles when Izzy taps her shoulder and points out that they’re mid-game. Charlie and Ollie round out their table. Mona and Luke play with Poppy and Violet, who can’t keep their eyes off us. Rosie is on the sofa, feet curled up underneath her, supposedly picking at a plate of food resting on her growing belly, but her eyes keep straying this way.

The fact that I care what anyone thinks of me is new, and the desire to fit in doesn’t fit me well.

“It’s not like I planned it this way,” I say mildly. “Got any queens?”

Chord narrows his eyes and hands me a card.

“You should’ve left the minute you realized this ranch was hers,” Finn says. “Instead, you stuck around, wore her down, and wormed your way into family game night.” He scans his cards, then looks at Dylan. “Sevens?”

“Go fish.”

“I’ve got a kid to raise,” I say. “I didn’t know Silver Leaf belonged to Daisy when I took the job, but when I found out, I still had to put Ollie first.”

They exchange looks, sharing an entire conversation I can’t follow.

“Did you make an effort to go somewhere else?” Chord asks. He keeps his voice low, so anyone might mistake our interaction for casual conversation. Even his posture is carefully at ease, which only tells me he’s ready to jump. “Or did you take one look at this place and decide to take advantage of the situation—and her?”

I flex my jaw. I don’t owe these guys any explanations. Those are for Daisy, and she’s the only one who understands them anyway. But the more these three jab at me, the more I dig in my heels. I have a lot to be sorry for, but they don’t know me. They don’t want to know me.

“You going to say something?” Dylan asks.

“It sounds like you’ve already made your minds up about me,” I say, plucking a pair from my hand and setting it aside. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to change that.”

Finn snorts. “Spoken like a true asshole.”

Heat burns the back of my neck, and I glance at Ollie, who’s having the time of his life.

“You guys want to hate me?” I say quietly. “Fine. I get it. But don’t sit here acting like I’m the only person who ever let Daisy down.”

Finn’s chair creaks as he shifts, and I ignore it.

“You know, the reason things ended badly with Daisy and me was partly to do with the grief and guilt she felt—still feels—about losing her parents.” I look at each of them in turn. “Never occurred to any of you to check in with her more often? Take care of her when she was all alone? Make sure she was okay?”

Dylan grows still, and Chord’s jaw cracks. They look like they’re going to flip the table to get to me. I don’t care.

“Got any kings?” I ask Chord.

“Go fish,” he grinds out between his teeth.

“So the way I see it,” I say, voice low enough to be heard around the table and still disguised by the music, “Daisy took off because what was left for her here broke her heart, and when I found her, the only thing holding her together was that she never stopped running long enough to fall apart.” I look up from my cards. “You think I got that right so far?”

Now’s probably a good time to pull back, but the fact these jerks are still pissed when they should be hanging their heads in fucking shame is the motivation I need to keep punching.

“Did you ever wonder if there was a reason she was out there alone instead of here with you, trying to heal the thing that almost broke her?”

“You don’t know shit about our family,” Chord grits out.

“Maybe not,” I admit, “but I know Daisy.”

Dylan blinks at me, and I quirk an eyebrow at Chord. “You need a card?”

He scowls harder. “Got any tens?”

“Go fish.” Anger twirls into a tornado. “Yes, I let her down. I made mistakes that I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make right again. But by the time I met her, Daisy had already been disappointed by the three men who should’ve been the safest people in her life. Don’t sit here and judge me, playing the role of protectors now when she could’ve used that ten years ago.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Chord pushes past his clenched jaw, but Finn and Dylan swap a look I wasn’t meant to see, and this time, I read it perfectly.

“Maybe not,” I agree. “I don’t have what y’all have. My parents never cared for me much, and my sister left her ten-year-old son to chase a man halfway across the country. I never had money. Never had stability or security or a safe place to call home. Daisy and I couldn’t be any more different. It was the main reason I walked away in the first place—because I was so damn convinced she’d be better off with someone a hell of a lot better than me.”

I lean my elbows on the table. “I may not have all the answers, and I won’t pretend I do. I’m not perfect, and I won’t sit here and try to tell you I am. What I will do is work hard every damn day of my life to provide the kind of future Daisy deserves. I’ll start every day with no other goal than to be a good husband and a good father. To keep her heart safe from ever again feeling the hurt I caused her, and to create a family that never makes her want to run.”

Suddenly needing fresh air, I drop my cards on the table. “You can have this one,” I tell Chord. “I need a breather.”

I walk out of the room and straight out to the porch, not looking back but feeling everyone’s eyes pressing on me. Outside, the sky is dark, and the air is cool, which is a welcome counterpoint to the heat boiling under my skin.

I fucked up one of the most important nights of my life, and I don’t know how to explain to Daisy why I did it.

I wander down into the yard, needing the breeze on my skin and distance between me and Daisy’s brothers. And soon, like I knew she would, Daisy follows. She creeps up behind me and sets a soft hand on my back.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I laugh without any humor in it. “But if things were bad before, then I just made them much worse.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Really? Don’t you know me at all by now?”

Her pretty face glows in the moonlight, and when her head falls to one side the way it does now, I know she’s loving me and exasperated by me at the same time.

“I know you better,” she says. “And if things were a little tense tonight, it was probably unavoidable. I’ve made a point of telling everyone you’re a horrible person. I can’t undo all that bad press in twenty-four hours.”

I grunt and pull her against me, nuzzling into her hair as she snuggles against my chest.

“Introducing me to your family when we’ve still got so much to work through together… it’s a lot for both of us.” I pull back to look her in the eye. “I don’t have any experience with family politics. If I keep screwing up like this, they’ll never give me a chance.”

She presses her full lips together, then shakes her head and presses against me again. “We don’t need their forgiveness if we can find a way to forgive each other.”

I release a breath and tighten my hold on her. “Are you scared?”

“Of what?”

“That we might make the same mistakes we made the first time around.”

She takes a beat. “I’m terrified.”

I close my eyes and inhale her. “Me too.”

Right now, just the two of us like this, I can almost believe the last year never happened. She’s so familiar and feels so right in my embrace. Our time apart hasn’t changed that at all.

But it’s been a long time since I touched her. Put my mouth on her. Watched with wonder as she unraveled beneath me. It makes the year without her feel like forever.

I thread my fingers into her hair and rest my forehead on hers. “Fuck it if I’m not supposed to say this, but I really need to be alone with you, Darlin’.”

Daisy’s eyes float closed, and she sighs. “You can say it. I want that too.” Her voice turns breathy. “I missed you.”

I laugh a little, low and dry. “I missed you more.”

I kiss her slowly. Tasting her, remembering her, yearning for her, and she melts against me.

“Maybe tomorrow between shifts,” she says breathlessly, “you can come to the house for an hour or two. We can have lunch and… talk.”

My mouth pulls up into a knowing smile. “I’ve got Ollie.”

“What if I asked Poppy to take him? She’s got plans to take Izzy into town for a milkshake. Ollie might like that.”

“He’d love it,” I say. “And so would I.”

Her mouth finds mine again, and I lose myself in the feel of her. This ordinary moment made new again by time and pain.

A sudden laugh floats on the air between us and the house, then a rise of music recalls me to reality.

“I should go,” I say. “I’ve made things awkward with your brothers, and I don’t want to ruin the party for everyone else.” I glance at the house. “Ollie will be disappointed.”

“I’ll get him, and we’ll leave together.”

I shake my head. “You can’t leave. I don’t want to give everyone another reason to hate me.”

“Beau.” She sets both hands on my chest. “I’m not letting anything come between us now. Not your insecurities and not my fears. This is what I want, so I’ll get Ollie and we’ll go.”

I frown. “You should be with your family tonight, Darlin’.”

“You are my family,” she replies. “So let me get Ollie, and then you can walk me home.”

twenty-five

Daisy

Poppy lets herself into my house at about midday the next day. She slips in through the rear door while I’m unloading groceries. Izzy and Ollie scamper in behind her.

“Hey!” she calls out as they help themselves to cherry popsicles. “We’re going out for milkshakes. We don’t want the sugar high to hit too early.”

Ollie hesitates, but Izzy grabs his hand before he has a chance to return his treat to the freezer and drags him out onto the porch.

“Don’t worry,” my niece tells him. “Poppy says Lucky Charms are a food group. These popsicles are even sweeter, so they’re probably packed with vitamin C.”

I cover a laugh as Poppy grimaces. “Letting her eat cereal for lunch was a bad idea,” she says. “Dylan’s going to kill me.”

“I doubt it.” I grin, then put down the jar of peanut butter, set my palms on the counter, and pin my best friend with a stern look. “Tell me. How bad was the fallout last night?”

Poppy sits on one of my new counter stools and nabs a bottle of water before I can find a place for it in the fridge, but she toys with the lid instead of opening it. “Well, it was interesting.”

I snort. “My brothers having simultaneous tantrums is interesting? Don’t try to protect me. I need to know what I’m dealing with if there’s any hope of fixing it.”

“I’m not protecting you. I’m trying to find the right words to describe it.”

“Oh, God. It was bad.”

Poppy grimaces, and I sigh.

“Is Izzy okay?” I ask. “I didn’t mean to ruin her night.”

“She’s fine. She understands things don’t always work out the way we plan, and today’s playdate with Ollie helped smooth over any disappointment.”

“Who won the tournament?”

She lifts one eyebrow. “Who do you think?”

I roll my eyes and want to throw the loaf of bread I just picked up. “You know what? It would do Chord good to lose a trophy now and then.”

Poppy giggles. “He did seem disproportionately satisfied with it.”

“There’s a joke there,” I deadpan, and she laughs again.

“But seriously,” I push. “What happened after I left?”

“There was a vibe,” she admits. “Everyone did their best to keep the energy high for Izzy and not talk about the only thing we wanted to talk about. There’s something to the idea of fake it until you make it, because by the time Chord and Finn played the final game, our enthusiasm was genuine. Izzy went to bed. Luke took Mona home.” She leans in and gives me her gossip eyes. “I think they’re dating, by the way.”

“No! Really? That’s sweet! Your mom. Violet’s dad. Who could have predicted that?”

“Not me, but if it’s true, I’m happy for them. My mom could use his good influence.”

“And Luke could use a little more fun,” I agree, then shake my head. “But can we talk about that later? I need to know how hard my brothers crashed out.”

“Do you know what Beau said to them?” she asks.

“No. He wouldn’t go into detail. All he said was he overstepped and made things worse.”

Poppy’s smile is tight. “They were livid. Beau told them they had no right to pass judgment when all three have also let you down in the past.”

I drop my bag of apples onto the counter. “He said what?”

My best friend nods. “Mm-hmm. It was ballsy, by the sounds of it. Chord, Finn, and Dylan were fit to be tied once they started going over the conversation again.”

“I, uh…” I transfer a packet of cheese slices to the fridge, processing my surprise. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did your brothers,” Poppy says. “But later that night, after Dylan had time to cool down, we talked about it, and he admitted that he could have been a better brother to you. Checked in on you more. Stepped in as a father figure after your dad died. He didn’t sleep very well.”

“That’s ridiculous. I was already eighteen. Dylan was only twenty-one! It wasn’t his job to take care of me.”

Poppy’s eyes grow soft. “Then whose was it?”

Something catches in my throat, and she stretches out a hand for me to hold.

“You were all young enough to need more than what you got after your parents died,” she tells me. “Beau struck a nerve, but with time to reflect, I think they’ll be less angry about it.”

I can’t believe Beau said that. I wish he hadn’t, because it’s not exactly true… Is it? I wonder what Beau sees when he looks at me. Someone strong or someone broken? He would never say those things unless he believed them.

I swallow my mixed emotions as Poppy goes on.

“I’m sorry too,” she says. “I should’ve tried harder to be more present in your life.”

“You were eighteen, same as me, and dealing with your own parental dramas. If you could have done better, then so could I.”

“Maybe,” she says. “But I’m sorry just the same.”

I smile and squeeze her hand. “Me too.”

She grins and takes a drink from her bottle. “So, the upshot of Beau losing his shit last night is that maybe, in some backward way, he’s earned, if not affection, then a little respect.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. The Davenport men aren’t short on ego. It takes a certain kind of strength to call them out on their behavior, especially when so much is at stake.”

“I want to believe you’re right, but Beau’s certain he screwed things up badly enough they’ll never be okay with us being together.”

Poppy frowns and takes a moment to choose her words. “We’re worried that you’ve forgiven him too easily,” she says.

“I’ve done things Beau needs to forgive, too,” I tell her. “I made it sound like this was all his fault because I was hurt. Angry. But… I love him.” I laugh with a helpless shrug. “I’ve tried so hard for so long to stop, and I can’t. Beau is my person. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Be careful? Love isn’t always enough, and it has a funny way of clouding our judgment.”

“Or clearing it,” I say, and she finally nods.

“In any event, I thought you might like to know that Chord and Finn have decided to stay at Silver Leaf a little longer than anticipated.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. They were going to leave and return for Chord’s party, but the plan now is to hang around until the big day, at least. Maybe even the whole summer.”

“But Chord’s party is nearly three weeks away.”

She shrugs like it’s a mystery to her too. “Coming off the back of what happened with Beau, I have to wonder if there was some truth to what he said. At least from your brothers’ perspectives. Maybe they want to make sure things are okay here before they take off again.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Poppy slides off her stool. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair so you and Beau can be alone. I’ll bring Ollie back in a few hours.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I appreciate this. Beau and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“I bet you do,” she says with a wink, and butterflies burst in my stomach. “I want all the details later.”

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” I say.

Poppy laughs. “Since when have you ever been a lady?”

I change three times before Beau arrives, then answer the door in an old sundress. The slightly nervous look on his face gives way to awe, eyes taking me in as they rake down my body, before he breaks into a grin.

“That’s my favorite,” he says.

“This old thing?” I smooth the floral-printed white cotton; it’s gathered at the bust to show off my boobs and stops well above the knee to show off my legs. “I’m surprised you remember it.”

“Liar.” He tweaks the tie at my neckline, but not so hard it releases the fabric altogether. The familiar gesture makes my stomach flip, and his smirk says he knows it.

“I was eager to get over here and make the most of our time together, but…” He glances down at his clothes, then hefts the bag slung over one shoulder. “I could use a shower.” His gaze travels the length of my body again, and he adds, “A cold one.”

I press a hand to my middle and step to the side. “That’ll give me time to prepare lunch.”

“What are we having?”

“I called up to The Hill and had them bring ’round Thai beef and noodle salad.”

Beau raises a brow as he shucks off his boots. “Does your brother know he’s feeding me for free?”

I grin impishly. “I left him a note.”

Beau snorts and leans in a little. I turn up my lips, inviting him closer, but he settles back on his heels with gritted teeth and hot eyes. “Shower,” he says. “Lunch. Talk.”

My breath trembles as I settle back too. “And then…?”

His eyes drop to my mouth, then lower, before rising again. “Then we’ll see.”

Beau follows me through the house, hovering so close I can feel the heat of his body and the stir of his breath. I stop at the linen cupboard for fresh towels, then step into my bedroom and continue to the ensuite bath. I’m wound tight as a drum as Beau takes the towels, hands brushing mine and making my skin tingle.

He looks around the tiled space, then stops and stares, like he’s waiting for something.

“You want to stay and watch, Darlin’?”

I hesitate, and he grins.

Rolling my eyes, I back away. “Just get clean. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

At first, I’m grateful for the time alone to pull myself together, but the sound of the water running turns my thoughts to inconvenient things. Memories. Flashbacks of Beau showering with the bathroom door open. Inviting me in. Washing my hair. His hands slipping across my—

“Hey,” he says. “What are you thinking about?”

I startle and spin around. Beau’s three paces away, showered and amused, and I realize I’m staring into space in the middle of the kitchen, a bowl of noodles in each hand, consumed by the memory of this man moving above me, large and damp, hips rolling and abs straining.

I ignore my damp panties and aching thighs. “Oh. Nothing. Just… stuff.”

His mouth twitches because he knows I’m lying. If I can read his sex face from a mile off, it’s safe to assume he can do the same for me.

I shove the food at him. “Shut up and eat.”

He chuckles as we carry our salads to my new dining table. Beau takes a seat, then runs his hand over the smooth surface of the reclaimed timber top.

“This is nice.” He eyes the ten other seats lined up in neat rows down each side of the table. “And large.”

“I’ve got a big family,” I explain, sitting beside him. “And I’ve always loved the old dining table at home. When it’s this big, it’s always covered with stuff. Books and crafts and random bits and pieces. I don’t know. It feels cozier than an empty four-seater in a counterintuitive kind of way.”

“Makes sense,” he says. “And at the risk of making this the clumsiest segue ever, speaking of your family, we need to talk about what happened last night.”

“You know families go through stuff like this, right?” I assure him. “They fight and they make up. They say things they wish they hadn’t, then find a way to apologize. Things always fix themselves in the end.”

He moves his noodles around the bowl. “Where I come from, life doesn’t work like that.”

I turn in my seat so I’m facing him, then reach for his hand.

“We hurt each other last year.”

Beau’s callused fingers tighten around mine and his mouth flattens.

“But we weren’t being honest about what we wanted. I’ll admit, it’s still hard for me to separate all the different threads in my head. Part of me still wants that life we planned—moving and working and traveling. All those months with you were some of the best of my life. I’d do anything to go back.”

He leans in and brushes a stray lock of hair back from my face. “They were the best of my life, period. Nothing compares.”

A little knot of tension comes undone in my chest. “But you wanted more.”

“I did.”

“And… do you still?”

He sighs. “I do, Darlin’. And I’ve got more reasons to want it now than I did back then. Working the way we used to, on the road and always moving, doesn’t suit a child, and I intend to get full physical and legal guardianship of Ollie. Sarah hasn’t been a good enough mother to that little boy, and I know what that feels like. I don’t want Ollie’s childhood to be like mine, and I’ve got a good case to be his legal guardian. At least, I intend to make my case as watertight as I can.”

“I respect that,” I say. “And where do you see me in that picture?”

His mouth ticks up and his deep brown eyes soften. “I see you right there by my side. But, Darlin’, can we make a life here? Your family hates me. They have no reason to care about my feelings and every reason to care about yours. I’m a brother too. I can see where yours are coming from. If Sarah brought home a guy like me, I’d disapprove of him too.”

My heart hurts as I cup his face. “You’re not a loser, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

He sighs. “No, I’m not, because I’ll work my fingers to the bone to give you and Ollie the life you deserve. But I can’t do that here. This will always be your family’s ranch. I’ll only ever be an employee depending on you for my paycheck. I’m not willing to hold my tongue or duck my head to make your brothers happy. Nothing good came from losing you, Darlin’, but I did gain some clarity: I expect more of myself. I won’t ask you to accept less than the world, but I need you to let me find my own way to give it to you.”

I blink at the sting in my eyes. “Are you saying you don’t want to stay here?”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m saying… it’s complicated.”

I sigh and let my head fall. “I know.”

Beau lifts my chin with a gentle finger. “I’m also saying that whatever we do next, we’ll do it together.”

He leans in, knees crowding my thighs, pushing my dress high enough I feel a little naked. His mouth draws closer to mine.

“And I’m saying that I really, really want to kiss you, Darlin’.”

I close my eyes and lean into his lips. My breath catches as we connect, and I whimper as he gives me one of those soft, adoring kisses that always made my bones melt.

Beau cradles my head in his hands as his mouth moves over mine. I’ve never told him how much I love the feel of his large fingers and rough palms so tender on my face. How it makes me feel like a rare and precious treasure. His kiss is patient, and we let it linger, like a tentative reintroduction to something that used to come naturally. Slowly, his fingers drift toward my neck, ghosting against my skin and leaving a trail of goose bumps.

My breath shudders against his mouth, and he swallows deeply.

“Do you want to—”

“Yes.” I kiss him again, sliding my palms along his thick, denim-clad thighs. “I do.”

Beau stands and takes me with him, hoisting me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, and keep kissing him. My body buzzes with the promise of him. I never forgot how his mouth felt on my skin, but the memories have faded and shifted. Each one is pale and insignificant compared to this.

He climbs the stairs with me clinging to him, kissing him, his palms sliding under my thighs and up my dress, a groan sounding in the back of his throat as he brushes against the lace of my underwear. He dips his fingers beneath the fabric, sweeping past the spot of wetness between my legs, and moans louder, his mouth growing rougher.

I match his desperation. It’s been too long since I felt him against me. On top of me. Inside me.

The hard ridge of his cock presses against the fly of his jeans, and I enjoy the friction as he carries me to the bedroom. He sets one knee on the edge of the mattress and eases me down, his kisses growing messy with longer, more needy strokes of his tongue. My heart pounds and my core pulses as he lays me on the covers.

“I don’t know where to begin, Darlin’,” he murmurs, towering over me, hot eyes running up and down my body, stalling on my mouth, then my breasts, then the dress rucked up around my hips. His gaze is glassy and wild, his hair mussed from my fingers. “I’ve imagined this a thousand times, and every time it’s different. Every time is perfect.”

I set my heels on the mattress and let my knees fall open. “I know where I want you to start.”

With a sigh of almost relief, he drops to the floor with a thud, throws my leg over his shoulder, pushes my panties to the side, and disappears between my thighs. I arch my back and thread my fingers through his hair, aching and dripping as his tongue laps and twirls around my clit, through my folds, into my center. His moans reverberate through my body, thrilling me with jolts of pleasure.

Within minutes, I’m writhing and moaning, fingers clutched in the sheets and hips grinding into the best, easiest orgasm I’ve ever had.

He lifts his head and wipes the back of his mouth. “Y’all soft and relaxed now, Darlin’?”

I nod weakly, and he grins.

“Good. Now you won’t mind if I take my time.”

He leaves my dress on, pushing the thin straps from my shoulders before plucking the strings to loosen the fabric and reveal my breasts. He palms one and sucks on the other, laving the nipple until it’s hard and aching.

This could last forever and still not be long enough. His hands never leave my body as he tastes every inch of my skin. I close my eyes and revel in his return, skin pebbling, pulse thrumming, and core aching. Everything right in my world again.

Listlessly, I tug at his shirt, needing to see his magnificent chest, the muscled ridges of his stomach, and the hard lines of his shoulders. He helps me peel it off, then returns to his rediscovery of my body. Every sweep of his tongue winds me tighter, and I moan and twist as I fumble at the waist of his jeans. And then they’re off, and he slides my dress down over my hips, collecting my panties as he does it, stripping me naked.

I reach between us and take him into my palm, rubbing the precum on the tip of his cock and licking it off my thumb. He closes his eyes, breathing heavily, head thrown back, jaw clenched as he gets himself under control.

I stroke him, heart racing as every pull makes him hotter and harder. His hands grow still as he concentrates less on me and more on not finishing too soon. I grip him firmly, then softly, then brush featherlight fingers beneath his balls. I do all the things I know he loves and push all the buttons I know he can’t resist.

Soon, he growls and pushes me into the center of the mattress, nudging my knees open with his hips. “I wanted to do this right,” he says. “Take my time. Show you how much I’ve missed you. But you’re not going to allow that, are you, Darlin’?”

I toss my head. “No. I need you now.”

He pulls a condom from somewhere, tears it open with his teeth, and rolls on the rubber. I squirm and slip a hand between my legs, rubbing my clit for a little release.

Taking my wrist, he pins it to the mattress above my head. His eyes are hot and out of control. “That’s my job.”

The tip of his erection meets my throbbing core, and I close my eyes with a groan that he echoes almost immediately. It’s not just the feel of a man when I haven’t had sex in over a year. It’s the feel of him. Knowing that I’m stretching around him. This is Beau inside me now.

He sinks in deeper, a single inch, and another, and I gasp against the glorious sting. My fingers dig into his shoulders as he pushes a little more, sliding home with a relieved moan.

“Fuuuck,” he groans, throat bobbing and brow furrowed, gazing down at me as he pushes his fingers into my hair, brushes my cheek with his thumb, soaks in the picture of me beneath him. “Fuck, Darlin’. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” I slip a hand around his neck. “Do I feel the way you remember?”

“Better.”

I moan and pull him in for a kiss.

We rock, slowly at first, savoring the sensation of being together again. It’s magical, and soon the rhythm of his hips increases, and our bodies grow slick and salty. Our breaths chase each other, faster and heavier, and the tension tightens to the point of pain. We push each other to the edge and all the way over, tumbling into our orgasms one after the other. Kissing and throbbing and pulsing, reliving and reviving a history I thought was lost forever.

Beau softens over me, his weight shifting, pinning me down as he kisses me. The salt on his lips tastes like tears, and I take his head in my hands.

“You’re crying.”

He laughs and shakes his head, then nuzzles into my neck. “I missed you,” he says again. “You have no idea how much.”

He collapses beside me, pressed against my side, face hidden in my hair. I close my eyes and cling to him, catching my breath. I’ve cried so many tears over the last year, but it’s not what I need now. I’m too satiated and too hopeful to feel anything but a soft, languid kind of high.

“How long do we have until Ollie comes back?” I ask.

Beau moans and shifts beside me, inhaling deeply. “Another hour.”

Hooking my leg up over his hip, I press my breasts against his chest, seeking his mouth. He gives it to me willingly.

I pass my hands along lines and muscles I know as well as the rises and valleys of Silver Leaf. Dips and ridges in his body that make me feel as much at home beside him as I do here on the ranch. The pulse between my legs grows more insistent, and I roll my pelvis against him. His breath trembles at my touch, skin rippling and cooling and heating again.

“Good,” I say. “Let’s not waste a minute of it.”

twenty-six

Beau

I’m in the reception area of the community clinic, waiting for Ollie to finish his session with Amy, when my phone rings. I slip out onto the street and accept the call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Hello.” The voice on the other end of the line is gruff but pleasant. “Is this Beau Covington?”

“Yes.”

“This is Duke Montgomery. I own Emberfield in Kismet Creek. I spoke to Daisy a little while ago about hiring you for the stables in the fall.”

My stomach drops. I’ve been meaning to call Emberfield since Daisy mentioned the job, but I kept putting it off. I was waiting to feel prepared for a conversation about a job that would take me away from Silver Leaf—and Daisy. Turns out, I’m still not ready.

“Hi, Duke. It’s good to hear from you.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to say. I hear you met my son, Emmett? He’s running the veterinary clinic over your way for the summer.”

“That’s right,” I say.

Duke chuckles, and I get the impression he likes to laugh. “Well, good. So, listen, Beau. We’re about a month out from the job starting here, so I wanted to introduce myself and make sure you have my details. We’ll get all the paperwork sorted for you and your boy and make sure things go off without a hitch when you arrive.”

I move up the street a little, pacing and pinching the bridge of my nose. Pretending nothing has changed feels dishonest, but until Daisy and I define what we are, what else is there to say? There’s no real place for me at Silver Leaf, and my commitment to Daisy doesn’t change my responsibilities to Ollie. It certainly doesn’t make me less determined to pursue full guardianship, and I need a job, a home, and stability to do that.

“I appreciate that,” I tell him.

“But there is one thing I wanted to run past you, Beau, if you can spare a minute?”

“Sure.”

“You see, the job I told Daisy we have for you? It was for straightforward stable hand work. Honest work for honest pay. That’s what we needed at the time.”

“Mr. Montgomery—”

“Call me Duke.”

“Okay. Duke. Daisy would have explained my situation. I’m raising my nephew, and it’s relatively new, so all I care about is being somewhere solid and safe for him. I’ll do whatever work I have to. I’m not shy about getting dirty.”

“Well, that’s the thing. After Daisy sent me your credentials, I got to thinking maybe the job wasn’t a good fit after all. Oh, I wasn’t about to go back on my word, but with your experience, I started to wonder if we should find you something more challenging.”

His kindness, given the fact that I have to eventually let him down, is uncomfortable. “That’s nice of you, Duke, but you don’t need to worry about me.”

“You don’t know how right you are, because as luck would have it, there’s been a few changes around here, and I’ve got something even better for you. We need a property manager. Someone to handle daily stable operations, budgets, general maintenance.” He chuckles. “Well, I don’t need to explain it to you. And the money’s not bad either.”

He quotes a figure that’s fifteen percent more than I’ve ever made anywhere.

I stop pacing, feet stuck to the sidewalk. “Are you serious?”

“You bet.”

“But… you don’t even know me.”

“Well, I know what you can do. I know Daisy likes you, and she’d never let someone around her horses she didn’t trust. Plus, Emmett’s a good judge of things. He could tell looking around the Silver Leaf stable that you’re doing a good job there. Most importantly, you love your nephew, and that tells me more about a man than a twenty-minute job interview.”

It’s suddenly hard to swallow. “Well, Duke. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll think about it and give me a call next week so we can nail down the details.”

“I… uh…” I push away my doubts. “Sure.”

“Fantastic. This is my number. I look forward to hearing from you.”

I end the call, head spinning and staring at the phone long after the line goes dead. A job like this was never on my radar. My work history is so patchy that I’d long given up hope of a senior role anywhere. At least not until I could spend a few years in one place proving my worth. Duke’s offer literally knocks the wind out of me. I’m not used to people putting that kind of faith in me.

I walk back into the clinic as Ollie’s coming out of his session.

“Ollie, why don’t you take a seat over there?” Amy suggests. “I want to have a quick word with your uncle before you go.”

With an agreeable nod, Ollie helps himself to a book from a shelf of children’s novels, and I follow Amy to the other side of the empty reception foyer.

“He’s doing well,” she says quietly. “Better than I might have expected so soon after his mother’s absence. It seems he’s developed a friendship with Izzy?”

“That’s right.”

“And grown attached to Pony Noir,” she observes.

I sigh. “That’s true.”

“He talked about Daisy a little more in this session,” she tells me, “as well as Izzy’s parents. He’s settling and starting to feel safe, but I take it you haven’t spoken to him about the possibility of moving?”

“About that.” I grimace. “Daisy and I… Things have changed. The situation is in flux.”

“Ah.” Amy nods, and though I know there’s no judgment in her tone, I hear it anyway. “Well, I’m happy for you, but if there’s a way to confirm your plans sooner rather than later, I can start supporting Ollie through another change if required. You’ll keep me updated?”

“Of course. Thanks.”

All Ollie wants to talk about on the drive back to Silver Leaf is horses, and I enjoy the excited sound of his voice as we toss questions and answers back and forth. He’s still twittering as we approach Silver Leaf, and as we pull into Daisy’s drive instead of our own, his eyes light up.

“I thought we had the afternoon off,” he says. “What are we doing here?”

“Daisy invited us for dinner,” I say as I unbuckle my seat belt. “How do you feel about pizza?”

“I love it!”

He bounds from the truck and bolts to Daisy’s front door. She’s already answered his insistent bell ringing by the time I catch up.

“Hey, cowboy,” Daisy greets him. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving!”

“Well, that’s perfect because I’ve got bucketloads of groceries here and I need someone to help me eat them.”

Ollie raises his arm. “I can do it!”

She tweaks his Stetson. “I knew I could count on you. How about you go wash up and we’ll meet you in the kitchen?”

Ollie dashes through the house, confident now about moving around. I step over the threshold, remove my hat, and without thinking, lean in to give my girl a kiss. It’s deep and slow, and she responds willingly before pulling away with a glance down the hall.

“Should we be careful around Ollie? At least until…”

She drops her eyes, and it mirrors the drop in my stomach.

“Until we’ve worked out how to make this work?” I finish.

Her smile is apologetic. “Yes.”

I dip in for one last, quick kiss. “Then let’s do that. Fast.”

I hang up my hat and toe off my boots, then follow Daisy into the kitchen. She wasn’t joking about all the food. There are bowls and platters piled high with smoked meats and fresh vegetables, cheese and herbs and olives. Three massive ready-to-be-topped pizza bases are lined up on the counter, and a pizza stone is preheating in the oven.

“This looks amazing,” I say as Ollie skips in from the hall.

“Can we make them now?” he asks.

I squint out the window at the sun that hasn’t quite set, then check the hands on the clock. “It’s a little early, but I could eat.”

“Me too.”

“Me three,” adds Daisy. “Plus, I’ve got double-chocolate mud cake for dessert, so if we eat dinner a little early, it’ll give us time to get hungry again later.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I throw her a wink, then haul Ollie up onto a counter stool. “Let’s get started.”

As Ollie helps himself to a spoonful of tomato sauce, then makes a mess spreading it over his pizza base, Daisy pulls out her phone, cues up a playlist, and fills the house with music. Ollie uses bits of vegetables and pepperoni slices to make a face on his pizza, and Daisy takes it as a challenge. Just when I think I’ve nailed my pizza portrait, using olives for eyes and cheese for hair, Daisy declares Ollie the winner, and he magnanimously declares it a tie—between him and Daisy.

“That’s fine,” I say as I help Daisy slide the bases into the hot oven. “Next time, I’ll be better.”

“There’s going to be a next time?” Ollie asks.

I straighten from the oven, and Daisy and I glance at each other.

“I hope so,” she says.

Ollie pops a chunk of pineapple into his mouth. “Me too.”

When the oven timer rings, we take our slices to the dining table. The far end is loaded with reports and pens and scrunched-up balls of paper with Daisy’s laptop whirring among the debris. The nearer end is set with plates and glasses and napkins and a little vase of flowers from the yard.

With just the three of us, the large table surrounded by so many empty chairs should feel impersonal, but it’s exactly the way Daisy described. Cozy, like a family table is supposed to be.

“Maybe we can ask Izzy to come to our next pizza night,” Ollie says around a mouthful of crust. “She can sit in the chair next to me.”

Daisy and I swap another one of those looks that says Ollie’s moving fast and we need to either stop him or run to catch up.

“Definitely,” she says.

After dinner, Daisy suggests we watch a movie, so with plates of double-chocolate mud cake and glasses of wine for the grown-ups, we settle into the living room to watch Cars. Daisy doesn’t have a flat screen yet, so she sets her laptop on the coffee table in front of the velvet green sofa, and Ollie snuggles up between us.

“This is nice,” she says to me over the top of his dark head.

Ollie thinks she’s talking to him. “Yeah, it is,” he says with a sigh.

I glance at him, a tickle of worry in the back of my throat, then at Daisy.

We’ll figure it out, she mouths.

I nod. Somehow.

The movie is easy to watch, and Ollie’s giggles make me smile, but my attention wanders over and over. To Daisy, curled up on the other side of my nephew, apparently unfazed that we’re behaving like the kind of family I never had. To Ollie, who in his innocence can enjoy this moment and not turn it over, searching for the broken parts. To the house, which even partially unfurnished and unfinished, is perfect enough to make me imagine a life for us inside it. To the sky outside, dusky and darkening as the sun falls behind the mountains, so wide and open and, once upon a time, the only permanent roof I wanted over my head.

Now, I want to be inside. The world feels warmer with walls around me than without.

Ollie’s head starts to loll about an hour into the movie, and as the clock creeps closer to his usual bedtime, his eyes drift closed. My arm is stretched along the back of the sofa, and I let it drop to stroke his hair.

“Hey,” Daisy whispers. “Do you want to take these drinks to the kitchen?”

I grin. “You want another slice of cake, don’t you?”

She glares, then sticks her nose in the air. “Just for that, you don’t get any.”

Slipping off the sofa, she comes back with a pillow and blanket for Ollie. She swaps her laptop for her phone, set to play soothing lullabies, and totes her device back to the dining table.

“He had a good night,” I say, topping up our wineglasses while Daisy dishes up two more slices of cake. “Thanks for inviting us.”

“You’re welcome.” She follows me back to the table. “I had a great night too. He’s a great kid.”

“The best,” I agree. “It’s weird how much I love him. I was never very close to my sister. I didn’t know much about Ollie’s life other than the basics, but…” I blow a breath from puffed up cheeks. “I’d lay down my life for that boy.”

Daisy regards me with quiet affection, and to shift her focus off me, I reach toward the nearest ball of paper and straighten it out. It’s covered with a rough map, sinuous lines crisscrossing the page with trees, creeks, and clearings marked out between them.

“What’s this?” I ask.

She sets the cake on the table and offers me a mouthful off her fork, which I accept as she slides onto my lap. I snake my arms around her waist and cuddle her close, not taking for granted the way this comes naturally.

She spins the page ninety degrees clockwise. “It’s one of Mom’s trails.”

I scoop up the two other paper balls within arm’s reach, but with my other arm wrapped around Daisy’s waist, she does the work of flattening them.

“These ones too?” I ask.

“Yep. I’ve been drawing. And thinking.”

She feeds me another chunk of cake before I can ask, “Thinking about what?”

There’s a pause before she leans her head against mine and sighs. “You were right.”

“I usually am,” I say. “So I’m going to need you to be more specific.”

She groans under her breath and nudges me with a sharp elbow. “You’re insufferable.”

I grunt, then kiss the sweet slope of her neck. “And you love me for it.”

Daisy turns into my mouth and kisses me. “Yeah, I do.”

She twists on my lap, and the wriggle of her ass has me squirming to make room in my jeans. My dick twitches, and she feels it, closing her eyes with a slight whimper.

“No,” she whispers. “Focus.”

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “You were saying I was right about something?”

“About my being unhappy with the way things are turning out at Silver Leaf. I mean, coming home was the right thing to do, and I know I’m circling the kind of future I want for myself, but the whole operations management agreement I made with Charlie kind of sucks.”

“That tracks. You were never interested in desk work before. It makes sense for it not to fit now.”

“Really? Because I was so sure that when the business was my own, all the administrative stuff would be much more interesting.”

“Doesn’t matter how you look at it. Spreadsheets and emails and appointment books are kind of dry.”

Her eyes trace my face. “But you enjoy it.”

I shrug. “I appreciate the variety. I’d choose to be out on a horse any day, but sometimes it’s a pleasant change to clean up a budget rather than piles of horse shit.”

Her smile lifts one cheek. “I’d take the horse shit. That’s how strongly I feel about paperwork.”

I tighten my arms around her and nod at the papers. “So what’s all this about?”

She ghosts her fingers over one of the maps. “I came into this wanting to be like my sister, but I got it all wrong. I love Charlie, but I don’t want her life. I want the life my mom had. It scares me so much to say it, but my mom loved it here. She never felt trapped or frustrated. Even though she spoke about traveling all the time, she never actually went anywhere. She managed to make this place feel like one big adventure instead. I want to recapture that somehow. I want Silver Leaf to feel the way it used to feel when she was alive.”

“That’s a great idea,” I tell her. “Is that what these maps are for?”

“Yes.” She traces a line on the closest piece of paper. “These are some of the trails we rode when I was a kid. Clearings where we camped. The rivers where we swam. Mom and I used to talk about guided camping tours. Hiking. Glamping. More than just the horses. A real immersive experience.”

“And this is something you want to do?”

“I think so. We don’t get a roaring trade via the cabin lodgings, and they’re most often taken by corporate or event guests. I think with great wines and good-quality camping gear, Dylan supplying the food—or maybe offering high-end camping tours that include a chef—this could really be something.” She glances at me, a little unsure. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s clever,” I reply. “It’s familiar enough that people will understand it, but with a Silver Leaf spin that’s all yours. Would you set up in one place or lead riders out to different locations?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet. I like the idea of riding, but I’ve got to consider the horses and safety risks. Insurances.” She rolls her eyes. “A month running the business has made me realize it’s not enough to have the idea. I need to iron out all the details too.”

She sighs and sags a little. “I don’t want Charlie to know she was right about me. She said I’d be bored, and it’ll kill us both to admit she was right. I don’t want to go to her with any of this until I’m sure it’ll work.”

“And what about the stable?” I ask. “Would you continue to manage it?”

“Well.” Daisy casts me a sidelong look. “I’d hire someone to oversee operations. A stable manager. Someone I could trust.” She’s trying hard not to smile. “Do you know anyone who might be interested?”

My heart skips. “You mean me?”

“Yes. What do you think?”

I’m stunned. Maybe I should’ve seen this coming, but with everything that happened with her brothers, the last scenario I expected was being hired to run an entire arm of the family business. It’s a great opportunity, one that matches the offer at Emberfield, but there’s one important difference. I earned that opportunity in Kismet Creek. I didn’t earn this one.

“You think your brothers would go for it?” I ask.

“My family wants me to be happy,” she says, but I know her well enough to hear the forced confidence in her tone. “And you are what makes me happy. They’ll come around. They just need to get to know you, is all.”

She leans in. As her lips meet mine and the heat of her body mingles with my own, my dick starts twitching again. Daisy circles her hips, and a quiet growl sounds in my chest.

My arms tighten around her waist, and her mouth opens in an invitation to stroke deeper when a cry sounds from the other room. We startle and jump apart.

“Daisy!” Ollie calls, then louder and more stricken. “Daisy! Uncle Beau!”

We rush into the living room, and Daisy falls to her knees beside the sofa before I can get there. Ollie’s sitting up ramrod straight, head swiveling and eyes hunting for something. She sets a gentle hand on his forehead, then smooths his matted hair.

“Hey, cowboy,” she murmurs. “It’s okay. Shh. We’re here. We’re right here.”

“Are you all right, buddy?” I take a seat at the end of the sofa and set a hand on his leg. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“I don’t know.” Tears stain his cheeks, and his eyes are bleary, but he’s slowly coming around. “I woke up and you weren’t here, so I got scared.”

“Oh, honey.” Daisy gathers him in her arms. “I’m sorry you were frightened. We were in the next room talking about business things, but it must have been scary waking up and not knowing where we went.”

She glances at me, and I squeeze my hand on Ollie’s slender calf. “We’d never leave you alone, Ollie. You’re safe here. I promise.”

His breath shudders as he nods. “Okay.” He sniffles and rubs his nose. “Can we go home?”

I sigh. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Daisy shoots me a look of concern before she retrieves Ollie’s boots and hat. She keeps him stuck to her side as I grab my own boots and then passes him to me with a kind of worry that warms my heart. It’s nice to know she cares. She doesn’t have to, but she does. And though it doesn’t lessen the responsibility I have to my nephew, it somehow makes the weight of it more manageable.

Ollie sways on his feet, so I scoop him up, and he turns into my chest. Daisy fondly brushes a stray hair from his cheek.

“Take care of him,” she whispers.

“Always.”

She gazes up at me with the whole world swirling in her speckled hazel eyes. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

“And if it’s not?”

She pauses to look at Ollie, then squares her shoulders. “It’ll be fine because it has to be.”

twenty-seven

Daisy

In lots of ways, Silver Leaf is exactly as I remember it was when I was a kid. The air smells the same—rich and earthy and open. The shape of the horizon is the same, the mountains and valleys and the way the river carves its way through the land. The sky hasn’t changed, and on late summer days like today, it’s the kind of blue that tricks me into thinking I’m still fifteen and the world makes sense.

Around the property, so much reminds me of my happiest days. The drive up to the reception house, for one thing. The rows of silvery olive trees that Mom and Dad planted when they bought the place now a crowning canopy from the front gate to the gravel drive. The main house is the same too. We haven’t changed a thing about it in the decade since Dad died. There are new rugs on the living room floor, and the television has been updated, but the furniture hasn’t been replaced. Mom’s books and vintage teacups still line the display shelves. Dad’s ratty old armchair still sits opposite the fireplace. Dylan cooks on the same stovetop where our mom made us pancakes. We sit at the same scarred timber table to eat them.

It’s like one day, they just left us, and time after that stood still.

It makes the ways things have changed hard to ignore. Mom and Dad’s old cabin by the river won’t be the same for long. Finn and Rosie have plans to renovate, making it more modern and suitable for a family so they have somewhere to stay when they visit. My stable has been completely refurbished, and the barn house is contemporary enough to be unrecognizable from the structure it used to be. We’re establishing a day spa that Poppy will run. And work has already begun on the bridal design studio Chord is building for Violet so that when they move back to the ranch permanently, she won’t have to commute so often to her flagship couture store in San Francisco.

So there are changes. Visible, tangible changes. And they all began with the house Chord built at one of the far edges of the Silver Leaf boundaries. A beautiful stone and white-clad mansion with a fully equipped basement gym and a five-car garage, plus a wet-edge pool with its own pool house. It’s perfectly put together, ridiculously expensive, and way over the top. Just like my big brother.

Chord’s house was the first domino to fall in the evolution of Silver Leaf, and it was the first time we knew that our world would keep spinning without Mom and Dad in it. I wasn’t here when it was built, but I was kept updated. That’s the way things work here. The five of us vote on anything that impacts the ranch. We own it together, and we make decisions together. Charlie is the driver, but we all have a hand on the reins and we all have a say in the direction we move.

I remind myself of that fact as I guide Chardonneigh up the driveway to Chord’s place, hitch her to the closest fence, then walk around back. The plan is to let myself in, but I don’t need to. Chord’s in the pool, swimming laps, and he’s not alone. Finn is here too. He notices my arrival first and catches Chord’s attention the next time he reaches the end of the pool.

Chord slicks the water from his face and drags his hands through his dark hair while Finn pushes himself up out of the water and grabs a towel.

“Hey, Daze,” Chord says, standing so the waterline reaches mid-chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I perch on the edge of one of the pool loungers. “Can I talk to you?”

“Is this an A-to-B conversation or can I stay?” Finn asks.

“You can stay.” I glance back up at the house. “Where are the girls?”

“Violet’s in the city,” Chord says. “She had an appointment at the studio.”

“And Rosie’s at the cabin,” Finn adds. “She’s had a burst of creative energy coming into the second trimester and needed time alone to write.”

“I thought you did that kind of stuff together these days,” I comment.

Finn shrugs. “We do, but the creative process ebbs and flows, and she’s working on something for her new record. Plus, I needed a workout, and the old man here needed his ass kicked in the gym.”

“Fuck off,” Chord grumbles, setting his hands on the pool coping and heaving his heavy body out of the water.

Finn grins, then throws another towel at our brother.

At thirty-five, Chord’s hardly old, and as a professional athlete, he’s in excellent shape, but his retirement from hockey makes him a little sensitive about his age. Finn likes to make the most of that.

“You want to talk to me?” Chord asks as he dries off.

“It’s about Beau, isn’t it?” Finn adds, face wrinkling into a scowl.

Chord shoots me a sharp look, and I roll my eyes with an exasperated sigh.

“Yes, it’s about Beau, but if you two numbskulls can’t get over yourselves long enough to take me seriously, I won’t bother.”

I stand to leave, but Finn stops me with a hand on my arm before I can get past him. “Don’t go. We’re listening.”

I cut my eyes to Chord, waiting for him to disagree, but he’s solid and silent. With a sigh, I drop back onto the lounger. My brothers take two of the other reclining chairs, sitting on the edges and giving me their full attention.

I take a deep breath. “Fine. Here’s what it is. Chord, I want you to invite Beau to your retirement party.”

Finn snorts, and Chord’s eyes narrow at me. “Why?”

“Because I love him, and I plan to marry him—”

“Over my dead body,” Chord growls.

“I plan to marry him,” I repeat, “so if you want me to stay at Silver Leaf, I need you to make an effort. Move past what I said happened between us. Get to know the real Beau. Let him know you. Figure out a way to make him feel as welcome here as I’ve done to make Violet and Rosie feel like they belong.”

“They do belong,” Chord says shortly.

I challenge him with a stubborn chin. “And so does Beau.”

“He’s done nothing to give that impression and everything to make me think the opposite.”

“What? What has he done? Bruised your ego? Called you out on your own bullshit? Made you feel bad about the choices you’ve made? The choices that led me to Beau in the first place?”

I glare at my brother, and he glares back.

“This isn’t about us,” Finn says. “It’s about you and what’s best for you, and Beau isn’t it.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because you said so!” Chord snaps.

I huff and cross my arms. “Well, I was wrong. Haven’t you ever made a mistake? Haven’t you ever hurt someone you love trying to do the right thing? Haven’t you ever wished you could go back and make better choices? Because that’s what happened with me and Beau. We both screwed up. We caused each other pain. He’s got as much to forgive as I do, and we’ve decided the risk is worth trying again. He’s it for me, like it or not. And if he’s not welcome here, then neither am I.”

“Let’s just cool it a little, okay?” Finn says. “Nobody is going anywhere. But Daze, you have to understand how hard it is for us to let this guy in, knowing he hurt you.”

“I’ve been hurt a lot in my life,” I tell them. “And not to be harsh, Chord, but you were drafted to Tampa when I was eleven, so you weren’t around for a lot of it. And Finn, I was barely fourteen when you joined the military. I’ve figured a lot of life out on my own, and this overprotective big brother routine feels a little like trying to make up for lost time.”

This changes something in their expressions, and I know I’ve hit a sore spot.

“I appreciate it,” I go on. “And I love you for it, but I don’t need it. I need you to see me as a grown woman capable of making my own choices. I need you to love me and support me. And I need you to be there when I call, but not before. Not when I’m really freaking happy and your interference threatens to destroy it.”

Finn sighs and shakes his head, while Chord’s shoulders lose some of the fight.

“And what good will it do to invite him to my party?” Chord asks.

“It’s an olive branch,” I tell him. “A step in a new direction. I genuinely think you’ll like Beau if you give him a chance. He’s smart and he’s sweet. He works hard and he’s not into bullshit—even yours. He’s determined to be a good father figure for his nephew, and he’d be a great asset for Silver Leaf. I just need you to give him a chance.”

“You need us to forget all the reasons you gave us to hate him barely more than a month ago,” Chord says.

“I need you to consider that I was talking from a place of pain, and that wasn’t fair to Beau.”

“You’re asking us to put our faith in a guy who’s already proved he can’t be trusted,” Finn adds.

“No. I’m asking you to trust me and give Beau a chance to prove he belongs.”

My brothers grow still, and I think I might have gotten through to them.

A device pings nearby, and Finn swipes up his phone from a pair of shorts dropped onto the ground.

“It’s Rosie,” he says. “She’s craving peanut butter and pickles again. I’ve got to go.”

“But you’ll think about what I’ve said?” I ask.

“Yeah. I will.” He drops a kiss on the top of my head. “I only want what’s best for you, Daze.”

“Don’t you think I’m the best judge of that?”

He barks a short laugh. “Maybe, but I guess time will tell.”

Chord stands and wraps his towel around his waist. “You want a drink?”

“Sure.” I follow him across the yard. “I’ve got something else I need to run past you.”

He quirks an eyebrow as he opens the back glass sliding door and waits for me to walk through. “Another favor?”

“Sort of, and you can relax. This one’s got nothing to do with my love life.”

His mouth quirks. “Good.”

“It’s got to do with Charlie.”

He’s got his head in the refrigerator, but I still hear his groan. He turns with two bottles of water in his hands. “This isn’t going to be good, is it?”

I take a counter stool and crack open the water. “It depends on how you look at it. You see, I prefer to think of this as an opportunity. She may think differently, which is where you come in.”

“I’m listening.”

I explain the pitch I made Charlie earlier in the summer and the way things have been going in the stable. I tell him how I’m running everything and doing exactly what I promised.

“But Chord? It’s boring, and I don’t want to do it anymore.”

He shakes his head and leans against the counter. “Daze, I have to say, you’re not increasing my confidence in your judgment right now.”

“Hear me out! I made that pitch and all those plans when I was heartbroken about Beau. I was confused and angry and not thinking straight. But now he’s back in my life and I’ve got a clear head for the first time since Mom was alive. I know what I want, and it’s not to be chained to a desk, generating spreadsheets and business reports.”

His stance softens. “All right. So what is it?”

“I want to set up the glamping tours we talked about years ago. I want to expand the trail rides to overnight adventures. I want to create real immersive guest experiences. High-end overnight camps with expensive wine and good food and fancy tents and all the five-star extras. I want to take people out and show them the Sonoma stars. I want Silver Leaf to be the adventure it used to be. Before I ran away.”

He nods quietly. “Why did you run away, Daze?”

I think for a second, searching for the right words. “Because Silver Leaf made me sad. It’s taken me this long to understand that I couldn’t run from that, and that there’s a lot of happiness here too. The reality that one comes with the other is something I need to accept. It’s hard, but the more I think about creating a life that would make Mom and Dad proud, the more the sadness seems a small price to pay for the kind of life they had. That we all had here. Together.”

Chord rounds the counter and pulls me into a hug. I wrap my arms around his waist, his bare chest still cool from his swim, and let myself feel loved by a brother who would do anything for me.

“Okay, so what do you need from me?” he asks as he lets me go. “You want my vote? You got it.”

“Well.” I wince. “This isn’t really a family vote thing. It’s a business operations thing, so Charlie gets the final say. But you’re back full time now, right? You and Charlie are going to work something out about how the place runs. You’re going to want more of a say about the business.”

“Oh, no.” He puts the counter between us again. “No way. The transition to my being here full time is already going to be hard enough on Charlie. You know how protective she is of this place, and she’s already defensive about her leadership. We just started getting along after ten years of tension. I’m not getting in the middle of a business disagreement between the two of you.”

“I’m not asking you to get in the middle! I’m just asking you to be on my side when I tell her I want to give up the operations stuff. I don’t want her to think I’m failing, but I’ve got clarity now. I know what I want, and this time, I’ll make it work.”

“How much money will it cost to set up these glamping tours?”

“I’m looking at the figures now,” I say. “I’ll have it all worked out soon.”

“And what about the stable and the horses? Will it mean hiring more help?”

“I’ll still be hands-on,” I say, fidgeting with the water bottle. “But I’m hoping that Beau can take the weight off as stable manager.”

Chord gives me a blank look. “Are you really asking me to go to bat for you and this guy against Charlie?”

“Not against Charlie. Just for me. For my future.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Daze. I’m not keen on jeopardizing my working relationship with Charlie before I’m even officially back on the Silver Leaf payroll.”

I scoff. “We’re paying you?”

He smirks. “Figure of speech.”

“Just think about it, will you?”

He sighs. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“And invite Beau to your party.”

“If you want him there, just bring him as your plus-one.”

“It’ll mean more coming from you.” I pout for good measure. “Please?”

His broad shoulders sag as he sighs. “Maybe.”

I jump from my stool and rush around to hug him. “Thank you!”

He grunts. “I said maybe.”

“Wish I could stay and talk about this more, but I’ve got to get back for the afternoon trail rides,” I say. “You really are the best big brother ever.”

I slip out of his arms and rush from the kitchen, then out the back door.

“I said maybe!” he shouts after me.

“Can’t hear you, bro!” I call back. “But I know I can count on you!”

I mount Chardonneigh and ride to the stable feeling like a weight has been lifted. Things are going to work out. I just know it.

twenty-eight

Beau

Daisy invites me and Ollie to dinner again on Sunday night, but I’ve got a better idea. We arrive late in the afternoon, grinning like a couple of clowns on her doorstep.

“Pack a change of clothes while I box up the food,” I tell her when she opens the front door.

Daisy gives us a puzzled smile. “Why?”

Ollie jumps into the air. “Because we’re going camping!”

“We are?” She glances past us to where my beat-up old truck is parked in the drive, the bed loaded with a tent, sleeping bags, and other camping gear.

“Where did you get all that?” she asks with wonder.

“Borrowed it,” I tell her. “Luke helped. Almost everything is out of the garage at the main house. It was pretty dusty, but I checked it all twice, and it’s in good condition.”

“We’re going to build a fire,” Ollie adds, bouncing from foot to foot. “And roast marshmallows so we can make s’mores.”

“You got the graham crackers?” she asks.

“Yep! And chocolate.”

Daisy grins, but it falls away when she looks at me. “I can’t go. The horses.”

“Ryan and Marcus agreed to take the morning shift tomorrow,” I tell her. “And you don’t have trail rides until the afternoon, so we’re free until noon, at least.”

Her smile returns, brighter than before. She tweaks Ollie’s hat and gives me a wink.

“Well, then! I guess we’re going camping. Come in while I get ready.”

There’s a large bowl of chili and a basket of cornbread waiting on the table, and it takes no time at all to load it into heatproof containers.

“See if you can find some orange juice and apples in the fridge,” I say to Ollie while I organize the food. “And granola bars in the cupboard. Those will do for our breakfast.”

Ollie finds what we’re looking for, and we’ve transferred everything to a cooler by the time Daisy appears with a backpack slung over her shoulder. She swapped her cowboy boots for hiking ones, and the strong lines of her calves and thighs look incredible in her short denim cutoffs. Her ponytail sticks out the back of her baseball cap, a bouncy blonde mane that matches her tight, bouncy purple tee.

“What?” she asks with a puzzled frown. “What are you looking at?”

“Oh. Um…” I glance at Ollie, who watches me, waiting for an answer. “Nothing. You just… look great.”

Daisy’s eyes sparkle above her pleased smile. “Thanks. So do you.”

I clear my throat and ignore the heat creeping along my neck as I heft the cooler. “You ready to go?”

She stands taller and nods sharply. “Let’s do it.”

We pile into the truck, Daisy beside me up front and Ollie in the back. I start the engine, and as the staticky old radio hums to life, I defer to my copilot.

“Where to?”

Her forehead furrows, and she squints out the window, thinking hard before the line between her eyebrows disappears and she points a finger toward the horizon.

“Take the drive down to the dam, turn left, and I’ll direct you from there.”

I do as I’m told, going slow to give us time to admire the surroundings. I haven’t seen as much of Silver Leaf as I’d like, so the rolling pace is as much for my benefit as it is for hers and Ollie’s.

The road we’re on is framed here and there with tumbled boulders, the grass dry in patches before it rolls into the vineyards. Some are open and fallow, others green and full of grapes hanging heavy on the plants. Everything’s neatly marked with timber and wire fences, and in the distance, cows graze in an otherwise empty paddock.

“Are they yours?” Ollie asks.

Daisy turns and cranes her neck, needing to use my window to follow Ollie’s line of sight.

“Yep. They joined the family about six months ago. Dylan wants to make everything from scratch these days, so all the cheese and butter and yogurt in the restaurant is thanks to those girls. We sell a few things, too, in the Silver Leaf tasting room as well as artisan markets around the place.”

“Cool,” Ollie says.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Very cool.”

She gives me a surprised look. “Thank you.” And then, after a glance out her window, she points and says, “Turn here.”

For a while, we drive along dirt roads well worn by farm equipment, until finally Daisy takes us closer to denser woodlands cut through by a narrow river. There’s plenty of room for the truck to get through, evidence that larger vehicles have been here before. But with the encroaching growth of plants along the trail, there’s a feeling of abandonment about it.

Soon, Daisy tells me to pull in, and we park at the edge of a clearing about thirty feet across.

“We’re here,” she announces, and with a click of his seat belt, Ollie flings himself from the truck. Daisy and I share an amused look.

“I think he’s excited,” she says.

“I think you might be right.”

Daisy slides out of her seat and rounds the hood to catch up with Ollie. I debate asking for help unloading the equipment, but the two of them are already halfway down to the river’s edge, Ollie hopping like a rabbit alongside Daisy’s eager step, and I can’t bring myself to interrupt. I take one look at the stuff in the truck bed, then scan the sky and decide I can spare a few minutes to enjoy the moment.

I approach them as Ollie gasps. “I think I saw a fish!”

“You probably did.” Daisy narrows her eyes at the sparkling blue. “I used to come here with my mom and dad when I was about your age, and we’d catch bluegill.”

Ollie’s shoulders fall. “Oh. We didn’t bring any fishing lines.”

“It’ll be dark soon anyway.” She ruffles his hair. “Next time.”

“Talking about getting dark,” I say. “We should probably get our tent up.”

Ollie asks a hundred questions as we unload the truck and set up the campsite. Daisy answers them all, and her single-minded focus on making this experience wonderful for Ollie makes me warm through the chest. At the first hint of a mosquito, she pulls him aside and sprays his skin with insect repellent. She shows him where to find the best firewood, then plasters his knee when he falls and breaks the skin. She gently corrects the way he rolls out the tent fabric, then patiently gives instruction when he’s hammering in the pegs.

I’m a third wheel for at least half an hour, but watching them from the outside makes me feel lucky to be here, not pushed aside like I don’t belong.

It feels a little like my tiny family grew by one person tonight.

“Okay, cowboy,” Daisy declares, hands smacking her thighs as she straightens from securing the last tent peg. “It’s time for dinner.”

“Can we start with s’mores?” Ollie asks, and when Daisy glances at me, Ollie clasps his hands together and gives us both sad brown eyes. “Please?”

“You could have one s’more now,” I counteroffer, “or you can eat the chili and bread first, and then have as many s’mores as you like after.”

He contemplates his options in three seconds flat, then kicks at a rock. “Fine. Chili first.”

“Good choice,” Daisy says. “Because I make excellent chili.”

Three thick logs are already arranged in a circle of benches in the clearing, and there’s a ring of old soot-stained stones in the center. Daisy is quiet as we load it with kindling, and when she steps back with Ollie safely under her arm, watching as I set the fire, her eyes glisten between blinks.

I take her hand as the flames catch, and Ollie looks on with silent wonder.

“Are you okay?” I ask in a low voice.

Her smile is tight. “I used to camp here with my parents and brothers and sister. All of us together. I feel like Mom and Dad are here with us now. Is that weird?”

With her hand still in mine, I loop my arm around her shoulder and pull her closer. “Not at all. I like the idea that we can share this with them.”

She blinks up at me with a wistful smile. “Me too.”

Dinner is fast and no-fuss. The chili is still warm, so it doesn’t need too much time over the fire, and Ollie unabashedly asks for a second helping.

“I think it’s the novelty of eating from a tin plate,” Daisy murmurs as we watch him shovel in another mouthful, then dunk his chunk of cornbread. “Though my mom would say it’s being outdoors. Fresh air makes kids hungry.”

“I’d say you’re both right.” I take a mouthful of my third bowl. “I’d also add that your chili is excellent.”

She leans in and whispers, “It’s Dylan’s chili, but thanks.”

I take Ollie down to the river to wash the plates and bowls, and by the time we return, Daisy has set out all the fixings for the s’mores. Ollie sits alongside her, so close he’s almost in her lap, and not to be outdone, I snuggle up on her other side.

“I feel like one of these marshmallows,” she laughs. “You two are going to squish me flat!”

“Oops,” Ollie says, scooting away a little. “Sorry.”

Daisy chases him with a shuffle of her butt. “Who said I didn’t like it?”

Ollie beams, and I hand them long sticks from the pile of kindling, followed by two fat, white marshmallows.

“Poke a stick through here,” Daisy says, showing Ollie how it’s done. “Good. Then lower it toward the flames. You want to caramelize the sugar, not turn the whole thing to ash.”

It takes three tries for Ollie to get it right, but soon enough, we’re helping him squash a hot, soft marshmallow between two crackers. Chocolate oozes out, and he impatiently blows on his treat before taking the first bite. Orange light illuminates his freckled face as he groans with delight, eyes rolling back in his head.

“I think he’s a fan,” I say as Daisy takes a napkin and wipes the chocolate dripping down his chin.

“This is amazing!” Ollie says, mouth still full. “This whole day was amazing. I love you guys.”

Daisy freezes, and so do I. This is the first time he’s ever said that, and now he has, I wonder why it’s taken me so long to say it too.

“I love you too, cowboy,” Daisy whispers. She plants a kiss on the top of his head.

“And I love you more,” I add, throat a little thick. Reaching around Daisy, I pull them into a three-person hug.

Ollie grins like none of this means as much to him as it does to us, and maybe that’s true. “What do we do now?”

Daisy dusts off her hands, then removes her hat and wraps her long hair into a messy knot. “The fire’s dying down, so the stars will look brighter soon. Why don’t we get our pillows and blankets, and I’ll tell you stories about the sky?”

“Yes!” he shouts before he bolts into the tent.

“Heads up,” Daisy says, spinning around to face me while my nephew drags our bedding from the tent. “He put his sleeping bag between us, so we’ll be a cozy little trio tonight.”

I swing my leg over the log, letting my knees brush hers as I lean closer. The glow of the fire makes her eyes shine with colors I can’t see in the daylight, and her skin shimmers in the low light. Damn, she’s beautiful.

“You know what?” I murmur. “That’s all right by me.”

We let the fire collapse into embers, and the great blackness above twinkles like magic in the dark. And after Daisy sends my boy drifting into sleep on the back of legends about the Hunter and the Scorpion, and Hercules defeating the lion, and seven sisters saved from danger by transforming into lights in the sky, I carry him into the tent and tuck him into his sheets. I turn on a small night light and stuff it into a corner, then drop a kiss on his head and carefully crawl back out.

Outside, Daisy is on the ground, leaning against the log and poking at the last bits of wood as she stares into the dying fire. I lower myself next to her and settle my arm around her shoulders. She sinks into my embrace.

“He had a great time tonight,” I tell her. “And so did I.”

Daisy hums and turns her face into my chest. “This is my happy place.”

“This clearing?”

I feel rather than see her smile. “No. Under the stars with you.”

My fingers brush up and down her arm as I breathe in her hair to give me strength. “I have to tell you something.”

“Hmm?” she says, almost sleepily.

“Duke Montgomery from Emberfield called.”

Her stupor falls away and she sits up straight. “He did? Why?”

I fidget a little, and she takes my hand to still it. I release a nervous exhale.

“He wanted to tell me there’s a better job available if I want it. More responsibility. More stability. More money.”

“Oh.” She worries at her bottom lip. “And what did you say?”

“Nothing. I mean, he asked me to think about it, and I said I would.”

She nods slowly, eyes drifting toward the fire. “I understand. It sounds like a great opportunity.”

I turn her head with a bent finger under her chin. “I don’t want a life without you in it, Darlin’. I’ve done it once, and I’ve got no plans to do it again. But we’ve got to be realistic. I can’t stay at Silver Leaf if your brothers don’t want me here, and I can’t jeopardize my guardianship of Ollie.”

Daisy lowers her head to my shoulder. “I know. I’d never ask you to do that.”

She sighs, and I snuggle her against me as we stare up at the stars. “Any stories up there about lovers overcoming all odds?”

She gazes upward, eyes tracing the shapes in the sky, but she doesn’t answer my question, and something about the tension in her body feels important.

“Darlin’? Is there something else?”

She shakes her head. “Just promise me you won’t accept Duke’s offer until after Chord’s party. Give me a little more time to come up with a solution.”

So that’s it. I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s so sure she can make this work, even when all the signs point to disaster.

I rest my cheek on her head. “All right, but I don’t see what difference a week is going to make.”

“It might make all the difference.”

A small surge of hope catches me off guard, and I quickly quash it. “And if it doesn’t?”

Daisy is quiet for a beat, and then, “I’m not losing you again. I won’t survive it.”

I gather her even closer, unable to stand the whisper of space between us.

“Don’t worry about that, Darlin’, because I’m never going to let you go.”

We watch the sky in silence for what feels like forever, Daisy’s chest rising and falling against me in steady, even breaths. If I could stop the world right now, stay frozen in this exact moment, where everything still might work out, I would. Because as much as I want to believe that things could be different, experience tells me things never end the way I want them to.

At some point, my eyes drift closed, and I open them again when she tugs on my hand.

“Come on,” she says. “Time for bed.”

I let her lead me into the tent and then crawl into the bedding after her. Daisy stretches out on Ollie’s other side while I fall into my pillow. I’m filled with so much gratitude as I lie here wrapped in a sleeping bag and bone-deep contentment, and a wish on the millions of stars above us that our lives will be defined by this kind of perfection.

“Thank you for doing this with us,” I whisper across my sleeping nephew.

Daisy tucks her hands under her cheek, her eyes shining in the near darkness. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“He loves you,” I murmur, with a glance at Ollie’s peaceful face.

“And that scares you,” Daisy guesses.

“A little,” I admit. “It’s a lot, this parenting thing. Even the little things feel big.”

“Love is no little thing,” she replies.

“No.” I lift my eyes to hers. “It’s not.”

She gives me a one-sided smile. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Darlin’.”

I wait until her eyes close, then I burrow into the covers and let sleep take me too.

When I wake, Ollie’s curled against Daisy and her arm is wrapped around him protectively. I lie there as the sun rises, watching them sleep and wondering how I’ll ever be able to take him away from Silver Leaf now.

twenty-nine

Beau

“I think I missed this the most,” Daisy says as she hip-checks me on her way down the stable aisle.

I grunt. “Giving me a hard time?”

“That too,” she says with a grin. “But what I meant was working together. Moving around each other. You know… hanging out.”

I loop a finger into her jeans and yank her to me, hard enough that the wide-brimmed hat falls from her head. “I miss it too.”

She smiles, eyes straying to my mouth, then clears her throat with a pointed glance at the hayloft. Ollie’s up there, safely ensconced in a corner, counting horse cookies for this week’s “inventory report.” We’re waiting for the right time to tell him about us, but we both know the right time won’t arrive until we know where I’ll be come September. And with the days passing faster the closer we get to when I’m expected at Kismet Creek, time isn’t on our side.

I let Daisy go and step into the nearest stall, pull the screwdriver from my back pocket, and start work on a loose latch while she guides Marelot out into the aisle.

“No trail rides this afternoon?” I ask.

“Nope. I’m tacking up for Chord and Violet. They’ll be here any minute.”

“How are they with horses?”

Daisy rolls her eyes fondly. “Chord’s an excellent rider, but then again, Chord’s excellent at everything. Violet’s good. She wasn’t a year ago, but I gave her lessons, and she can hold her own now.”

“That’s great,” I murmur, glaring at the lock. “Just great.”

Daisy pops a hip and pins me with an affectionate but reprimanding look. “You’re going to love them, and they’re going to love you. It’s only a matter of time.”

I scoff quietly. “Not sure about the love part, but I appreciate your optimism.”

I understand why she believes that the biology of family makes happy endings inevitable. She’s got a lifetime of love to prove it. But I know better. Blood isn’t always thicker than water. Family doesn’t always come through for you like you want them to.

I keep an eye on Daisy while she does her thing and I do mine, but she’s got everything under control. I finish the latch on the stall gate while Daisy’s outside tacking up, and as she returns for De Canter, I scale the ladder to the loft and poke my head up over the edge.

“Everything all right up here?” I ask Ollie, who’s carefully stacking horse cookies and making markings on his sketch pad to track the numbers.

“Yep,” he says distractedly before pinning me with a frown. “You made me lose count!”

“Oops. Sorry, buddy. I was only checking to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Uncle Beau,” he says with a touch of childish exasperation.

“Good to hear. I’ll see you again in twenty minutes.”

His dark head is already bent over his notes again, furiously scribbling out whatever sums I messed up, and I chuckle at how quickly he’s become comfortable around the horses and in the stable.

My feet hit the ground just as Daisy’s leading De Canter out through the stable doors. Without warning, a covey of quail bursts from the grass by the paddock gate, and a lone bird shoots across Daisy’s path. De Canter startles, forelegs lifting as he surges sideways with a powerful jerk.

Daisy grunts as she’s yanked off balance, and I run to her, knowing she’ll have him under control again before I get there. And it’s true. In the time it takes me to reach her, De Canter is still again, eyes rolling a little, but Daisy’s face is crumpled with pain, and she’s cradling one hand against her chest.

“What’s wrong?” I demand, pulse racing. “What hurts?”

“Rope burn,” she hisses between clenched teeth. “Ah… fuck.”

Relief and anxiety make my heart skip. I hate that she’s injured, but I’m grateful it’s not more serious.

“It’s okay,” I say soothingly. “I’ll take care of you. Give me De Canter, and I’ll be right back.”

Daisy relinquishes the lead rope, and I guide the gelding out of the stable. After easing his nerves with a gentle circle of the paddock, I secure him on the tie rail a little distance from Marelot and hurry back into the stable. Daisy’s sitting in the aisle, perched on an upturned bucket, eyes pinched and face pale as she examines the red stripe on her palm.

I squat down in front of her. “Let me see.”

She lets me take her hand. “I’m fine,” she says. “It’s not that bad.”

I scan her face quickly, then return to my examination of her palm. “Stings like a motherfucker, doesn’t it?”

She huffs a laugh. “It really does.”

“Let’s get you to the sink.”

In the tack room, I pull out the first aid kit before running the faucet, then set her hand under the cool water. She gasps, the fingers of her other hand biting hard into my bicep.

“I’m sorry, Darlin,” I murmur, concentrating on the wound to make sure the skin is flushed clean. “I know it hurts.”

She leans against me, face turned into my chest, and I kiss the top of her head as I wash the area with soap, then pat it dry with a clean towel. Daisy’s jaw is hard, her eyes tight around the corners.

“You’re tough, Davenport,” I say with an encouraging half smile. “I’ve seen men twice your size weep over rope burn half as bad as this.”

She laughs despite herself. “That ranch in Oklahoma, right?”

My grin deepens. “You remember.”

“Hard to forget the way you cried like a baby.”

I chuckle because we both know I handled it like a hero. “Whatever you say.”

I find a tube of antibacterial ointment and apply a thin layer, then wrap her hand with gauze. Finally, I offer her two ibuprofen.

“Take them,” I say. “Then go home and rest. I can finish up here.”

She accepts the pills and a bottle of water, then tests her hand with a tentative flex. “I don’t need to rest,” she says, “but I might not be much help around here for the next few days.”

I lift her chin and brush my lips over hers. “I’ve got it.”

The kiss doesn’t linger, but we’re still interrupted by the sound of someone clearing his throat at the tack room doorway.

“Chord,” Daisy says. “Hey. Didn’t see you there.”

“Hey,” he replies shortly.

Daisy’s brother flicks me a cautious look as his sister crosses the tack room to give Violet a hug.

“Are you okay?” he asks, nodding at Daisy’s hand.

“Rope burn. Nothing serious, and Beau already took care of it.”

“I saw,” Chord says with another look that I can’t quite read. It’s not hostile, nor is it friendly. More like speculative.

“I need to check on Ollie,” I say to get out of here. The tack room isn’t large by any definition, and with both Chord and me in the same space, I’m feeling claustrophobic. “If you’ll excuse me?”

“I’ll do it,” Daisy says in a rush.

“Your hand—”

“Your hand—”

Chord and I stare at each other, our words echoing and then cutting off in an off-putting chorus.

“I can climb a ladder,” Daisy says. She snatches up Violet’s hand, leaving the taller woman wide-eyed with surprise, and practically drags her from the room. “You boys play nice.”

She leaves me and Chord in the tack room, and it’s awkward as fuck.

“I’ve got stuff to do,” I say, making a move to leave.

Chord shifts to block my path, and I freeze. I don’t want trouble, but I’m not letting him walk all over me.

“Daisy came to see me after family game night,” he says, noting my surprise. “You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t put her up to anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He lifts an arrogant shoulder, his eyes still cool.

“Well, good talk,” I say, and try to leave again.

Again, he shifts to block my path.

“What do you want?”

“I want to know what your plans are with my sister.”

“My plans?”

“Yes.”

I square up to this wall of hockey-player hostility, impatient to be done with the intimidation routine. “I plan to marry her. Spend the rest of my life with her. Live every minute of every day making her the happiest she’s ever been.”

“Here at Silver Leaf?”

I swallow hard. “I don’t know. Daisy would like that, but I get the impression she’s the only one.”

I can’t read a single emotion on this guy’s face. I can see how he earned his reputation as a machine on the ice, but it’ll take more than muscle and an attitude to intimidate me.

“Well, then, what are you going to do for work?” he asks.

It’s a fair question, but coming from a professional athlete whose playing contracts were never less than eight figures a year, the question hits a sore spot.

“Anything,” I reply tightly. “Whatever it takes to provide a good life for Daisy and Ollie.”

Chord’s eyes narrow slightly. “Even if it means shoveling horse shit for the rest of your life?”

My temper flares. “It’s honest work,” I grind out. “And I’m not going to let a guy wearing a Rolex make me feel bad about it.”

His mouth twitches on one side.

“So is that it?” I ask. “Can I go now?”

“In a minute.”

I sigh and cross my arms. “What is it? What do you want?”

Chord softens a little. It’s subtle—a small change in his shoulders, a slight shift of his stance—but he’s suddenly less threatening. “Silver Leaf is closed this Saturday for my retirement party.”

“I know.” I uncross my arms and tip my head. “Congrats on taking the championship. It was a good game. Third period was fucking brutal.”

“You watched it?”

I shrug. “I like hockey. So what?”

“Huh. Any chance your nephew is a fan?”

I huff out a laugh. “The kid’s all about horses right now, but come hockey season, he’ll be glued to the television for games.”

“I see.” A faint line moves between Chord’s brows before he takes a breath, then exhales like a sigh. “So, listen. We’re hosting lunch up at The Hill this weekend for my family, my team and management, a few legacy players, plus an extended guest list that Charlie says is curated but required. It’s a schmooze event mostly, and the press will be sniffing around, but the food will be good. Music too.”

He pauses, and I wait for a punchline that doesn’t come. “Okay?”

His mouth twitches again, and I wonder if that’s Chord Davenport’s version of a smile.

“Do you want to join us?”

“Me?”

He lifts one brow, almost smiling for certain now. “Yeah. You.”

I run a hand down my face, trying to calculate why he’s asking, why he’s being nice, and why my instinct is to say no.

It’s because I don’t belong there. That’s why.

“I appreciate it, but I’ve got Ollie, and—”

“Bring him,” Chord interrupts. “So we’ll see you there?”

“Uh…”

“Great,” he says, like my agreement is a given. “Dress code is garden chic cocktail.”

I frown. “What’s that?”

At first, I think the blankness in his stare is disdain for my ignorance, but then he scowls.

“Oh, who the fuck knows? That’s what Charlie told me, and it was Violet’s idea, so that’s what we’re doing.”

I chuckle, and his mouth twitches again as Violet chirps from outside the doorway. “Did someone say my name?”

Chord shifts to let the girls in, and at the sight of his fiancée, Chord’s cold exterior melts away. He takes her hand and kisses the back of it. Ollie hangs off Daisy’s arm, eyes bugging at the sight of Chord again.

“I was telling Beau about the dress code for the party on Saturday,” Chord says.

“Oh!” Violet’s eyes light up as she smiles. “It’s summer garden cocktail. Linen button-downs, tailored chinos or a dressy trouser, loafers or clean, white dress sneakers. Think whites and beiges and olives with soft pastels, like blush and lavender and sage. It’ll be so pretty!”

Chord’s watching Violet with that twitchy mouth, his eyes soft, and I glance at Daisy. Her expression is smug, and I’m certain she’s put her brother up to this.

“I don’t know if I can make it,” I say. “I have to work, and I don’t have anything, uh, garden chic in my closet.”

Violet leans into Chord and blushes faintly. “I’m dressing all the boys for the event. It’s no trouble to pull something for you too. You’ll look great. Don’t worry about that.”

The idea of wearing linen pants and loafers makes me want to groan, but I don’t.

“And then there’s Ollie,” I add. “Is it an event for kids?”

“Izzy will be there,” Chord says. “So yes.”

Ollie’s ears prick up at the sound of his friend’s name, and I know I’ve lost the fight, but the inevitability of it doesn’t ease my nerves. The whole thing sounds like a playground for the rich, and I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb.

But then I look at Daisy, and she’s all lit up with hope.

“Sure,” I agree, trying to sound thankful instead of cornered. “I’ll be there. I appreciate the invitation and the, uh, offer to dress me?”

Violet laughs, and even Chord cracks a real smile.

“Glad to have you,” he says. He turns to Ollie next, lifting the brim of his hat to better see his face. “You got linen pants, little man?”

Ollie shakes his head in awe.

“Don’t worry,” Violet says. “I’ve got something for you too.”

Ollie breaks into an excited grin, which forces me to wonder if this party might be a positive development after all. For Ollie, at the very least, and maybe a step in the right direction for me and Daisy.

“I’ll finish tacking up for you,” I tell Chord, “and you can get started on that ride.”

Chord lets me pass this time, and I shoot Daisy a stern look, but she doesn’t look sorry or guilty. She looks elated, and I shake my head with a reluctant grin. I’d do anything to make my girl this happy.

She waits until Chord and Violet have disappeared along the closest trail before she throws her hands around my neck, forgetting that Ollie’s watching. But when I loop my arms around her waist, he barely hesitates before he worms his way between the two of us, making us smile.

“Thank you for saying yes to the party,” Daisy says. “It’s going to be great.”

“Linen pants?” I ask dubiously. “Loafers?”

“I think you’ll look handsome,” she says with a sparkle in her eye.

“Can I wear my hat?” Ollie asks, craning his neck to look at us.

“I don’t see why not,” Daisy says. “Unless you want me to style your hair a little? Maybe use some gel?”

He thinks about this. “Like Chord?”

Daisy chuckles. “Yeah, something like that.”

Ollie tips his head to one side, thoughts whirring behind his eyes. “That sounds good.”

I swallow a snort, but I don’t mind Ollie deciding he wants to look like the rich and famous hockey player. Maybe it’ll set a fire in his belly to not end up like me—shoveling horse shit for the rest of his life, exactly like the rich, famous hockey player said.

Daisy is a walking ray of light, and I so badly want to kiss her, but I don’t. Instead, I ask, “How’s your hand?”

“It’s great.” She beams, and I know that’s not the question she’s answering. “It’s really, really great.”

There she goes again. Believing. Wishing. Wanting. My only hope is that I can live up to her faith in me and not screw things up at her brother’s party.

thirty

Daisy

Chord’s retirement party is something out of a magazine. Charlie has outdone herself. The Fury’s budget helped, but even with buckets of money, an event of this caliber takes vision.

The color scheme is breathtaking, unsurprising given Violet’s hand in choosing the palette. There are flowers upon flowers everywhere—peonies, mostly, which are Charlie’s favorite. Bunches and bouquets burst from vases on the tables, in garlands from the ceiling, and from white, arched trellises at every entrance. The air smells of sweet blooms and Dylan’s delicious menu—platter after platter of tempting morsels that are snapped up almost the minute they leave the kitchen.

But the view over Silver Leaf from the restaurant’s wall of glass is the crowning glory, and summer has put on a show today. Blue skies stretch over endless green pastures and rich lines of vines, a nod from Mother Nature to remind me I’m home again.

Two hours in, with the speeches over, the dessert canapes circling, and the best Silver Leaf wines still flowing, the vibe is friendly and loose. If only my date was feeling the same.

From our position at the bar, I sidle up to Beau, champagne flute in hand, and lower my voice. “Did I tell you yet how hot you look today?”

He does look incredible. Beige trousers that fit snugly around his incredible ass. Sneakers, not loafers. A white linen button-down rolled to the elbows and showing off his toned forearms. He’s shaved his beard, trimmed his mustache, and styled his hair, and while I love the rough, rugged version of this man, I’m enjoying the thrill of seeing him in a different element.

He casts me a sideways look that’s part flattered and part uncomfortable. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Darlin’, because I can’t see a reason to wear linen pants ever again.”

His eyes sweep up and down my body, appreciating my floor-length lavender halter dress. It’s made of the softest, swishiest silk I’ve ever felt and cut to expose my back to the limit of decency. I’ve pinned my hair up to show it off to every advantage, and he casually drifts his fingers down my spine, then lingers at the edge of the fabric before coasting his hand over my ass.

“More importantly, have I told you what a fucking vision you are in that dress?” He slips a possessive hand around my waist and pulls me a little closer to his side. “Can’t believe how many horny hockey players keep looking at you.”

I laugh quietly and turn my head to speak softly. “You’ve got as many eyes on you,” I tell him, warm with pride and satisfaction. “Watch out, Covington, you’re hot stuff.”

He casts his eye around the restaurant, filled with Chord’s teammates, San Francisco business associates, press and social media influencers, plus other hangers-on. Everyone understood the assignment, and the place looks like a carefully choreographed fashion shoot. The fact is not lost on my sister, who hired a professional photographer to obnoxiously click, click, click his way around the room.

Beau grimaces. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.”

“You’re here as a guest of Chord Davenport,” I tell him firmly, “and you’re my date. Are you having a good time? Even just a little?”

His mouth lifts on one side. “The food’s good,” he admits. “The band can play. The wine is fantastic, and Ollie looks cute. But Darlin’, the best thing about this party is you.” He nods toward my injured hand. “Is that better today?”

“Much.” I prove it by taking his fingers and tugging gently. “Come on. Enough hiding on the sidelines. It’s time to join the party.”

I lead him through the crowds, winding past hockey players and corporate hitters, smiling politely and nodding at faces that look slightly familiar. Charlie made it clear this is a networking event as much as it is a celebration for our brother, but all that pales beside the fact that Beau’s here, and my brother invited him, and I can finally see an end to the mess we made the first time we tried to build a life together.

Our old life was built on what I thought I wanted. This one will be built on what I know I need. Beau. Ollie. My family. And Silver Leaf.

“Hey, lovebirds,” I say as we approach Finn and Rosie, who linger at the edge of a group that includes Dylan and Poppy, Charlie, Violet, and Rosie’s publicist, a woman named Pia who I’ve met before. “Are you enjoying yourselves?”

Finn snorts quietly. “The food is good. The band isn’t bad. Chord’s teammates are friendly enough, but the rest of this crowd? All the fake smiles and schmoozing?” He looks around with an analytical frown. “I’ll be happy when it’s over.”

“Told you,” Beau mumbles, and I give him an exasperated look.

Rosie slips her arm into Finn’s. “I don’t know,” she says. “This is a lot more enjoyable than some of the industry events we’ve had to attend. And at least today, I’m off the clock. We can relax and have fun.”

Finn huffs a laugh. “True.”

There’s a small silence, and I throw my brother a subtle frown, then pointedly bug my eyes toward Beau.

Finn blinks, then clears his throat. “So, Beau. Good to see you. You, ah, settling in at Silver Leaf?”

Beau tenses but recovers quickly. “I am. Working in a stable that Daisy runs is like coming home, you know? We operate in much the same ways, have similar views on things, and work well together. Ollie loves it here too.”

Finn glances at the dance floor, where Ollie and Izzy twist and jump in the off-beat and totally unselfconscious way that only kids can.

“Yeah, he’s a cool kid,” Finn comments with a genuine smile.

“Thanks,” Beau says, casting a look at the dance floor too. “I think so too.”

There’s sudden commotion on the other side of the room, at a table where Chord sits with his coach and closest teammates. I recognize most of them from watching games and the handful of times they’ve been to Aster Springs over the last year.

Not often, but when Chord first started with the Fury, his coach had to pull out all the stops to bring the guys together as a team. That meant following Chord here when he was determined to hide for the off-season. Coach Campbell’s plan worked. The Fury came from nowhere to win the championship this year, thanks in no small part to my brother’s captaincy. He’s leaving the game on the ultimate high, and I love that for him.

Though whatever happened at his table has put a thunderous scowl on his face, and he doesn’t seem to care that he’s attracting eyes as he stalks across the room, leaving the rest of the Fury’s first line sitting stunned at the table and Coach Campbell hot on his heels.

“What’s wrong?” Violet asks as my brother reaches us.

He takes her hand, and I can see the effort it takes him to stay calm and keep his voice low. Dylan, Poppy, Charlie, and Pia crowd closer to better hear him.

“Spencer fucking Cook has been traded to the Fury for next season. They’re making that asshole captain.”

My stomach drops, and I check the Fury table again, their stormy faces now making sense.

“Who’s Spencer Cook?” Beau murmurs, but it’s Dylan who answers him.

“Chord’s biggest rival,” he says. “The guy’s a jerk.”

“Right.” Beau gives Dylan a nod. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t want you to find out today,” Campbell says as he joins us, with a careful eye on the room. “I know this is difficult to hear.”

“Difficult?” Chord’s eyes flash. “The man is a dick. He’s got no moral compass, no class, and no conscience. Fury fans are going to hate him. Spencer Cook is a PR nightmare, and you know it.”

Campbell sighs and shakes his head, then oddly glances at Pia, hovering at the edge of the conversation with a glass of wine balanced elegantly in her fingers.

“You’re right, of course,” she says. “It’s why the team hired me to support his transition leading into next season.”

Chord snorts, and I glance around, relieved to see that most people have lost interest in his tantrum.

“Support his transition?” Chord asks. “You mean rehabilitate his shitty image?”

Pia smiles a little. “You could put it that way. Yes.”

“Good luck,” Chord huffs. “You’re going to need it.”

“Well, I’ll need a partner, at least. My firm landed the contract, and I’ll be the project lead, but I already have a full client list. We’ll hire someone to be on the ground in the off-season to do most of the heavy lifting.”

Chord grunts. “Hope it pays well.”

“It pays just fine,” Pia says with amusement.

“So, listen,” says Dylan, looping an arm around Poppy’s waist. “All this bitching about Spencer Cook is fun and all, and I’d say I don’t mean to change the subject, but I absolutely do. I’m taking my girl for a spin on the dance floor, so if you’ll excuse us?”

Poppy, already beautiful in a baby-blue strapless dress, beams at the suggestion. Dylan takes her hand, twirls her around, and leads her away.

Finn turns to Rosie and offers her a hand. “Care to dance?”

She smiles and sets her fingers on his palm. “Absolutely.”

Chord visibly pulls himself together, his thumb sweeping back and forth over the back of Violet’s hand, as he nods toward Beau.

“Nice pants,” he says.

Beau snorts. “Thanks.”

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” I ask, appreciating Chord’s attempt to make Beau feel welcome but wanting to bring it home.

“It was,” he says with uncommon warmth.

I squeeze Beau’s hand, and he returns the gesture with an even tighter grip.

Chord and Violet peel off next, my brother coaxing his shy, blushing bride-to-be out onto the edge of the floor, where they sway in time with the music.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Campbell says, “I’ve got fires to put out at the team table. Chord’s not the only one unhappy about his replacement.”

He backs away with a short incline of his head, and I watch him rejoin the Fury table, a bunch of big guys with beers in hand and scowls on their faces, and wish him luck trying to turn that around tonight.

I sigh and slip my hand into Beau’s. “Feel like dancing?”

He dips his head and whispers in my ear, “Just try and stop me.”

His crooked smile makes my stomach flip, and I spare a guilty wince for Charlie. She looks gorgeous tonight, her dark hair loose down her back, her curves shown off to perfection in an olive Violet James original. A pang of guilt reminds me that I began the summer trying to convince her it was the two of us against the world, and now she’s alone. Again.

“Do you want to join us, Charlie?” I ask.

“Thanks, but no. I’ve got a list of people I need to connect with before the event is over, and Pia has ideas about how we can uplift our Silver Leaf winter promotional strategies. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy, so you go have fun.”

She seems to mean it, but still I ask, “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She sips from her wineglass as if to prove she’s having a good time. “I’ll join you later.”

I allow Beau to spin me out onto the dance floor, where my family and a crowd of guests enjoy the almost-modern tunes played by the band. Ollie spots us instantly. He skids over on his white-sneakered feet and takes my hand, then Beau’s.

“This is the best party ever!” he says, twisting to the music.

The three of us laugh and dance for the next couple of tracks, and my heart almost bursts with how happy it makes me. Beau loosens up, leaning into the music and mirroring Ollie’s more questionable dance moves. Izzy glides over, showing us how high she can make her tutu twirl with a quick spin on her heel, which draws Dylan and Poppy into our orbit.

“Mind if we cut in?” Poppy says at Beau’s shoulder.

He makes room for her by his side, and even takes her hand to spin her gently under one arm. Dylan slips into our circle on my other side, then collects me in a dancing embrace. Ollie and Izzy are having the time of their lives dancing next to Finn and Rosie now, even if every few seconds, Ollie stops to gaze up at the blonde starlet, brows high like he can’t believe this is his life.

“Thank you,” I say to Dylan.

His smile turns puzzled. “What for?”

“Making an effort with Beau.”

He casts a look over his shoulder, where Beau and Poppy dance together, Dylan’s wife laughing as Beau spins her around, then dips her low.

“If you say he’s a good guy, I believe you,” Dylan tells me, then adds firmly, “Until he proves otherwise. I mean it. One wrong move, and you’ll have a hard time convincing us to give the guy another chance.”

“I get it,” I say. “But I’m not worried. This is it, Dylan. I can feel it.”

His smile is a little wistful. “It’s good to see you happy, Daze.”

A flicker of vulnerability trips my heart, and my smile falters. “I’m always happy.”

My brother takes a deep breath as he shakes his head. “No. Seeing you with Beau makes me realize you aren’t, or at least you haven’t been this entire year you’ve been home. Not really. But now? You shine from the inside again.”

My throat feels thick, and I blink back tears. “Thank you.”

His smile is more genuine. “You’re welcome.”

The music is good enough to keep us on the floor while I dance with each of my brothers. Charlie joins us, and our family dominates the space with a tight circle of basic moves and extravagant energy. The wine probably doesn’t hurt, and with a gentle buzz, even the news about Spencer Cook isn’t enough to dim Chord’s mood for long.

I can’t remember the last time we were all together like this, laughing and easy with each other and having a good time.

Beau finds his way to me and slips his arms around my waist.

“Are you having fun?” he asks.

“So much,” I reply. “What about you?”

“It’s better than I thought it would be,” he admits.

“I’m glad,” I say. “And maybe a little more hopeful?”

He turns me against him and holds me close. “One party isn’t going to solve all our problems, Darlin’.”

“It doesn’t have to.” I let my fingers play at the edges of his hair at the back of his neck. “It just has to put us on the path to a better future.”

“And you think we’ve done that?”

“You know what?” I glance around at my family and feel the answer in my bones. “I really think we have.”

thirty-one

Beau

The party was supposed to end at sunset, but two hours after dark, Chord’s Fury teammates are only now making their way to the team bus. I sit nearby, Daisy’s family around me and my girl tucked under my arm. Our table is littered with half-filled wine bottles, empty snifters of brandy, and platters of leftover canapes. The band left long ago, but music drifts from a phone propped against the glass vase in the center of the table. Curled up on the floor out of the way, on a makeshift bed of seat cushions and tablecloths, Ollie and Izzy sleep like puppies.

Conversation hums around me as I watch Chord’s coach try to wrangle twenty-odd burly, boozed-up athletes out the door.

It reminds me of a sitcom, with nobody listening to the increasingly red-faced and frustrated father figure attempting to corral his wayward sons. Although most are now waiting on the bus to go back to San Francisco, the team’s first line loiters at the door to the restaurant, their goodbyes to Chord going round in circles.

“See you, man,” says Hayden, the team’s left winger. He offers his hand to Chord for the third time and pulls him in for a man-hug. “Next season won’t be the same without you.”

“Definitely won’t be the same with Cook as captain,” grumbles Jake, their center.

Chord’s jaw clenches, but then his shoulders roll back and he’s instantly a leader, not another pissed-off player. “You boys didn’t like me either when I joined the team.”

Breaker snorts. “You mean, you didn’t like us.”

Chord smiles. A real one. “Either way, we figured it out. Cook’s a dick, and he wouldn’t be my choice”—Chord’s eyes flit to his coach, then away again—“but he’s what you’ve got, and I have faith that you’ll find a way to win games no matter who’s leading you.”

“Fuck, yeah, we’ll win.” That’s Theo, a young defenseman, and Jake gives him an enthusiastic high-five.

“Just take care in the preseason,” Chord reminds them. “Rest. Relax. Stay fit. Stay out of trouble. I can’t wait to see you take out the first game.”

Coach gives Chord a nod of appreciation, and finally, with the help of West—a goalie who’s a little older and a lot less drunk than the rest of them—the Fury is finally out the door.

“It’s weird to think he won’t be playing hockey anymore,” Daisy murmurs at my side. She rests her head on my shoulder. “It must be scary giving up a career you love so much. Chord’s played hockey since he was eighteen—half his life. His entire adulthood. And now what? He’s starting over again.”

I didn’t realize we’d both been observing the team’s interaction, but her focus is on the hockey players, same as mine.

“Not all over again,” I say with a glance around the table.

Dylan and Poppy. Finn and Rosie. Charlie and Violet. Now Chord, taking a seat next to his fiancée, everyone laughing at jokes no one else would find funny, eating though nobody could possibly still be hungry, pouring more wine though everyone insists they’ve had enough.

“He’s got this.” I brush a lock of hair away from Daisy’s face. “He’s got you.”

Her smile is dreamy as she appreciates her family with a sweeping look.

“Today wasn’t too bad, was it?” she asks. “You had fun, didn’t you?”

I tighten my arm around her, caressing the soft skin of her bare arm. “I didn’t think I would,” I confess. “But I did.”

“I’m glad.” She sighs and sinks against me. “What was the highlight?”

I pointedly run my gaze over her body, then cock an eyebrow and put my lips to her ear.

“The way you look in that dress. It looks like it’ll slide off you like cream. One quick pull on these pretty ribbons back here”—I pretend to tug on the fastenings keeping her dress looped around her neck—“and you’d be naked, Darlin’.”

Her cheeks flush, and her focus falls to my mouth as she bites her bottom lip. “This whole living apart thing is getting to be a problem,” she murmurs.

“This having a ten-year-old kid thing is getting to be… an obstacle.”

Her mouth tips up and her eyes sparkle. I love that she accepts Ollie as part of my life—our life. Not a problem to be solved, but a child to be loved and raised. And outmaneuvered when the occasion calls for it.

“You got that right.” She snuggles in closer. “But seriously. What made this night so unexpectedly good?”

I look around the table again, then at Ollie sound asleep as if the floor of a noisy restaurant is an entirely safe space to let down his guard.

“This,” I say. “Watching the way y’all come together. How easy it is. How at ease y’all are. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What were parties like in your family?”

“Parties?” I snort quietly. “We didn’t throw parties.”

She’s quiet for a beat. “How did you celebrate special days? Birthdays. Anniversaries. Your high school graduation?”

“I don’t remember celebrating anything. Teachers at school might have done something when I was young, but by the time I was a teenager, birthdays were like any other day. My dad celebrated my graduation by packing my bags and giving me just enough money for a one-way bus ticket out of there.”

She sets a hand on my chest, fingers playing anxiously with one of the buttons. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

I shrug one shoulder. “I’m not. That bus ticket led to my first ranching job, which was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says. “It’s not too late for you and Ollie to have the family you both deserve.”

I press a firm kiss to her temple, but I don’t say anything. Her faith that this could be so easy is both naive and sweet, and I’d like to pretend for at least tonight that I believe it too.

“Hey, Daze,” says Poppy from across the table. Her cheeks are red from laughter, and beside her, Dylan’s shaking his head with an amused smile. “Remember that year we cut ourselves bangs?”

“Oh, my God.” Daisy groans with good humor. “Don’t remind me.”

Poppy cackles again, and Charlie hides her smile behind her wineglass.

“What happened?” I ask.

Dylan grins hard. “They must have been about seven or eight years old, and our baby sister pilfered the kitchen scissors, locked herself in the bathroom, and cut off half a head of hair. Those bangs started on the crown of her head!”

Charlie spits out her drink trying not to laugh, and the table erupts in a round of chuckles.

“Shut up!” Daisy laughs.

“Sounds… fetching,” I tease her.

She rolls her eyes. “Best part was convincing Poppy to do it as well so I wouldn’t be the only oddball going back to school that fall.”

I grin at Poppy. “And did you?”

Poppy covers her face with her hands. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she mumbles into her palms.

“You were being a good friend.” Daisy throws a balled-up napkin at her, and Poppy lifts her head. “And I appreciated it.”

“Was that about the time you wanted to be a horse when you grew up?” Chord asks, face completely serious.

“You mean, she wanted to ride horses,” I correct him.

“Nope. She wanted to be a horse. A Palomino, wasn’t it, Daze?” Chord takes a canape from a nearby platter and stuffs it in his mouth, eyes alight with humor.

“Ha ha,” she retorts. “So funny.”

“What about you, Beau?” Rosie asks. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

Everyone’s quiet, waiting for the answer, and I’m surprised at how it makes me feel included instead of scrutinized.

“I never gave it much thought,” I admit. “Just happy, I guess.”

Finn nods with a thoughtful frown, and Rosie asks, “And horses make you happy?”

“Sure do.” I glance at Daisy under my arm, then Ollie across the room. “Among other things.”

Daisy smiles. “Good answer.”

I don’t care that her family’s watching. I lean in and kiss her.

The conversation moves on from there, and I relax into it. I laugh at stories about the Davenports’ childhoods and answer questions when I’m asked, though as the night wears on, they become few and far between. Daisy and her siblings are enjoying each other too much, and I know it’s not just me, because Violet and Rosie sit back too, with fond reflection in their expressions as Chord, Charlie, Finn, Dylan, Daisy, and Poppy share story after story of their lives growing up at Silver Leaf ranch.

The tales aren’t always happy ones. There are tears when they talk about their parents. There are eye rolls and grimaces when the conversation touches on sensitive subjects, but it just makes the joyful moments more real. This family isn’t perfect, but they’re here. They like each other, which isn’t always the case with the people you’re supposed to love. And tonight, they asked me to sit at their table.

I’m absently brushing Daisy’s arm, listening with half an ear to the voices around me, when she leans in and whispers, “Meet me in the bathroom.”

She stands and crosses the room, her smooth back beckoning me, her bare feet underneath the couture gown making me smile as she disappears into the corridor.

I glance around, hoping it’s not too obvious, then get up and follow.

The door to the bathroom is ajar, and I push it open just enough to peek inside. “Hey, Darlin’. You in here?”

She reaches around the door, grabs a fistful of my shirt, and yanks me inside.

Her mouth is on mine before I find my bearings, but I quickly figure it out. I kiss her hard and fast, the rush of making out like kids making my blood hotter. She tastes like the vanilla frosting on the cake and the almost-empty bottle of Silver Leaf brandy, and I tease open her mouth, tongue lashing for more. She lifts her knee, and I hook it over my hip, shifting so my dick is pressed hard against the soft heat between her legs.

Daisy has her hands up my shirt and I’ve got mine twisted in the fabric of her dress when the door creaks open.

“Ahem,” says Poppy. “This is a respectable establishment, you know.”

I jump back, letting Daisy’s dress fall back into place. I’m half unbuttoned, and these linen pants do nothing to hide my arousal. I take a careful step to the side, putting Daisy between me and Poppy.

“Sorry,” I mumble, trying to neaten up.

“Yeah, sorry,” Daisy echoes, but she’s grinning from ear to ear and clearly not sorry.

“I came to tell you that the party’s breaking up,” Poppy says, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Izzy’s stirring, so Dylan and I are going to head up to the house.”

“Your timing is terrible,” Daisy jokes. “But thanks.”

Poppy purses her lips, taking in our disheveled state, then directs her attention to me.

“How do you feel about my taking Ollie tonight? It’ll give you two a chance to be alone.”

Daisy inhales excitedly, then turns to me. “What do you think?”

I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever fucking heard, if only it were that easy.

“I don’t know,” I say. “If he wakes in the night and I’m not there…”

Daisy sighs. “You’re right.”

“Well, the kids are already asleep,” Poppy says. “You could carry him over to the main house, make sure he’s settled, and I can have a little sleepover with both of them in the living room to make sure he’s comfortable if he wakes up?”

Daisy turns cautiously hopeful eyes on me, but still I hesitate.

“I’ll call you if there’s anything to worry about,” Poppy offers. “You can come get him if he wants to go home. But honestly? He’s spent enough time with us at the house that I think he’ll be okay.”

Daisy slips her hand into mine and presses her breasts against my arm, which I’m certain is no accident. “It’s up to you,” she says.

I make a bargain with myself. If I can get Ollie from the restaurant to the house without any problem, and then settle him in bed without any reason to worry, chances are that he’ll keep sleeping until morning. If I can check those boxes, I’ll take Poppy up on her offer.

I must have done something right today, because Ollie barely wakes as I carry him from the restaurant to the family house and then arrange him under a blanket on the sofa. He’s still sleeping when Dylan does the same with Izzy on the opposite couch. Poppy gives me a reassuring smile as she ushers Daisy and me out the back door with a gentle but determined push.

“Have a good night,” she says with a goofy grin as she firmly shuts the door on us.

Then we’re out on the porch, just the two of us, with the entire night to ourselves. And if I’ve learned anything in this life, it’s to take the wins when they come.

Daisy bolts from my truck to the front door. I chase her, heart racing, loving the way her dress flutters around her legs and her skin gleams in the moonlight. I give her a minute to get the door open, but as soon as we’re inside, I spin her around and kick the door closed. My mouth is on her before she has a chance to switch on a light.

This fucking dress has tormented me all night, her butterscotch hair swept up like that and the smooth length of her back on display. Spinning her again and putting her ass to me, I pin her wrist against the wall over her head. I dust kisses along her neck, fingertips brushing the dip of her spine, then curling round her hip, and I smile against her shoulder as her skin erupts in goose bumps.

“I’ve been imagining this for hours,” I murmur, the words pushing her into a full-body shiver. I pull the delicate ribbons at her neck, and her dress falls to the floor, a puddle of lavender silk around her ankles. It leaves her naked. Fucking naked.

“You aren’t wearing any underwear,” I growl as I flick my tongue over her earlobe.

“No,” she agrees in a shaky whisper.

“Have you been bare under this dress all day?”

“Yes,” she pants. “All day and all night.”

I groan and rest my head against her shoulder, dick throbbing at the visions she’s put in my head, wishing I’d known this earlier and so fucking thankful I didn’t.

“You’re going to kill me, Darlin’. I don’t know whether to punish you or praise you.”

She looks back at me, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “Why not do both?”

“Good girl,” I murmur as I guide her to step out of the dress and spread her legs. I smack her ass hard enough to make her gasp, then rub my palm over the red handprint before I fall to my knees.

The moment my tongue touches her pussy, I moan at the taste of her. How many nights did I dream of this? How many mornings did I wake up believing I’d never have her again? She’s soaked and sweet, and I lick and suck until her thighs are trembling and my mustache is drenched with her orgasm.

“Oh, my God,” she gasps, bracing herself against the wall.

Grinning, I climb to my feet, then slide my hand around her neck to feel the satisfying throb of her speeding pulse. “No, Darlin’. It’s just me.”

I lean over, set my mouth to her ear, and skate a hand up her side, following the curve of her ribs to the swell of her breast, cupping and tugging on one furled nipple.

“Do we finish this here?” I whisper. “Or in the bedroom?”

“Here,” she replies breathlessly. “Now.”

I set a hand between her shoulder blades, thumb sweeping through the sheen of sweat as I fold her forward, and she sets her hands flat against the wall. I step closer, my throbbing dick tenting my linen pants. I make sure she feels it between her ass cheeks, and she moans, lifting her hips higher and putting her swollen pussy on display.

A line of perspiration breaks out on my brow and my balls tighten. “That’s it. Spread your legs for me, Darlin’.” I swipe my fingers through her wetness. “Never let me forget how pretty you are.”

I strip off my shirt and pull a rubber from my pocket before tearing at my waistband. Then I slide my trousers and underwear down my legs. I give my cock a single stroke, roll on the condom, then line up with her entrance. She’s wet and pulsing, and I set a hand on her shoulder to keep her anchored.

I slide home in one smooth, easy thrust. Daisy gasps and groans, her hips beginning to rock. I snake my other hand around to massage her clit. She grinds against me, and I move my grip from her shoulder to her hip to keep her hard against me, my cock seated as deep as I can go.

“Fuck, this is everything,” I grunt. “You’re everything. This pussy is everything. How the fuck did I ever think I could live without you?”

“I—don’t—know,” she says, body jerking with the smack of my thighs against her ass. “I needed this, Beau. I need you.”

Her pussy is tight and hot around me, and I slam her onto my dick over and over. I watch the wet mess between us, mesmerized by the slippery suck of her pussy as I disappear inside her, heat and pressure coiling at the base of my spine.

“I love you,” I tell her, out of my mind with pleasure and adoration. “I love you, Darlin’. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too,” she says between breaths.

As she starts to flutter around me, I moan and fold over, wrap an arm around her waist, and piston into her like a fucking madman.

She cries out when her orgasm arrives, and as her body contracts, I let myself fall over the edge with her, spilling and thrusting and losing my mind with how fucking perfect this feels.

I come down from the high with my mouth on her back, raining kisses across the damp curve of her neck, before carefully extracting myself. “You okay, Darlin’?”

“I think so.” She straightens, one hand braced against the wall, breaths coming in shallow pants. “But I’m not sure I can walk.”

I quickly tie off the condom, kick off my shoes and trousers, then sweep her up into my arms. With quivering thighs, I carry her to the ensuite bath, carefully set her down, and start the shower.

“Take your time,” I tell her. “I’ll get us something to drink.”

“Sometimes I forget how well you know me.” She offers me her mouth, and I kiss her, letting it deepen until my dick starts to harden again. She feels it and whimpers, and I give her a love tap on the ass. The red mark from earlier has already faded.

“There’s no rush,” I tell her. “We’ve got all night.”

Daisy sighs as she steps under the spray, and I linger for a moment, watching the water spill down her body, trickling down her breasts, glistening over her hips, and then disappearing between her thighs.

She twists under the water, reaching for the body wash. “You want to join me?”

I consider it, then shake my head. Give this woman the chance and she’ll stand for hours under a hard spray of water hot enough to kill a man. I know she wants to get clean as much, if not more, than getting railed against the wet tiles.

“I’ll be back,” I tell her. “Consider this intermission.”

I return to the hallway and clean up the discarded birth control, then scoop up our clothes and take them to the laundry room. Everything probably needs to be professionally cleaned, so I lay out each item and hope Violet won’t be disappointed by how crushed everything looks. At this point, I’m naked without a change of clothes, so I slip my underwear back on, then raid the kitchen for wine, fruit, and chocolate.

I’ve got everything arranged on the bed by the time Daisy emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. She’s in a sexy, short silk wrap, and her hair is a tangled wet mess down her back. There’s a dreamy look of contentment on her face, which is now washed clean from today’s heavy makeup. She was breathtaking today, easily the most beautiful woman in the room, but the way she looks now makes my heart race even faster.

“Feel better?” I ask.

“I feel amazing.” She hands me her hairbrush. “Do you mind?”

“Have I ever?”

She kisses me, then drops onto the edge of the mattress. As she helps herself to a strawberry and then a glass of white wine, I gently move the bristles through her hair. It smells like almonds and vanilla.

“I was thinking,” she says as she picks at the fruit plate, “after everything went so well tonight, that tomorrow might be a good time to talk to Charlie about the glamping tours and handing stable operations over to you.”

My stomach lurches, and the brush stops mid-stroke before I remember to keep it moving. “Tonight was fun, but is it too soon to test things?”

“I don’t think so. We should take advantage of the good vibes, and anyway, Duke’s expecting you in Kismet Creek soon. We don’t have time to wait.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“And I didn’t tell you the best part. I spoke to Chord about everything, and I think I’ve swayed him to our side. Even if Charlie isn’t thrilled with my ideas, Chord will talk her around.”

“Are you serious?”

I don’t mean to sound harsh, but my tone finally alerts her to the fact that I’m not as confident about this plan as she is. She spins to face me.

“Yes, I’m serious. Why?”

“I don’t want to be the catalyst for an argument between you and Charlie, or Charlie and Chord.”

“You won’t be.” Daisy frowns. “Asking Chord to back me up is just that—a back-up plan. And nominating you to take over operations makes sense. Charlie’s smart. She’ll see that eventually.”

I try to gather my thoughts. Staying at Silver Leaf, managing the stable, being promoted to a job because my girlfriend gives it to me—it feels uncomfortably like cheating. Will Daisy’s family think I’m taking advantage? Claiming something that doesn’t belong to me? Coasting along? Grifting?

The Davenports have just started to warm to me. I don’t want impatience to be the reason things blow up all over again.

Daisy removes the brush from my fingers, then takes my hands in hers. “We want to build a life together, right?”

I focus on her instead of the thoughts in my head. “Right.”

“And we’re in this forever, right?”

“Right.”

“So believe me when I say this is the way to do it. Families are funny sometimes. We disagree. We argue. We go through rough patches, but we always fix it in the end. And, in the end, the bonds between us are stronger.”

“Well, you’d know about that better than I do,” I tell her.

Her smile is soft but determined. “You have to trust me.”

She crawls into my lap and snakes her arms around my neck, then kisses me. It’s soft but determined too.

“I want to take care of you,” I tell her, resting my forehead against hers. “Giving me this job feels like you’re taking care of me.”

“Beau?” She draws back just enough to look into my eyes, and she’s so sincere I can’t look away. “I think it’s time we took care of each other.”

thirty-two

Daisy

My bedroom is lit by the pearly glow of the predawn sky, but I’m already awake and riding… my boyfriend’s truly spectacular mustache.

Beneath me, Beau moans and squeezes my ass as I grind into his mouth, slippery and swollen, on the verge of another explosive orgasm. I arch my back and latch onto his arms, clawing the muscle as pleasure floods me.

I collapse beside him as all feel-good chemicals leave me soft and happy. Beau rolls onto his side, props himself up on one elbow, and grins down at me.

“Admit it,” he says.

I sigh and stretch with satisfaction. “Admit what?”

“You like the mustache. All this time, pretending you hate it when you were dreaming about riding it until you came all over it.”

“You think the ride is worth my having to look at that thing on your lip all day?” I twist my fingers into his hair hard enough to bite. “You’re so cocky, do you know that?”

Beau grins harder. “By the way you just screamed my name, Darlin’, I’ve got good reason to be.”

I try not to smile. “Well, I can’t confirm your theory until I’ve collected more evidence.”

“And I’m only too happy to provide it.”

He nuzzles into the crook of my neck, kissing every inch of skin he can reach, and I sigh with replete exhaustion. We’ve only slept two or three hours, too busy making the most of our alone time. Finally.

I reach a hand between us, searching for the hard length of his erection, and when my fingers wrap around it, he moans torturedly.

“We can’t,” he says, even with a thrust into my palm. “I want to be at the house before Ollie wakes.”

“Poppy will call if she needs us,” I murmur as I nibble his earlobe. “Just a few more minutes.”

“You’re insatiable.” He flips me onto my back and opens my thighs with a nudge of his hips.

I inhale sharply as the tip of him slips inside. We’ve had so much sex that I’m a little sore, but the sting is worth it when I’ve gone without for too long.

“I’m out of rubbers,” Beau says as he teases me with barely an inch of his cock.

“Just a little more.” I grab his ass and try to drive him home, but his strength keeps him hovering out of reach. “A few quick minutes. It won’t take long. I promise.”

When he still doesn’t budge, I bite my lip and flutter my eyelashes. “Please, sweetheart?”

His eyes roll back as he groans, and then he’s fucking me hard. The feel of him bare is beautiful and familiar, and he bottoms out before grinding down on my clit. The moment I come, pussy pulsing around him, he pulls out with a burdened cry and spills his release over my stomach.

Now it’s his turn to fall onto the mattress. He collapses face down on the pillow, his tight ass right there, begging to be bitten.

“That was way too risky,” he mutters as he rolls to face me.

“My period is due in a few days. We’re way outside the fertility window.”

He sits up, brow furrowed. “Have you been taking the magnesium supplements I bought you? Drinking enough water?”

“You know what? I think sex is a good way to prevent migraines. All the endorphins or oxytocin or whatever. I’ll be okay this month.”

“Nice way to not answer my questions,” he grumbles as he plucks tissues from the bedside table and wipes his mess from my skin.

I roll my eyes. “I’m taking care of myself; and I’ve started birth control again to help with the hormones. But you’re right about one thing. We should get moving, or we’ll miss family breakfast.”

His brows draw in. “There’s a breakfast?”

“Just pancakes at the house. Nothing special.”

“I’ve got no clothes.”

“Oh. Right. Well, let’s hurry so we can go past your place for something to wear.”

It still takes forty-five minutes to shower, pick up a change of clothes for Beau and for Ollie, then drive round to the main house. Beau pulls his truck up around back, and we let ourselves in through the kitchen.

The place is already buzzing. Dylan and Poppy are in the kitchen. Chord, Violet, Finn, and Rosie are seated with the kids around the table. Music plays from Mom’s old radio on the windowsill, and the house smells like coffee and sugar and bacon.

“Uncle Beau!” Ollie jumps up from his stack of syrupy pancakes and skids to a halt in front of us. “You’ve got to try these. They’re so yummy.”

“Good thing I’m starving,” Beau says.

“I bet you are,” Poppy quips.

Finn groans like he wishes he hadn’t heard that, and Beau chokes on nothing, thumping his chest to clear it. Poppy and I chuckle as I pull her in for a hug.

“Thanks for last night,” I say. “It was so worth it.”

“And your brothers don’t need to hear about it.” Dylan gently hip-checks his wife as he hands Beau and me a couple of plates loaded with pancakes. “Take a seat, you two. I’ll pour you some coffee.” He catches Beau’s eye. “How do you like it, bro?”

Beau blinks but recovers quickly. “Strong and hot?”

Dylan swipes up a mug. “You got it.”

There’s an empty seat next to Ollie, which Beau slides onto, and I set down my plate at an open chair opposite. Violet is on one side, and I hug her to say good morning. Rosie, at the other end of the table, gets a kiss blown across the way.

“Hey,” I say, scanning the faces around the table again. “Where’s Charlie?”

“I’m in here!” she calls from the living room.

“Being anti-social!” Finn shouts back.

“Just five more minutes!”

Finn huffs. “You said that fifteen minutes ago!”

I snatch a slice of melon off a giant fruit platter, then gratefully accept a cup of coffee from Poppy. “I’ll be back in a second,” I say to Beau. “Will you be all right?”

“He’ll be fine,” Chord says.

Beau looks at my brother a little cautiously, then lifts a brow at me. “You heard him. I’ll be fine.”

I can’t keep the relief and joy off my face. “Have fun!”

I wind my way through people and chairs to get to the living room, where Charlie’s hunched over her laptop, the kids’ pillows and blankets in piles around her.

I drop down beside her and offer her my cup. “What’s so important it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

She takes a gulp of coffee and hands it back. “It’s just business stuff. You know how it is. It never ends, and if I don’t do a little something every morning to stay on top of it, my to-do list gets away from me. I can’t relax until I’ve cleared my inbox, at least.”

“Business administration is relentless,” I agree.

She snorts. “I told you. If you need advice on how to manage things, let me know. We can set up a session to go over things next week.”

“Well, about that…”

Charlie pauses mid-keystroke, then turns her head slowly, her confusion disappearing as understanding dawns. “Oh, no. No, no, no. You’re not quitting on me already.”

“I don’t want to quit,” I tell her. “I want to reorganize.”

“Reorganize?” She straightens a little, her tone sounding annoyed. “Reorganize what?”

“Stable operations. The trail rides. Our tourism portfolio.”

“Our tourism portfolio.” She stares in puzzlement for a long moment, like she’s trying to figure out who I am. “What are you talking about? You promised me you’d stick with this. I’ve refocused this summer. I’ve made plans to put Silver Leaf on the map. Plans that’ll finally let me use the college degree that’s been gathering dust. I don’t have the time to pick up your slack.”

“But you wouldn’t have to. That’s what’s so great. I’ve already worked it all out.”

Charlie shifts toward me and crosses her arms. “What have you figured out exactly?”

Her attitude isn’t enough to deter me, even with my stomach twisting the way it is. I knew she’d react badly, which is why I picked this morning to broach the subject. At first, I thought it made sense to pitch it like a business proposal, the way I did at the start of summer, but the more I thought about it, the more I felt it should go to a family vote after all. It’s what we did for Violet’s design studio, and Poppy’s beauty salon, and the renovations for Finn and Rosie’s cabin. What I want for my future isn’t strictly a business decision, it’s a family one.

What happens next shouldn’t be up to Charlie alone.

“Well, you know we always talked about glamping?” I ask.

Charlie hums and narrows her eyes. I take it as encouragement.

“Right,” I say. “Glamping. Overnight camping tours. Expanded trail rides. That’s what I want to do for Silver Leaf. That’s how I want to make this place stand out. You were right, Charlie. I’m no good at the paperwork. I hate the administrative work. I’m suited to being out in the air and under the stars.”

Charlie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. “And who would run everything, Daze? How do I let you ride horses all day and still get the bills paid?”

“Beau would do it.”

Her brows shoot upward. “Beau?”

“He’s got the skills and the experience. He loves it here, and so does Ollie. Beau would be our new stable and operations manager.”

Charlie stares at me, her face so unreadable that the knots in my stomach become impossible to ignore.

“Say something,” I say.

Her blue eyes harden. “Two months ago, the guy walked onto this ranch and you wanted to toss him right out again. You hated him. He has a job to go to in Kismet Creek in less than two weeks, and now you want to make him our stable manager?”

“I was wrong about Beau,” I explain, “and we’ve fixed it now. Everything’s okay.”

“So you were wrong about Beau.” She tosses her head. “Then you were wrong about managing the stable yourself. What makes you think you’re not wrong about this? The overnight rides and the glamping tours and putting Beau in charge of one of our most important tourist attractions?”

My spine straightens, and my blood rushes with indignation. “I’m not wrong. I can feel it.”

“Ah.” Her answering nod is overstated to the point of offensive. “You can feel it.”

“What is wrong with you?” I demand. “I understand this is disappointing, and I know you put your faith in me, but I’ve been doing the job well even though I hate it. I can admit that I was short-sighted before. I was confused and hurt, and my thoughts were all spun around. But my head’s on straight now. I know what I want.”

Charlie clenches her jaw and returns to her laptop. “I’m going to have to think about it,” she says, refusing to look at me. And that’s not good enough.

“Why?” I push.

Her head jerks up. “What do you mean, why? For all the reasons I gave you. Because I’m Silver Leaf CEO.”

“Let’s put it to a vote,” I say.

“No. This is a management decision, not a family one.”

“I disagree. Let’s vote on it. This morning. Right now.”

“You’d put this to a vote with Beau at the table when there’s a chance everyone will vote no?”

“They won’t say no.”

She scoffs. “You’re awfully confident.”

“I talked to Chord about it, and he agreed my plan has merit.”

Charlie’s blue eyes grow cold, and her face pales. “You already spoke to Chord?”

I realize my mistake too late. “I mentioned it when I was convincing the boys to give Beau a break. It was right after family game night.”

Her throat bobs. “You’ve been plotting against me for weeks?”

“Plotting? No! I wanted his opinion.”

“Because now he’s not playing hockey, and he’s on the ranch permanently, our big brother’s opinion is more important than mine? What he says goes, and I have to deal with it?”

Charlie’s lashes flutter uncomfortably, and if I didn’t know her better, I’d think she was about to cry. My sister doesn’t cry.

“No!” I tell her. “I knew you’d be disappointed, and we’d end up arguing. I wanted someone to back me up.”

“You knew I’d hold you accountable for your decisions? That I’d expect you to honor your agreement? That I would tell you to do what you promised me you would do?”

I throw up my hands. “Oh, my God, Charlotte! I’m not giving up! I’m pitching an alternative.”

“Where’s the pitch?” She looks around theatrically. “Where are the numbers? Where are the projections? Where’s the business plan?”

I scowl. “I’m still working on it.”

“Fine. And when you have it, we can talk about it.”

“This can’t wait. Beau’s been offered a competitive opportunity at Emberfield, and I can’t ask him to turn it down if there isn’t something equally great for him here.”

Charlie stares at me, her blue eyes cool. “When are you going to grow up?”

I don’t realize how quiet the house has become until Beau walks into the room. Ollie’s at his side, the boy’s small hand swamped by Beau’s fingers wrapped around it.

“Hey, Darlin’.” He tips his hat at my sister. “Charlie. Thanks for breakfast and all, but it’s time the two of us got going.”

I jump up, guilt and embarrassment flushing fast and hot to my hairline. “But we just got here.”

“I think we’ve stayed long enough.” Beau tugs on Ollie’s arm. “Say thank you to Charlie for having us.”

Ollie looks a little stunned. “Thank you, Charlie,” he says quietly.

“You’re welcome,” Charlie answers, following me to her feet, albeit it at a much slower speed. “Beau. This isn’t about you.”

“It’s fine.” His dark eyes are guarded but polite, and I don’t know why, but it breaks my heart. “You don’t need to explain.”

A knock sounds at the front door. Charlie hesitates, then hurries from the room to answer it.

I take a step toward Beau. “I’m sorry you heard that.”

“It’s fine,” he says shortly. “We can talk about it later.”

“Hello,” Charlie says in the hallway. “Can I help you?”

The voice that answers is gruff and masculine, but too low to make out.

“All right,” Charlie replies uncertainly. “Uh, come in.”

She returns to the living room with a line between her brows, and she turns to Beau. “There’s a gentleman here by the name of Wayne Covington. He says he’s your father?”

Beau’s head jerks up, and without thinking, I take a step toward him as an older man walks into the room. He’s not as tall as Beau, but he’s solid like him, and though his dark hair is gray and his face is lined, the resemblance is clear.

“Grandpa?” Ollie asks, confused. He takes a hesitant step forward, but Beau holds tight to his nephew’s hand and keeps him hard by his side.

“What are you doing here?” Beau asks flatly.

Wayne smirks a little, and I dislike him instantly.

“Came to see my grandson,” he says. “No law against it, is there?” He glances at Ollie, standing as tall as he can in his boots and his Stetson, and snorts quietly. “Nice hat.”

Ollie gazes up at Beau uncertainly. “Uncle Beau?”

Beau glares at his father for a second longer, then crouches down to Ollie’s eye level. “Go into the kitchen with Daisy and finish your breakfast. I need to talk to Grandpa for a few minutes. Okay?”

Ollie nods, and a silent look passes between me and Beau as he gives me Ollie’s hand. I take it, but something about this feels wrong. I’ve never seen Beau so cold or so tightly controlled, and the tension is on another level. My heart has never beat so erratically.

Beau strides across the room and out into the hall, refusing to acknowledge his father as he storms past the older man. Wayne huffs under his breath as he follows.

Charlie and I share our mutual concern in one fleeting look, our earlier argument completely forgotten.

“Can you take care of Ollie for me?” I ask. “I’m going to…”

I glance down at Beau’s nephew, who seems a lot younger, smaller, and more vulnerable than he has these last couple of months. “I’m going to make sure everything’s all right.”

“Sure.” Charlie takes Ollie’s other hand, but her mouth is tight, and I know she doesn’t want to let me leave. I nod my thanks and rush outside.

Beau and his dad have moved down the drive toward an old truck that must belong to Wayne.

“How did you know where we were?” Beau asks him as I approach.

“Sarah called,” Wayne says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Told us where to find you.”

“So she’s received my messages.” Beau barks a short laugh. “She could’ve replied once or twice.”

Wayne lifts one dismissive shoulder. “She’s busy, I guess.”

“Too busy to make sure her son is well?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Wayne says. “To check on the kid. See if he’d be better off with me and your mother.”

Beau’s hands ball into fists. “Like hell you are.”

I set a soothing hand on his arm. “Beau? Would you introduce me, please?”

Wayne’s eyes slide over my body, and I wish they’d slide off again. They’re so much like Beau’s, the shape and the color, which makes the way he leers more disgusting.

Beau narrows his eyes at his father. “Daisy—this is Wayne. Dad, this is my girlfriend, Daisy.”

Wayne doesn’t try to hide the way he looks me up and down. He appears to take pleasure in being a lech. “You’re a pretty one, aren’t you?”

Sour disgust rises in my throat, and with one small step, Beau positions himself between me and his father.

“You can’t have Ollie,” Beau says. “He likes it here, and you can tell Sarah I said so. Better yet, you can tell her to call sometime and find out for herself.”

Wayne grins and shakes his head, but his eyes are angry. “What makes you think you’ve got more of a right to that boy than I do?”

“A signed childcare agreement,” Beau replies.

Beau’s father blinks. “A what?”

“You heard me. Sarah signed power of attorney to me, which means Ollie stays here.”

Beau’s fingers brush mine, and I realize he’s searching for my hand. I slip my fingers into his, and he squeezes tight.

Wayne notices and cocks his head. “Seems like maybe that agreement isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.”

“You want to call the cops and find out?” Beau challenges. The pulse in his wrist races, and I brush my thumb along it in silent support.

The older man hesitates, then scoffs. “I don’t need the hassle of a boy to take care of.” He spits onto the ground. “I’ve raised my kids. Got no desire to go through that shit again, and for what? No thank-yous? No respect? Just grown kids who up and leave when they can finally help put food on the table. Cover the cost of gas.” He squints at Beau. “Help pay their mother’s medical bills.”

Beau’s jaw clenches. “Mom’s sick?”

“In a way.” Wayne scrutinizes his son’s face. “She’s got an addiction, you know. And that’s a sickness.”

“Yeah.” Beau holds my hand tighter. “I know.”

My stomach is tied in nauseating knots, and every hair on my body stands on end when the door to the house opens again. I look back to see my brothers striding over. Part of me knows their interference will make things worse. The other, larger part of me feels safer with them here.

Wayne notices them too, and he gives us an arrogant lift of his chin.

“Nice little arrangement you’ve got yourself here,” he says to Beau. He looks around at the property with a pointed air. “A ranch in California. A vineyard. Saw a picture on the news of the fancy-ass party you had here. Rubbing shoulders with rich hockey players and pop stars like Rosalie Thorne.”

Behind me, gravel crunches under someone’s boot, but I don’t have to look to know my brothers are holding back Finn right now. The way Wayne says Rosie’s name is loaded enough to make me shudder, and Beau is extra tense at my side. My ex-SEAL brother would be seeing danger signs everywhere.

It seems to be the reaction Wayne was hoping for because he grins. “I need a few dollars,” he says. “Just a little extra money to get your mother through this rough patch.”

Beau’s jaw clenches tight enough I hear it crack. “I only work here, Dad,” he says. “I’m on a wage like everyone else. And I’ve got a boy to raise. I don’t have any money to give you.”

Wayne’s eyes flicker to me, then my brothers, then over the house behind us, toward the farm fields and rows of vines and the cellar door in the distance. “You sure about that, Son?”

Beau inhales, eyes hot and nostrils flared, then drops my hand and crosses the few paces between him and Wayne. My heart jumps to my throat as I shadow him. So do my brothers.

But Beau just pulls out his wallet, extracts a handful of hundred-dollar bills, and smashes them against Wayne’s chest. “That’s it. That’s all I got. Take it and go.”

Wayne whistles and accepts the money, flicking through the notes before tucking them into his back pocket.

“You see?” he says. “Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

Beau leans into him. “Get—the fuck—out of here.”

“Without seeing my grandson?” Wayne’s eyes land on me, then on my brothers behind me. “Without so much as a coffee and a conversation with these fine gentlemen?”

“Get off this property,” Beau says, low and ominous, “before I drag you off.”

Wayne stares down his son, the most repulsive smirk on his mouth, and then he laughs. “This about the girl?” he asks. “You playin’ all big and tough to impress your woman?”

Wayne’s focus flickers to me and away again, and then he leans in to talk to his son.

“Enjoy the high life while you can, you selfish little prick, because it’ll all be over soon. Sooner or later, these people are going to figure out you’re not good enough for them or for this.”

“Leave,” Beau says again, eyes dark and neck corded with rage. “Now.”

“You think I’m wrong?” Wayne chuckles and moves closer, and it’s all I can do not to draw back with repulsion. “I’m never wrong, and I’m certainly never wrong about you.”

He looks at me again, and something evil lights his eyes as he turns back to Beau.

“The only way you’ll still be here in a month is if you find a way to make this girl believe you’re worth something,” he says gleefully, “and here’s the part you’re not going to like. Any woman who thinks a Covington boy is worth something can’t be worth all that much herself.”

Beau shakes me off, grabs his father by the collar of his shirt, and slams him against the side of his truck. I gasp, and my brothers close in, but I throw out an arm to hold them back.

“This woman is everything,” Beau yells. “Everything. I know what she’s worth, and I know I’ll never be enough to match it, but I’ll spend every day for the rest of my fucking life earning the right to call her my wife. You keep her name off your fucking tongue.”

Wayne gets off on the violence, and he laughs raucously at Beau’s anger. “You want to punch me, don’t you, Son? You want to show me what it means to be a real man?”

Beau hesitates, his fists tightening in his father’s shirt, and Finn ignores my arm this time, pushing forward to lay a hand on Beau’s shoulder.

“No, old man, you got that backward,” Beau grits out, fingers still twisted in Wayne’s clothes, still pinning his body to the side of his vehicle. “You’d love to see me sink as low as you, but I won’t. And you know why?”

Wayne’s smile falters a little. “Why?”

Beau leans in. “Because you’re not worth it.”

Beau releases him with a shove and steps back. “Get out of here.”

“You heard him,” Chord says behind us. “Get off our property. Now.”

Finn doesn’t leave anything to chance. He opens the truck door and shoves Wayne through, then slams it behind him. My brothers are a wall of determination as Beau’s dad revs the engine and tears down the drive.

I cling to Beau’s arm, fingers pinching into his bicep as he stares after his father, the tension in the air giving way to an aftermath of relief and confusion.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

“I’m fine,” he says, staring off into the distance.

But his hands are shaking and he won’t look at me, and something about the way he says he’s fine tells me he’s not fine at all. Not by a long shot.

thirty-three

Beau

Daisy is waiting when I pull my truck around to the barn house two days later. She leaps to her feet, leaving her new porch swing rocking, and moves to the rail with her arms wrapped around her body.

I shift the truck into park, but when Ollie doesn’t remove his seat belt right away, I sit with him in the silence.

“You feeling okay, buddy?”

He looks at his lap and shrugs. “I’m fine.”

He’s been quiet the entire drive back from his appointment with Amy, and the psychologist said he barely spoke in their session. It gives me another reason to be pissed at my father, as if I needed it. It’s one thing to turn up out of nowhere and upend my life. It hurts enough as a grown man, replaying what he said, fighting the fury he provokes in me, the old feelings of worthlessness and grief. I hate that Ollie might be feeling the same way too.

“Do you have any questions after your session with Amy?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

“You can talk to me. You know that, right?”

He replies with a silent nod.

I sigh. “Okay. Let’s go inside. Maybe Daisy has some of that chocolate you like. What do you think?”

He shrugs again.

I slide out of the truck and round the hood, then help Ollie to the ground. He starts toward the house, and I swipe up his hat from inside the cab.

“Hey, buddy. You forgot this.”

Ollie gives it a dismissive glance and keeps walking.

Daisy’s gnawing her bottom lip as we approach, and her brow is lined with deep furrows. “Hey, cowboy,” she says. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he says.

Daisy looks at me quickly, then away again just as fast. “Well, that’s good to hear. Do you want to come in and have something to eat? Maybe sketch a little?”

Ollie hangs his head and scuffs the toes of his boots. “Sure.”

Daisy’s expression is loaded with unspoken questions I don’t know how to answer.

“We were just wondering if you have any chocolate,” I say instead. “You know, the kind with the wafers?”

“Sure do.” Daisy sets a hand on Ollie’s head. “And guess who’s here to see you?”

Ollie blanches a little, and my heart skips. Is he frightened?

“Who?” he asks.

“Izzy,” Daisy replies. “She’s inside making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Why don’t you go through to the kitchen and help yourself to whatever you like? Your uncle and I will be right here.”

“Oh,” Ollie says with relief. “Okay.”

“I’m worried,” Daisy says as soon as Ollie disappears inside. “It’s been two days and he’s still not himself.”

I remove my hat and drop onto the porch swing. “I’m worried too.”

She sits beside me and takes my hand. “What can I do?”

“Nothing. I’ve talked to a lawyer about legalizing the guardianship arrangements, and in the meantime, the best thing I can do for Ollie is assure him that I’m not about to disappear. I can’t let him worry that my dad or his mom could show up unannounced and take him away. If they do challenge me for guardianship, he needs to know I’ll be in his life no matter what.”

“That makes sense.” Daisy presses herself against me, slipping her arm through mine, finding my fingers and threading hers into them.

I stare through the porch boards underneath my boots, unable to do anything but hold on. I’m reeling from my father’s visit, and I was on shaky ground before that. I wish I hadn’t heard Daisy’s breakfast conversation with Charlie, but I’m also grateful I did. It makes things so much harder—and that much clearer.

“The lawyer wants confirmation of my employment status,” I say, a lump rising in my throat.

“You have a job here,” she says. “You’re our stable manager.”

I give her a disbelieving look. “Daisy—”

“What? I just need to iron out a few details. I’ll have a contract for you in a couple of days.”

I disentangle my hand from hers and then slip my arm free too.

“The money I gave my dad,” I say quickly to try to minimize the shame. “It was the money I was saving to pay you back for Ollie’s clothes. It’ll take me a while to recoup the costs, but I’ll get it to you eventually. I promise.”

Her smile is unsure. “I’d forgotten all about that.”

“Yeah, well. I haven’t. And I’ll pay you back.”

“I know,” she says quietly.

I set my elbows on my thighs, push my hands into my hair, and try to order my thoughts. I don’t know what to do next. I don’t know what I’m doing at all, except that it has to be the right thing for Ollie.

“Your family doesn’t want me here,” I say, then cut her off when she tries to argue. “They don’t. They’re nice enough. Decent and polite because that’s the kind of people y’all are, but they don’t want me here. Charlie made that clear.”

“That was about me, not you,” she says. “Charlie’s mad because I’ve gone back on my word—”

“Because of me.” I sigh and take Daisy’s hands in mine. “I’m not giving up, and I’m not letting you go, but I have to be smart. I can’t prove myself a fit guardian for Ollie if I can’t hold a steady job, and if there’s even the slightest chance things will fall apart here, there’s too much at stake for me to risk it. You understand that, don’t you?”

She nods. “I do.”

“I need to do everything right if there’s a chance of convincing a judge to give me legal guardianship. You’ve met my dad. You know what the alternative could be, and I can’t let that happen. I’ll never forgive myself if I lose Ollie now.”

“I get it,” she says, hands tightening around mine. “But we can still make this work.”

I drink in her face, the line of her nose, the colors in her eyes, the full, soft lips I’ve kissed so many times. “I don’t know if I want to.”

She blinks, chin tucking like I’ve stunned her. “What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath. “I love you, and I don’t want to lose you, but I need to feel worth something. I need to make something of myself if I’m going to believe I’m good enough for you.”

“You are—”

“Darlin’. Stop. Look at where I come from. Look at the man who raised me. I need to earn something to believe I deserve it, and I didn’t earn the job here. If I stay, it’ll be because you convinced your family to do what you want them to do, not what they think is right for the ranch or the business. I don’t want to stay here feeling like a charity case, like I don’t belong and I don’t deserve my paycheck. But most importantly, I can’t raise a good man if I don’t feel like a good man myself.”

Daisy stares past me into the distance, then refocuses on my face with lines around her mouth. “You’re going to take the job at Emberfield.”

“I think I have to,” I say. “I can’t tell you how good it felt to have a stranger offer me a chance like that. For the first time in my life, I’ve got something to offer.”

“Charlie was a stranger when she offered you this job,” Daisy argues. “You’ve already earned your place here.”

“Maybe I earned my place mucking out stalls,” I agree, “but that’s it. And after what happened with my father showing up uninvited, giving your brothers a look at where I really come from? The trouble I cause?” I laugh bitterly. “They’re going to be waiting for any good reason to set me out on my ass.”

“That’s not true,” she says, voice cracking.

“Isn’t it?”

“No. I don’t work without you,” she says fiercely. “And you don’t work without me. There’s no way around that. Don’t pretend like there is.”

I gather her in my arms. “It’s not the end,” I tell her. “It’s just another detour.”

“Promise me you won’t make any decisions until I talk to Charlie again,” she demands, then scowls when I try to evade it. “Promise.”

“I’m calling Duke tomorrow,” I tell her. “That gives us twenty-four hours, but Darlin’, nothing short of a miracle is going to change things here.”

“Good thing I believe in miracles, then.”

I draw her to me and breathe in the scent of her hair, then spy Ollie and Izzy hovering near the doorway. They’re watching with expressions that feel too knowing for kids so young.

“Oh, hey, buddy.”

Daisy pushes off me, surprised to find we’re not alone.

“Hey, you two,” she says, swiping at her wet cheeks. “How long have you been there?”

Ollie shrugs. “Not long.”

“You want to join us on the swing?” Daisy offers, extending an arm to welcome them.

“No, thanks.” Ollie turns to Izzy, who gives him an encouraging nod. “Uncle Beau, can we go home now?”

“Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Daisy and I exchange a concerned glance before I push to my feet.

“All right,” I say. “Let’s get a move on.”

Ollie’s in the truck before I’ve even cleared the porch. Daisy walks down the drive with me, leaving Izzy climbing over the rails, then stops me before I open the driver’s side door.

“Don’t do anything rash,” she says. “There’s still a way we can make this work.”

I kiss her softly. “Twenty-four hours, Darlin’. I don’t want to start on the wrong foot with Duke, and the school year’s starting soon. If I need to make changes to Ollie’s enrollment, I can’t leave it to the last minute.”

I spare a glance for Ollie in the truck and feel the will to fight ebbing away. “And I need to talk to him about what happens next. The kid’s already been through enough, and my dad showing up has made things worse. I can’t pull the rug out from under him without as much time as possible to adjust. He’s a smart kid. I know he can tell something’s not right, but I can’t put his worries to rest until I know exactly what’s happening. He needs more certainty now, not less.”

Daisy nods slowly. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. Ollie has to come first. I’ll talk to Charlie first thing in the morning.”

I kiss her forehead to say goodbye. I can’t stop her from trying, but I don’t know that staying here with her family’s forced blessing is good for anyone. Families, even families as solid as this one, can break if the pressure is great enough. And I don’t much like the idea of being a compromise to make Daisy happy. Living the rest of my life as a stray everyone tolerates but can’t quite bring themselves to trust.

Ollie’s especially quiet on the short drive back to our cabin. Ryan and Marcus are picking up the slack in the stable so I can focus on Ollie, but I’m starting to think taking the afternoon off was a bad idea. Hard work would provide a distraction. Time with Pony Noir would give him comfort.

But if we have to say goodbye, some distance between Ollie and his favorite horse might be a good thing.

Ollie slips inside ahead of me as we enter the cabin that’s come to feel like home. The furniture is plain, and the plates in the cupboards and the towels in the linen closet aren’t ours. Not much will come with us when we go, but Ollie’s sketch pad and pencils are tumbled out across the kitchen table. His boots have a certain place by the door, and every night, his hat hangs on the wall next to mine. It’s a safe space that’s all ours.

“Hey, buddy,” I say, making my way to the kitchen to check the fridge. “Are you hungry? It’s hot dogs for dinner tonight. You like those, right?”

“I guess.” Ollie glances around the place, like he’s looking for something, then frowns. “Can I go to my room?”

“Sure.” I close the fridge and cross to him to set my palm on his forehead. “Are you sick?”

He ducks his head out from under my hand. “No. Just tired.”

I check the time. It’s only six o’clock. “It’s a little early for bed, and I’d like you to eat something first.”

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbles.

I frown and think fast. It doesn’t surprise me that the kid is tired. He’s been through an emotional wringer the last few days. I’ve got reason to worry about his appetite failing again, but the way I encouraged him to eat before was to make him feel comfortable and not force the issue. I can only hope that’s the way forward now.

“Okay, buddy. Let’s both have an early night, and in the morning, we’ll eat a big breakfast and make a fresh start. What do you say?”

He looks up at me with penetrating eyes. “What kind of fresh start?”

I blink at his question, then set a hand on his shoulder. “Is there something you want to ask me, Ollie?”

His eyes narrow briefly, then he shakes his head. “I just want to go to bed.”

“All right. Let’s get you in the shower.”

Ollie washes up and changes into his pajamas, and I make another offer of hot dogs with extra ketchup and mustard, but he’s not biting. I tuck him into his bed, and after a goodnight kiss on his forehead, he turns his back, curls into the covers, and presses his eyes as tight as they can go.

“Sleep well, little man,” I murmur from the doorway. “Things will be better in the morning.”

I pull the door almost closed and stare into the kitchen, trying to rally enough energy to make myself something to eat, but I can’t be bothered. I shower, I get into bed, and I close my eyes, hoping that tomorrow will deliver the answers we need.

thirty-four

Daisy

I’m on the porch just before sunrise, closing the door behind me and mentally revisiting the email I sent Charlie five minutes ago. I stayed up all night finishing my business plans for the glamping tours. Pages and pages of profit projections and cost estimates, capital investment reports and marketing plans. An entire proposal for Beau’s appointment to operations manager for the stable, with his years of experience and a long list of his skills set out in black and white so there’s no question he’s qualified. I’m talking to myself, rehearsing the in-person pitch I plan to make later this morning, when my phone rings. It’s Beau.

“Hey, you.” I put the device to my ear as I make my way over to the stable. “What couldn’t wait the twenty minutes before your shift starts?”

“Ollie’s missing,” he says, breathless. The sounds of boots falling on gravel, then a truck door slamming, float through in the background.

I freeze. “What?”

“He’s not in his bed. He’s not anywhere in the cabin. He’s nowhere nearby.”

Beau’s voice is pitchy with panic. I’ve never heard him panicked, and my heart lurches painfully. “I’m sure he’s not far.”

“His backpack is gone,” he says as his truck engine turns over. “So are his clothes. We had a few granola bars left, but they’re missing, along with two bottles of water and the flashlight. Fuck. Fuck. I knew something was wrong last night. Why didn’t I push him on it? Why?”

“This isn’t your fault,” I say as firmly as I can, but I’m choking on fear. “Maybe he’s up at the house?”

“Can you call someone?” he asks. “And it’s so fucking dark. He could be anywhere.”

“Where are you going now?” I ask.

“I was coming to you,” he says.

“Meet me at the house,” I tell him. “If he’s not there, we’ll start searching the property.”

The engine roars in the background.

“Beau?” I ask. “Are you there?”

“I’m here,” he says tightly. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

I throw myself behind the wheel of my truck, trying to ignore the way my heart races as I start the engine and dial Poppy’s number. She answers on the second ring.

“What is it?” she asks groggily. “What’s wrong?”

“Ollie’s run away,” I tell her. “Is he there? Please tell me he’s there.”

I hear her feet hit the floorboards. “I don’t know.” Her voice grows muffled as she says, “Dylan? Dylan! Wake up. Ollie’s missing.”

The sounds of bodies scrambling reach me through the line, people walking, then running, doors flying open. I guide my truck down the drive and onto the dirt trail to the house, concentrating with extra effort before terror takes over, waiting as Poppy carries me around the house on the phone, straining my ears for a sign that Ollie’s been there the whole time.

Finally, as I pull up to the house in a cloud of dust, warm yellow light spilling from every window in a way that feels wrong for this early in the morning, she says, “He’s not here.”

My chest tightens so hard and fast, I can’t catch my breath. “I’m outside,” I tell her. “I’m coming in.”

By the time I’ve unbuckled my seat belt and flung myself from the truck, Beau’s pulled up beside me.

“He’s not here,” I tell him.

His face is hard and pale, and I take his hand as I rush up the porch steps and through the back door. The kitchen is bright, and coffee has been poured, but Charlie, Dylan, and Poppy have all been clearly dragged from their beds, phones in hand as they pace the floorboards in their rumpled pajamas and mussed-up hair.

“What now?” I ask.

“Chord and Finn are on their way,” Dylan says as the back door flies open and Chord strides in with Violet at his side.

My oldest brother looks larger than usual, determined and focused. “Anything?” he asks.

“Not yet,” I reply.

Chord sets a heavy hand on Beau’s shoulder. “We’ll find him,” he says. “I promise.”

Beau swallows and gives him a short nod. “I appreciate that.”

Violet glides into the kitchen to pour coffee as Finn and Rosie arrive with Violet’s dad Luke close on their heels.

“We’ll get a search party started,” Finn says without preamble. “It’s almost light out, so we’ll start at the cabin and split into groups. Rosie, you stay here—”

“Absolutely not,” she says. “I’m pregnant, not incompetent. I can help, and I’m not sitting here while Ollie’s missing.”

Finn hesitates, then nods. “Fine. Anyone got a map of this place?”

“I do.” Charlie leaps up to retrieve a rolled-up piece of paper from the living room and hands it over to Finn with a couple of thick markers.

Finn cuts Silver Leaf into even wedges, with Beau and Ollie’s cabin at the center, then assigns us all a piece. He circles places that might make good hiding places for a little boy and notes areas where he can’t reach.

“Can he swim?” Finn asks Beau.

Beau’s jaw hardens and his eyes grow glassy. “I don’t know.”

Finn gives Beau a solid, supportive stare. “Let’s ask him when we find him, okay?”

Beau’s nod is sharp and terrified.

It doesn’t take long for everyone to lock into their tasks, adrenaline and fear fueling every word and every movement, and I’m grateful for the action even as my mind races with questions and worst-case scenarios.

“I’m calling the police,” Beau says as everyone sets out to leave. “I’m grateful for the help, I really am, but we need to find him, and this place is huge.”

“I know,” I reply. We don’t say out loud that calling the police might impact Beau’s guardianship suit, and my heart breaks that, even knowing it might jeopardize his chances, Beau’s willing to risk it to find his nephew.

I tip my head toward the living room. “Let’s make the call in here.”

The room is empty, and if it wasn’t for the way she squeaked on the stairs, I might not have noticed Izzy watching from behind the newel post. Our eyes meet, and she squeaks again, then scurries upstairs and away, her bedroom door slamming behind her.

A sinking kind of relief hits my stomach, and I grab a hold of Beau’s arm.

“I think Izzy knows something,” I tell him. “Give me three minutes to find out what before you call the police.”

Beau looks like he’s been hit by a bus, and he exhales loudly as he drags a hand down his face. “Hurry,” he says. “Please.”

I dart into the kitchen to collect Dylan first, then tug him through the living room and up the stairs.

“What?” he asks. “What is it?”

“Methinks your daughter might know what’s going on,” I explain as I hurry down the hallway. “And I need your help to wheedle it out of her.”

Dylan looks stunned at first, then disappointed, and at my brisk knock on Izzy’s bedroom door, he pushes it open and goes straight to her bed.

She’s under the covers with a pillow over her head.

“Izzy?” He sits beside her and lifts the pillow, then gently turns her around. “Do you know where Ollie is?”

She covers her face with her hands and shakes her head.

“Izzy?” I say, crouching down beside the bed. “You’re not in trouble, but if you don’t tell us where Ollie is, he might get himself into trouble. The kind of trouble that leads to danger, and if there isn’t a grown-up there to help, Ollie might get hurt. You understand, don’t you?”

Behind her little hands, she nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“You know how much I love you, right?” I ask, and she nods again. “That’s how much Beau loves Ollie. Beau is very sad now, because Ollie is the only family he has. Without each other, Beau and Ollie are all alone. It’s important we find a way to bring them back together.”

Dylan’s watching me, and when I meet his eyes, he drops his gaze with something that looks like guilt.

“Izzy?” I try to draw her hands away from her face. “I need you to do the right thing and tell us where we can find Ollie before something bad happens. Please?”

When she still won’t come out from behind her hands, Dylan steps in.

“Isobel. You’re not in trouble for helping Ollie run away, but you will be in trouble if you don’t help us find him. You make me so proud, Little Bee, because you always do the right thing. We’re asking you to do the right thing now.”

“But it was my idea,” she says, muffled between her fingers.

“What was your idea?” I ask hurriedly.

She lowers her hands, and her eyes are wide and frightened. “Ollie said he never wants to leave Silver Leaf, so I said he should hide until it’s safe to come out, and then he could move in with us.”

“Izzy?” I say slowly. “Where is Ollie hiding?”

She looks scared as she says, “In the stable. In the hayloft. All the way at the back where nobody can see him.”

I release a breath, but the worry isn’t entirely gone. “Thank you for telling me, Izzy.”

With a grateful glance at Dylan, I’m on my feet and bolting to the living room.

“He’s in the hayloft,” I shout as I rush past Beau, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Beau’s hot on my heels, and I fling myself into the passenger seat of his truck before he tears out of there. The drive to the stable takes less time than it should, and also forever. Beau doesn’t even cut the engine before he’s racing to get through the stable door, down the aisle, and up the ladder to the loft.

My legs are shorter, but that only makes me run harder, and Beau’s at the top of the ladder when I set my foot on the bottom rung.

“Ollie?” he calls, pacing to the closest nook and sticking his head around a stack of hay. “Hey, buddy. Where are you?”

I pause at the top of the ladder, watching to see if Beau has found Ollie’s hiding place at first look, but when he straightens and keeps searching, I dart to the far end of the space to help him search.

Thanks to the recent renovations, the loft is as open and airy as modern architecture and machinery could make it, with beamed, vaulted ceilings and a wide void looking down to the stalls below. That we have a hayloft at all is because we had one when I was a kid, and I liked the idea of keeping it to honor my mom. But a hayloft means dust, and no amount of technology can prevent that. So when someone sneezes to my left, Beau and I pause and look at each other, foxhounds who stumbled across the scent.

The tension leaches from me as Beau rushes past and around a neat stack of hay bales.

“Ollie!” he exclaims, and when he falls to his knees, I let go of my breath in a rush.

My phone is in my hands before I realize I’ve reached for it, and I shoot off a text to let my family know we found him.

By the time I join them, Beau has Ollie gathered in his arms, the little boy on his feet and tucked in against his chest. Beau’s eyes are closed, but his relief is palpable.

“Ollie,” Beau says again, holding him at arm’s length to scan him for injury, then running his hands over his arms and stomach, his knees and his ankles. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“No.” Ollie glances at me guiltily. “I’m fine.”

Beau crushes his nephew to him again and buries his face in his hair. Ollie’s arms come around his uncle’s much larger chest in a hug that brings me to tears.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Beau murmurs, voice cracking, and I set a hand on his shoulder. “You scared me. When I couldn’t find you, I thought—”

Beau clears his throat and lets Ollie go, but he doesn’t get up from the floor, and he holds on tight to Ollie’s arms, like his nephew might still try to slip away.

“Why did you do it? Why did you run away?”

Ollie blinks fast, his chin quivering, and looks at me again as a tear slips down his cheek.

Beau sweeps it away. “Hey, buddy. What’s wrong?”

Ollie clenches his jaw, his little hands ball into fists, and a wall of saltwater rises in his eyes, but he won’t talk. Maybe he can’t.

“What’s going on, cowboy?” I squat to meet his eye level. “Do you want me to go so you can talk to your uncle in private?”

He shakes his head.

“All right. Then I’ll stay.” I sit cross-legged to make it clear I’ve got nowhere else to be. My legs are shaky anyway, and I drop to the floor with relief. “If you’ll talk to us.”

When he still doesn’t offer an explanation, I exchange a look with Beau, then prod him with a gentle nod. Beau returns it in silent agreement, then with a sigh that’s part grief, part release, he turns his full attention to this broken little boy.

thirty-five

Beau

My heart is still racing. I don’t think I’ll ever breathe easy again. Now that I know the absolute fear of losing this kid, I’ll never not know it. The terror is etched into my bones.

“You can talk to me,” I tell Ollie. “Even about hard things. I hope you know that.”

He drops his gaze, the tears he’s valiantly held back splashing onto his jeans, and he doesn’t look up again.

I glance at Daisy, who watches me with a patient confidence I don’t deserve. How the hell am I supposed to fix this?

What do I know about the inner workings of a ten-year-old boy? He ran away from me, for Christ’s sake! I’m doing something wrong if the kid thinks this can solve his problems when I can’t.

Ollie is shaken up. I get that. My father showing up spooked an already fragile horse. Hell, I’m a grown man and it still knocked me down. I can’t imagine what it’s like for Ollie.

That’s when I realize I can imagine it. I know exactly what it’s like. I remember being a kid, wishing an adult would swoop in like a superhero and make things right. I remember not knowing what to do with fears and frustrations that made no sense to my ten-year-old self. There was something wrong and unspoken about my family, but nobody wanted to look at it long enough to tell me it wasn’t my fault.

I sigh again. Ollie needs to know none of this is his fault.

“Ollie,” I say. “I know this is hard, but we need to talk about why you ran away. You share your feelings with Amy, but I should’ve made more of an effort to continue those conversations at home. Have you been sad, and I didn’t realize it?”

It takes a moment, but Ollie eventually replies with a short shake of his head.

“Not sad,” I say, thankful he’s starting to respond. “Maybe another feeling?” When he doesn’t reply, I try again. “Angry? Confused?”

Ollie lifts one shoulder, and I defer to Daisy for help, but she seems to think I’m on the right track because she encourages me with a tip of her head.

“You know, sometimes I find it hard to put my feelings into words,” I say. “For example, seeing your grandfather made me feel things I don’t want to feel.”

Ollie raises his head, curious and serious. “Like what?”

“Well. If I’m honest, I was angry. He wasn’t a very good father to me when I was growing up, and that was hard to understand when I was your age. It’s still hard to understand now. I wanted him to love me, but I don’t think he did. I can pretend it doesn’t hurt when I don’t have to see him very often, but the truth is, it still makes me mad. When I saw him, it brought up those old emotions. I don’t like feeling that way, but sometimes we can’t help it.”

Ollie licks his lips, hesitating like he’s not sure he should admit something. “I get angry too. At Grandpa.” His voice is small. “And Mom.”

“I understand,” I say quietly. “I would be angry at them too if I were you.”

He plucks at a loose stitch in the seam of his jeans, and I try again.

“I also feel confused,” I tell him. “Because in a lot of ways, I still love your grandpa. And your grandma. And even your mom. They will always be my family, and it’s hard to not love your family, even when they treat you badly.”

Ollie curls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I love them too.”

I set a comforting hand on his head. “It’s possible to love someone and be mad at them at the same time. You can do both.”

Ollie sniffles, then wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Grandpa was mean to me,” he says. “He laughed at my hat.”

I give myself a moment to let the eruption of fury fade. “Grandpa doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and cowboys don’t take fashion advice from a man who can’t ride a horse.”

Ollie’s mouth tips up on one side. “Yeah.”

I tug on the sleeve of his T-shirt. “But you know what? We’re lucky, Ollie, because we have each other. We have to stick together. No more running away.”

“But I don’t want to go live with Grandpa,” he almost cries. “I want to stay here.”

His simple declaration makes the bridge of my nose tingle, and knowing I can’t promise him anything makes my heart thump erratically. I take a slow breath to calm myself.

“I don’t want you to live with Grandpa either,” I assure him. “He didn’t come here to take you away, and he’s gone now.”

“But you still want us to leave Silver Leaf,” he accuses.

“Why do you say that?”

He scowls a little. “Because you want to work at a place called Amber-Fee… Amber-Falls… Amber-something! It’s not fair that you get to decide where we live, and you’ve been keeping secrets, just like Mom!”

My throat sticks. “Who said we’re leaving Silver Leaf?”

He glares for a moment, then rolls his eyes. “I’m ten, not stupid. Me and Izzy heard you guys talking.”

I swap a chagrined look with Daisy. “Well, I can understand why you’re mad at me, but Ollie—where we live and where I work is a decision I have to make as a grown-up. We need to go where it’s best for you, and I need a proper job to take care of you.”

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “I should’ve been more honest with you, but I was trying to protect you. I didn’t want you to worry. I guess my plan backfired, huh?”

“So we are leaving?” he asks.

I force myself to focus on my nephew, my gaze never straying toward the woman holding her breath by my side.

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “I’m still working it out.”

“Is that why you ran away?” Daisy asks. “So you could stay at Silver Leaf?”

“It was Izzy’s idea,” Ollie confesses. “She said I could share her room. She has a trundle and everything.”

“Oh, buddy.” I pick up his hand, and it looks so small in mine. “It’s very, very important that you never do something like this again. You could be hurt if nobody knows where you are, and I was terrified when I couldn’t find you. I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”

Ollie hangs his head. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“I know,” I say. “And whether you like it or not, you need a proper guardian. It’s my job to love you, care for you, and keep you safe. And I want it to stay that way, which means we stick together, even in the hard times, okay?”

His nod this time comes with a sigh. “Okay.”

“And you know what else? If you weren’t around, I’d really miss you.”

He looks up through his dark lashes. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. You’re a great kid, and the way you help me with the horses? I’d be lost without you.”

For the first time in three days, Ollie smiles, and my chest releases at the sight of it.

“But Ollie? The only way this works is if we trust each other. It’s obvious that we both have to work on that, but I’m willing to try if you are.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He scrubs his hand under his nose, fidgets a little, and then casts another of those hooded looks at Daisy.

“Is there something else, cowboy?” she asks.

His shoulders curl in. “I’m sorry I came into the loft without a grown-up. I know that’s against the rules.” Ollie picks up a piece of hay and clasps it in a fist as his brows knit together. “Does this mean I’m fired?”

“Fired?” Daisy blinks with alarm, but she’s fighting a smile. “No, sweetie. You’re not fired. I’m impressed that you admitted your mistake and apologized. That takes maturity.”

He brightens a little. “It does?”

“Of course. But you’re right. It was against the rules. You know what your uncle was saying about trust? Well, that goes for you and me too. We might have to talk about what you can and can’t do in the stable. And I’ll keep a closer eye on you until I’m confident that you’ll only go where I say you can go and you’ll only ever be where you promise you’ll be. What do you say to that?”

Ollie smiles with tight lips. “Okay, Aunt Daisy.”

Her brows rise alongside a sharp inhale, and she presses a hand over her heart. I’m fighting for my life to try not to react and ruin their moment.

“Is that okay?” Ollie asks hesitantly. “If I call you Aunt Daisy?”

Daisy throws herself across the floor and tackles the poor kid, barreling him into a hug that knocks them both to the boards. “Yes! Absolutely. I love it. If it’s all right with your Uncle Beau?”

“It’s more than all right with me,” I say with a crack in my voice.

Ollie giggles. “You’re squishing me!”

“Oops.” She pushes herself upright and helps Ollie back to his seated position. “Sorry. I got a little carried away.”

“Who said I didn’t like it?” Ollie quips with a grin, then to me, he adds, “Where’s my hat?”

“It’s back at the cabin,” I tell him. “Which is where we’re going now to have a good breakfast and maybe go back to bed? You look tired.”

Ollie yawns widely but says, “I’m all right. I can work. Pony Noir needs his breakfast too.”

Daisy questions me with one lifted brow. “What do you say, Beau? Business as usual?”

My body aches like I’ve already done a hard day’s work, adrenaline and panic leaving my muscles and my mind exhausted. But keeping busy is best for all of us. It’ll give us less time to think.

Because I’ve got a decision to make, and it’s not going to be easy. Not when the future of this little boy comes first, and I’m struggling to imagine a future for me at Silver Leaf.

thirty-six

Daisy

I watch from the bedroom door as Beau tucks Ollie into the camping cot, and I make a mental note to order a real bed for him first thing in the morning. Ollie can choose the frame. And pick out the linens. Then pictures for the walls—horses and hockey and whatever the hell he wants. Paint, too, if the color isn’t bright enough. If the barn house is where Ollie will live from now on, I want it to feel like home for him, not a temporary stay in a guest bedroom.

Beau leaves the lamp on, then drops a kiss on Ollie’s forehead and crosses the room.

“Asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow,” he murmurs as we step into the hall, and when the door closes with a quiet click, he releases a pent-up breath.

“Fuck,” he whispers, running a hand down his face. “What a day.”

I reach up to cup his face and wait until he opens his eyes. They’re liquid and tired and haunted.

“Wine?” I ask with a soft smile.

He brushes his lips over mine. “Absolutely.”

I lead the way down the hall, but before I can retrieve a bottle and glasses, Beau ushers me to a counter stool, sits me down, then fetches the wine himself. I watch him move around the kitchen—opening the fridge and choosing a chilled white, locating the correct cabinet on the first try and pulling out glasses, setting them on the marble countertop and filling one for me and then one for him. He’s already at home here.

Taking a sip, I watch over the top of the glass as Beau takes a longer swallow. Then he sets down the glass to put his elbows on the counter and his head in his hands.

My heart breaks. “Oh, sweetheart.”

I rush around to his side of the counter and throw my arms around him. He’s a solid, stony mass of tension, but he wraps me up, and I listen to his chest as his breath moves in and out.

“He’s going to be okay,” I murmur against his shirt. “I promise.”

“Yeah.” He hugs me tighter for a moment, pulling me against him like he’s afraid I’ll slip away, then kisses my head before releasing me. “Can we sit for a second?”

“Sure.”

I thread my fingers through his. I’m not sure why it feels important to keep a hold on him now, but some instinct tells me that to let go would be a mistake. We take our wine to the living room and drop onto the sofa. I curl my legs up and snuggle against his side, fitting perfectly inside the curve of his body.

“I need to apologize to your family,” he begins.

“No, you really don’t.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Darlin’, what happened this morning was so far past the point of professionalism, I couldn’t even see it in the rear-view mirror. Dragging your brothers and sisters out of bed before dawn because my boy ran away?” He shakes his head and blows out a breath. “Now we can add ‘terrible father’ to their list of reasons to think poorly of me.”

I twist to face him straight on. “Nobody thinks that. They were all rattled and worried for Ollie. Everybody loves that little boy. They were waiting anxiously to find out what happened, and when I explained it all, I could hear their relief through the phone.”

Beau gives me a half-hearted smile and tweaks my braid. “That was for Ollie, and I appreciate it. It’s got nothing to do with the way they feel about me.”

“That’s not—”

He cuts me off with a finger pressed against my lips. “Just listen to me, will you?”

He waits until I nod, then drops his hand.

“I don’t fit in here,” he says, matter of fact, and it prickles me. Beau knows it, because he pins me with a narrow-eyed frown. “Let me talk, Darlin’. This is important.”

“Fine, but I reserve the right to argue when you’re done.”

He snorts quietly. “That’s a given.”

His arm slides around my body to scoop me back against his chest, and I suspect he’s turned me around so he doesn’t have to meet my eyes.

“I love you, but…” He sighs. “I have to take Ollie to Emberfield.”

I bite back all the reasons why he’s wrong, and instead say, “Explain?”

He kisses my head and takes a minute to gather his thoughts. It’s all I can do not to jump into the silence and list every argument I have to make him stay, but I hold my tongue.

“You see, Darlin’,” he says, “I’ve seen the ways families break, and I don’t want that to happen to yours. I don’t want to be the reason things are tense or uncomfortable. You would grow to resent me, and I’d grow to resent you. I won’t risk what we’re rebuilding by putting pressure on us we don’t need, and I don’t want Ollie in the middle of something like that. I owe it to him to make a better choice, and to be frank, I owe it to myself.”

I frown into my wine. “What do you mean?”

“I want the job at Emberfield,” he says. “I know that sounds selfish, and maybe it is, but I can’t get it out of my mind. I picture what a future here would look like compared to a future there, and I think—no, I know—the job with Duke will make me feel good about myself. Do you know how long it’s been since I could say that? Ollie will find his feet sooner than I give him credit for. He’ll start school and make friends. He’ll fall in love with new horses, and we’ll work hard and well together. It’ll be hard for both of us at first, but both of us will be okay because we’ll be doing work that gives us value.”

“The work is the same here,” I say.

“And Charlie doesn’t want me to do it.” His hand moves along my arm, sweeping strokes up and down. “Darlin’, you’ve got to understand. My dad did a real good job teaching me I wasn’t worth a lot. Nothing, really. My own father raised me to believe I was worthless. I can’t let that be the lesson Ollie takes away from this, even if it’s in ways that aren’t so obvious.”

I let my head fall against his chest, wishing his reasons for leaving didn’t make so much sense. “Like what?”

“Like staying where I’m not wanted. I need to set a better example. Be a man who knows his own worth so that Ollie grows into a man who knows his.”

My throat catches, and I make a little sound that causes Beau to set down his wine and pull me onto his lap.

“You’re worth everything to me,” I tell him, blinking away the sting in my eyes. “You’re sweet and smart and thoughtful and caring and hardworking and talented and—”

“A fantastic lover?”

I smack him lightly on the chest, laughing when I want to cry. “Yes. A fantastic lover.”

He chuckles and kisses me. “Kismet Creek isn’t far,” he says. “We can do long distance. Go back and forth. Meet halfway. And when Ollie’s older, we’ll make plans for what comes next.”

“No. I lived without you for a year, and it was the hardest year of my life—and that’s saying something. I’ve had a lot of hard days.”

“Daisy Darlin’, please don’t try to change my mind. I’m doing this for you too. I want to be a better man for you—the best kind of man. The kind you deserve.”

I shake my head. “That’s not what I mean. I’m not asking you to change your mind. I hear you. I understand you. I support you. And most of all, I love you. Your instincts are always spot-on, sweetheart, and I’m not questioning them. If you need to go to Emberfield, you should go.”

He sighs and buries his nose in my hair. “Thank you, Darlin’.”

“You’re welcome.”

He waits a beat, then huffs a disbelieving laugh. “That’s it? I was expecting a more animated discussion about this.”

“No need for theatrics,” I tell him, “because I’m going with you.”

He grows still, and I watch with unwavering resolve as understanding widens his eyes.

Beau lifts me off his body and puts a little space between us. His face is composed, and his eyes are steady. “Daisy? No.”

“Beau? Yes.”

His jaw feathers and his nostrils flare. “Silver Leaf is your home. Your family is here. I just spent the last ten minutes telling you I cannot—I will not—be the spur that sets off a rift. You belong here.”

I take his hand and stare at him deeply so he understands me. “I belong with you.”

Those soulful eyes express more than he’ll say. He drops his head, and I give him a moment to process. When he lifts his chin again, those eyes are conflicted. Hope chasing fear. Sacrifice wrestling selfishness.

“I can’t let you do this,” he whispers.

“Well, sucks to be you, because this isn’t for you to decide.”

His eyes grow glassy, and my own emotions threaten to choke me.

“I’ll tell Charlie tomorrow, then everyone else,” I say, and when his brow creases with uncertainty, I grip his hands tighter. “This is what I want, Beau. You and Ollie and a life together. I can love my family from a distance, but I can’t live without you.”

He cradles my jaw in both hands, then draws me in for a gentle, thankful kiss. “I love you, Darlin’,” he says. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more.” I crawl back into the safe space of his lap, twine my arms around his neck, and kiss him harder. “And I’ll love you forever.”

“Promise?” he says, throat bobbing as a smile steals over his mouth.

“I promised to always love you a long time ago, sweetheart.”

I’ve been waiting for the right time to do this, expecting it to be a night under the stars like our magical anniversary in Banff, but no moment has felt more perfect than now. I dip into the pocket of my jeans and pull out my daisy bracelet.

“Are these arms still mine?” I ask in a cracking whisper, holding the bracelet up between us.

He blinks away tears. “Of course. Always.”

“And will you always take care of me when I’m sick? Coke and fries and washcloth and all?”

“No question.” He takes the bracelet and balances the charms on his fingertips.

“You promise to reserve that temper for me, Darlin’? Sleep in my bed every night, no matter how mad we get?”

“I do, if you promise that our love will always be our north star. I’ll follow you anywhere, Beau, because there will never be anyone for me other than you.”

My tears are happy ones as he loops the chain around my wrist and fastens the clasp, and then we’re kissing again. A last kiss for our old life. A first kiss for our new one.

A kiss that bridges the past with the future we’re just beginning.

thirty-seven

Beau

I pick up my phone for the hundredth time today and scroll through my contacts until I find Duke’s number. But like the ninety-nine times before, I can’t bring myself to hit the call button.

I stare at the screen, frustrated with my inexplicable hesitancy, then hit the lock button and set my phone face down on the kitchen counter. It’s too late to disturb him now anyway. I’ll call first thing in the morning and officially accept the job.

Relieved to put off obsessing about it for at least the next twelve hours, I stick my head in the refrigerator and bite back a groan.

“It has to be the hot dogs,” I call to Ollie at the table. “Either that or eggs again.”

“Blergh.”

I straighten and shoot my nephew an offended look. “My eggs are blergh?”

“They weren’t the first fifty times,” he says, eyes on his sketchbook as he fills in the color of Pony Noir’s coat. “But they are now.”

“I probably shouldn’t say this,” I reply, closing the fridge and joining him at the table, “but I agree with you. If I never eat another omelet again, it will be too soon.”

Ollie’s smile lifts one side of his mouth. “Told you.”

“So, listen.” I clasp my hands on the table in front of me and try to sound confident. “We need to talk about our plans.”

His pencil stills on the page, and then he slowly sets it down. “We’re leaving, aren’t we?”

I give him an empathetic smile. “I know you don’t want to, and it’s going to be hard for me too, but remember what we said about trusting each other? I need you to trust me that this is the best thing for all of us.”

He sighs, shoulders slumping. “What is this place we’re going?”

“It’s called Emberfield. It’s run by a nice family in Kismet Creek, which is just over an hour’s drive from here. Daisy says we’ll come back to visit all the time, so you can still see Izzy, if you want to.”

Ollie frowns, then snaps upright. “Aunt Daisy is coming with us?”

“She wants to,” I say carefully. “And when your Aunt Daisy wants something, she usually finds a way to get it.”

“I want her to come too!” Ollie grins. “Will we all live together?”

I try not to smile, wary of making promises I’m not sure I can keep, but I meant it when I said I want our relationship to be based on mutual honesty, and his joy is infectious.

“That’s the plan. Yes.”

“Wow.” Ollie shakes his head like he can’t believe his luck. “This makes things much better.” A cloud passes over his face, and he sags again. “I’m going to miss Pony Noir.”

“I’m sure he’ll miss you too,” I reply. “But, like I said, we’re not going far. Pony Noir can still be part of your life.”

This cheers him up a little. “Okay. When do we leave?”

“School goes back for you the week after next, so we’ll be out of here in a couple of days.”

He pouts a little and rolls his eyes. “School. Blergh.”

“Worse than my eggs?” I ask.

Ollie chuckles. “I hope not.”

I ruffle his hair and return to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator again just as there’s a knock on the door.

“You expecting someone?” I tease.

“Nope,” Ollie says.

He hops up and hovers at my hip as I open the door. It’s Dylan.

“Hey,” I greet him. “Daisy’s not here.”

“I’m not looking for Daisy,” he replies. “I came to talk to you.” He grins at my nephew. “Hey there, Ollie. Good to see you again.”

“Hey,” Ollie says, at ease now with Izzy’s dad. He cranes his neck to look up at me. “Can I go finish my picture?”

“Sure. I’ll be out here for a few more minutes, okay? Then I’ll start dinner.”

“I’m in no rush for hot dogs,” he assures me before darting back inside.

Dylan waits until Ollie disappears inside before he says, “Kid gave us a scare yesterday. I’m glad he’s okay.”

“You and me both,” I reply with unabashed relief. “I’m sorry for the trouble. Things have been complicated here, and Ollie was scared. I should’ve handled things better, but…” I sigh and shake my head. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing half the time.”

Dylan leans back against the porch rail. “None of us do. Parenting is the hardest job in the world, and single parenting comes with a whole lot of extra challenges.”

“I’m starting to realize that.”

“And you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. In fact, I want to apologize to you.”

“You do?” There’s no way to mask my surprise. “Why?”

Dylan rubs his neck, his smile chagrined. “I’m sorry my daughter put ideas in Ollie’s head about how to run away. They concocted a whole scheme, by the sounds of things. He was going to move into the main house, did you know that?”

My mouth lifts a little. “Yeah. There’s a trundle with his name on it, apparently.”

Dylan huffs a laugh. “Izzy’s a bright kid, but she’s not even eight years old. Sometimes, she’s clever enough that I lose sight of that, and this is a reminder of how much growing up she has to do. I hope you’ll accept my apology and my assurance that Poppy and I had a very long, very serious talk with her about her choices, and about how dangerous it was for Ollie to do something like this. She understands it was wrong, and it won’t happen again.”

“I never thought to assign blame in this, especially not to Izzy, but I appreciate you coming to talk about it. Truly. It means a lot.”

“You’re welcome.” Dylan hesitates, then adds, “And what you said about causing trouble. You know we don’t consider it trouble, right? This is what happens in families, and that’s what we’re here for. To step up and step in when someone needs us. Nobody judges you for what happened.”

“Yeah, well, with Ollie’s little adventure on top of my father showing up at your home and ruining your day, I wouldn’t blame you if you did judge me. I deserve it.”

Dylan frowns. “Do you really believe that?”

I shrug. “Can’t say I dwell on it too much, but with a family like mine, you learn to live with the way people look at you. The way they don’t say what they’re really thinking is just something you get used to.”

The lines on Dylan’s forehead deepen before he smooths them away. “So, listen. Daisy came to see us this afternoon and told us about your plans to move up to Kismet Creek. Duke offered you a job at Emberfield?”

“That’s right, and if this is about giving all the necessary notice, I’ll have something in writing to Charlie in the morning. If it means forfeiting any wages, I understand. I know I’m leaving you in the lurch.”

His expression softens in a way I’m not used to. “I’m not here about that.”

“Oh.” I nod with a dry laugh. “You’re here because Daisy wants to come with me.”

Dylan tilts his head from side to side. “That’s part of it.”

“I didn’t ask her to leave Silver Leaf, if that’s what you think.”

“Nope. Daisy made it clear that this is her choice. She loves you, she wants to be with you, and she’ll follow you anywhere to make sure that happens.” He nods toward the closed cabin door. “She loves that little boy too.”

I swallow thickly. “We both do.”

“She also told us she offered you a job here, and you turned it down.”

My smile is wry this time, and I lean my hip on the porch rail. “You were at breakfast the other morning. You heard as well as I did the conversation between Daisy and Charlie. There isn’t a job for me to turn down. Just a dream in Daisy’s head that might never be a reality.”

Dylan’s gaze sharpens. “But if there was a job for you at Silver Leaf, would you take it?”

“You mean the job I’ve got?” I shake my head. “A couple of years ago, I was satisfied being a stable hand and not much more. It’s a fine way to live, but I’ve got Ollie to think about now. I need more money. More stability. I need to set a better example so the kid understands what it means to work hard and make something of himself. The job at Emberfield ticks all the boxes. I’d be a fool to say no to it.”

“You make a good argument,” he says easily, “but I’m not talking about the stable hand job. I mean the manager role. Supervising operations and administration so Daisy can focus on her camping tours and trail rides.”

My brows knit together. “Like I said to Daisy—like Charlie said to Daisy—that’s a business decision. I don’t want to get in the middle of your family’s politics.”

Dylan tries not to smile. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you already are.”

I huff a laugh. “All the more reason for me to get out of here, wouldn’t you say?”

He chuckles a little. “Daisy tells us you don’t think you’re qualified for the job.” He laughs harder at the look on my face. “Did I get that wrong?”

“Someone’s wires got crossed somewhere,” I say. “I can do the job with one hand tied behind my back, but that’s not the problem.”

“So what is?”

The guy waits for my answer with patient interest, and though part of me is uncomfortable laying all my shit bare, the other can’t help but respond to the fact that he’s here and he wants to talk.

“Charlie hired me to be a stable hand. Any promotion now wouldn’t be because I earned it. It would be because Daisy twisted Charlie’s arm to give it to me, and I don’t want it that way. I’m nobody’s charity case.”

His nod is slow and thoughtful. “Do you know how I became head chef at The Hill?”

The sharp change in subject knocks me a little off balance. “Um… no?”

“My dad hired me. He sat me down the day after I finished my apprenticeship and gave me the job. You know where I apprenticed?”

I’m trying to connect the dots, but he’s jumped too far sideways, and I’m lost. “Nope.”

“The Hill,” he says with a self-deprecating half smile. “My family’s very own restaurant. You think I’d done enough to earn the job as head chef? A twenty-year-old kid with three years of chopping onions on his resume?”

I swallow a quip about nepo babies. “So you got the easy road. Is that what you’re saying?”

He lifts one shoulder. “In some ways, it was easy, but just because I did nothing to earn the job before I got it doesn’t mean I haven’t worked my ass off every day since to prove I deserve it.”

“Dylan, if this is a pep talk—”

“It is, so do me a favor and listen. I made a lot of mistakes. There were nights I wanted to throw it all in, especially when Izzy came along and I was raising her all on my own, but I got up every day and reminded myself I loved it, even when it was hard. I didn’t have a time machine. I couldn’t rewrite my past, so I made it my mission to earn that title after the fact. And I did.”

I exhale roughly. “I see what you’re getting at, but—”

“Charlie’s situation is much the same,” he says over me. “She’s the only one of us who went to college, got a degree, and wanted to make her name in corporate America. Mom died a month before she graduated, and Dad was a wreck, so she came home to manage Silver Leaf instead of taking a public relations job she’d worked damn hard for. Charlie was CEO of this place before her twenty-fourth birthday. She’d never be hired for a role like that anywhere else, but here? She got the job, and then she earned it. And she keeps proving herself every day. The same way I do. The same way you could too.”

“These are real nice stories,” I tell him. “And don’t think I don’t get the moral. You’re practically beating me over the head with it. But there’s one big difference here that you either can’t see or don’t want to see. This isn’t my family business! You got those chances because you were born into something worthwhile. All this?” I wave my hand around, gesturing toward the vineyards and hills and woodlands of Silver Leaf. “It’s yours, no matter how much or how little you work for it.”

Dylan’s eyebrow tweaks.

“No offense,” I mutter.

His mouth twitches at the corner. “None taken.”

“I appreciate you coming by,” I tell him, unused to the regret I feel after saying what I think. “But it’s getting late, and I need to get back to Ollie.”

“Just a second.” He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, pulls out an envelope, and hands it to me.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Photographs. Charlie had that professional photographer at Chord’s retirement party, and we’ve been sorting through the shots. Deciding what to use for promotion and what to keep for the family. There are a few great pics of Ollie, and we thought you might like copies for yourself.”

“Oh.” I glance at the envelope. “I don’t know what to say. I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Dylan extends his hand. “You’re welcome.”

I hesitate, the offer of a handshake feeling loaded with more meaning than simple thanks for a gift. I take it slowly, scanning his face for a hint that by doing so I’ve agreed to something without realizing it. My suspicion is confirmed by the satisfied glint in his eyes. I’ve seen that glint before. In the eyes of his little sister.

I’m trying to work out what just happened when Dylan hits the last porch step and turns around. “You guys hungry?” he asks like it’s an afterthought.

I grimace at the reminder of the sad pack of hot dogs waiting for me and Ollie inside. “We’re fine.”

Dylan grins. “If you can hit pause on the stubborn asshole act for an hour, we’re having a family dinner up at the house. Daisy will be there, and there are two open seats for you and Ollie. You’re welcome to join us.”

My stomach chooses that moment to rumble, and Dylan’s mouth tips up. “See you there in fifteen minutes.”

“I didn’t say yes,” I tell him.

“Not what I heard,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks away. “I’ll tell Daisy to expect you.”

Dylan lengthens his stride, and I wonder what he’s trying to achieve. The guy hated me on sight, and no number of warm and fuzzy stories about his childhood will change the fact that his life and mine couldn’t be any more different.

I turn the envelope over, then open it and pull out a stack of glossy prints. The first on the stack makes me smile. Ollie and Daisy on the dance floor, their faces bright with happiness. The next is Ollie alongside Izzy, their little elbows sticking out and their lips puckered for “The Chicken Dance.” Then it’s me dancing with Daisy, her body pressed close, her head on my shoulder, her closed eyes fanning thick lashes onto her cheek, and her full lips curved upward. The next picture looks like it was taken only a few moments later. In this one, we’re in the same position, but we’re both laughing. Her head is thrown back and my eyes are on her. I couldn’t look away from her then, and I can’t look away from her now. She’s my everything.

But it’s the next picture that knocks the breath out of me. I don’t remember the photographer taking it. I didn’t even know he was there. It’s late into the night, long after everyone else has left. The lighting is low. Our table’s a mess. The garden chic dress code has been abandoned for bare feet and open collars. Everyone’s in the frame. Chord and Violet. Charlie. Finn and Rosie. Dylan, Poppy, and Izzy. Daisy. Me and Ollie. Every person is laughing, and everybody looks like they belong there. Every single one. Even my nephew. Even me.

I turn the print over and read the caption scrawled on the back. The date. The location. The occasion. And underneath that, a description I read twice more to make sure I got it right.

The Davenport Family.

My throat catches, and I clear it as I stuff the photographs back into the envelope and let myself back into the cabin. I lift Ollie’s hat from the hook and toss it onto his sketchpad.

“Come on, buddy. Put on your boots. We just got invited to dinner.”

thirty-eight

Daisy

I’m sprawled out on the sofa, staring up at the yellow-white ceiling of my family’s living room, when a balled-up dishcloth flies through the air and lands on my face.

“Hey!” I scramble up, looking around for the pain in the ass who threw it, but all three of my brothers are in the kitchen, their broad backs to me, which makes them all equally guilty.

I drag myself to my feet and lob the cloth at Dylan, who happens to be closest.

“When did you get back?” I ask, slipping past him.

“Just now.”

“Does that mean we can get this family meeting started? I need to see Beau and tell him I’ve spoken to you about my plans.”

I help myself to a chair while the rest of my family arrange themselves around the table, which is loaded up with tonight’s dinner. Dylan’s pulled no punches with a Middle Eastern-inspired feast. Hummus and garlic yogurt and marinated feta. Shawarma and kofta and char-grilled vegetables. Warm spices and salads and kibbeh, and little cheese-filled pastries he knows I adore. I pluck one off a platter and take a bite.

“Are you sure about this, Daze?” Chord asks as he pulls out a chair for Violet next to Rosie.

“I’m positive,” I tell my oldest brother.

He watches me for a moment, maybe waiting for my confidence to shake, but it won’t. My leaving Silver Leaf is all we’ve talked about today. Hours and hours of back and forth, me explaining why I have to go and them coming up with reasons I should stay. I was glad to escape for my trail rides this afternoon, but I’ve got no doubt the debate continued even when I wasn’t around to hear it.

Do I wish things were different? Of course. I was ready to stay at Silver Leaf forever, and now that I’m leaving again, the grief I’ve kept checked all my adult life keeps bubbling up. I push it aside with thoughts of Beau and Ollie and tell myself that Mom would understand. If she were here, she’d be on my side, encouraging me to go. I’m as sure of that as I am of anything.

Charlie takes a seat two down from me, leaving the chair between us empty. She pours herself a glass of water from a jug, then fills a glass for me. She’s been the quietest of everyone today, letting our brothers take the lead to cajole—sometimes bully—me into staying. I’m starting to wonder if she’s actually okay with me going. It’d solve the problem of having to manage her flaky, flighty little sister, and she doesn’t even have to be the bad guy.

I lean toward her with the plate of pastries. “If you want one, better take it now. Once I start, I can’t stop.”

She smiles a little and helps herself. “Thanks.”

The kitchen bustles around us, music playing, drinks flowing, Izzy twirling to make her neon-purple tutu spin higher. I scoot into the empty chair next to Charlie, then dip my head and keep my voice low.

“I know this thing with Beau and Emberfield happened fast, and I know I’m letting you down. I started the summer determined to be more like you—to be a boss and smash this whole running operations thing, but you were right. I don’t have it.”

A crease pops up between her brows. “You wanted to be more like me?”

“I did. I still do.” I click my tongue, then laugh quietly. “But it wasn’t meant to be. I should’ve listened to you in the first place.” Guilt sours my stomach, and I drop my pastry onto a plate. “I really am sorry. I know going to Kismet Creek with Beau is the right thing for me, but I hate disappointing everyone. You most of all.”

Charlie frowns at her napkin, then straightens her cutlery unnecessarily and finally looks at me with compassion.

“You could never disappoint me, Daze. If anything, I’m proud of you for going after what you want. That takes courage and determination, and you’ve got both in spades.” She rolls her eyes and her mouth tips up. “You don’t want to be like me anyway. Chained to your desk. Married to your work. Why would you be me when you can be you?”

Charlie stuffs the pastry in her mouth, then forgoes her water for a gulp of wine. I watch her with concern. “Charlie, are you okay?”

She takes her time swallowing, then gives me a grin I don’t believe. “I’m great.”

I’m about to pry a little harder when the back door creaks open and Beau pokes his head inside.

“Hello?” he says.

“Beau!” I jump up and scurry around the crowded table to get to him. Reaching the door, I open it wide, and Ollie darts in under my arm, making his way to Izzy and slipping into the vacant chair beside her.

“Hi,” Beau says, awkwardly coming inside. “Dylan invited me.”

“He did?”

Beau glances at my family, and I throw a look over my shoulder. Nobody looks surprised. Any other night, any other dinner, however unlikely it might be, I’d have been more open to the possibility that Dylan would extend an olive branch. But tonight’s dinner is supposed to be a family meeting, and I’m immediately suspicious.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I say, stretching up onto my toes to kiss him.

Beau reciprocates with a soft brush of his lips and a self-conscious glance at my brothers. It’s cute, and I roll my lips to stop a smile as I pull him around to my side of the table and push him into the empty chair.

“Glad you could make it,” Dylan says with a small nod.

“Thanks for the invitation,” Beau replies.

And then it’s like someone presses play on a movie I didn’t know I was in. Around the table, everyone starts arranging napkins and helping themselves to food. They compliment the chef and ask for more wine and behave as though Beau and Ollie being here is entirely expected.

I give it a minute, watching with increasing confusion, until I can’t stand it anymore.

“Stop!” I shout.

Everyone freezes.

“What?” Dylan asks.

“What do you mean, what?” I reply. “That’s my question. What’s going on here?”

Poppy drops her head to the side, a bowl of yogurt held aloft in one hand, her face the perfect picture of innocence. “Uh, we’re having dinner?”

“Oh, no. You said this was a family meeting, and now we’re just having dinner? I don’t buy it. You’re up to something, and I want to know what so I can enjoy my baba ghanoush.”

Violet’s the first to give anything away, a vibrant blush rising on her cheeks. She leans on Chord, trying to hide her face, but my eldest brother is watching Charlie like he’s waiting for the start of play. Rosie’s trying not to smile, Finn’s eyes are unreadable over cheeks stuffed with falafel, and Dylan shakes his head with an air of surrender.

“This is a family meeting,” Dylan says. “It’s also dinner.”

“Should I go?” Beau asks.

“No.” Chord lifts a hand to keep Beau in his seat. “You should definitely stay.”

I take Beau’s hand as Ollie slips off his chair and rounds the table, letting Beau haul him onto his lap.

“Can someone please tell me what this is all about?” I demand.

“Well, we’ve been talking,” Dylan begins.

“I know we’ve been talking,” I say impatiently. “We’ve done nothing but talk all day! I love you guys, and Silver Leaf will always be my home, but my mind’s made up. You know that. I wish you would just accept it and let it go.”

“There’s more,” Finn says before he inclines his head at Charlie. “Isn’t there, Charles?”

“There is,” she says, then turns to look at me, all businesslike and serious. “I spent all afternoon reviewing your proposal for the glamping tours and extensions to the trail rides. Every plan and projection and spreadsheet. It’s thorough and it’s good. Really good.”

“Uh, thank you?” Her praise lights a fire in my soul, and Beau squeezes my hand under the table, but none of it makes sense. “I don’t see how it changes things.”

“Well, it gets my stamp of approval, but an expansion like this should go to a family vote,” she says. “That’s why we’re all here.”

Butterflies take off in my middle, the lure of getting what I want here at Silver Leaf fighting the need to be with Beau no matter what.

“I don’t—”

“Part of your business plan was an outline of operations management,” Chord says. “How and what needs to happen—and by whom.”

“You read my proposal?” I ask in surprise.

Charlie’s the one who answers. “Chord and I are working out how to divide management responsibilities now that he’s living here full time.” Her tone, like her smile, is oddly flat. “He’s reading everything so we can figure out how to define our roles moving forward.”

Chord nods shortly. “So yes, I read your paperwork. You’ve really thought about this, Daze.”

“I have,” I agree. “Thank you for acknowledging it.”

Next to me, Beau’s exhale feels too slow and measured, and I scoot closer to him.

“You outlined a handover plan for the stable—the day-to-day running as well as the senior-level operations management,” says Charlie. “Role description, capabilities, and expectations. Even the perfect candidate.”

I glance at Beau and grin. “That part was easy.”

“Easy for us, too,” Chord says.

“So can we quit all the chitchat and get to the good stuff?” Finn demands.

Chord shakes his head with a sigh, and this time, Charlie’s smile is very real.

“Absolutely,” she says. “It’s time for a family vote. I move to support Daisy’s plan to establish glamping tours and expand trail rides at Silver Leaf.”

“Seconded,” Chord says.

My heart races. “But—”

“I vote yes,” Dylan talks over me with a proud grin.

“Me too,” Finn agrees.

“It’s a yes from me,” Poppy says, her eyes dancing as she smiles across the table at me.

“And me!” Izzy pipes up, setting off a round of affectionate chuckles.

“I vote yes,” Violet says, and Rosie adds, “So do I.”

“But you guys. This is—”

“Not done,” Chord cuts me off. “Next order of business. I move to make Beau our Silver Leaf stable manager.”

“Seconded,” Charlie says quickly before anyone can show support before she does.

“Another yes from me,” Finn says.

“And me,” Rosie adds with a giddy kind of smile.

Tears well up in my eyes, and I link my arm through Beau’s. “Are you all for real?”

“Shush. We’re not done yet,” Poppy scolds with a pleased laugh.

“I vote yes,” Dylan says, his deep blue eyes steady on Beau, like he’s trying to tell him something.

“Yes from me too,” Poppy says.

“And me!” Izzy shouts, and over the top of another round of laughs, Violet adds her vote. “Me too.”

“Beau?” I say with hope and stomach-twisting nerves. “What do you say?”

“Before you say anything,” Chord interrupts, and the room falls into a hush, “I hope you know this isn’t only about Daisy. It’s about what’s best for this family and our business. They say you can’t choose your family, but in this house, we can, and we do. All the time. And we’re doing it now.”

“We want you to stay,” Charlie agrees. “And I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Aside from the fact that you make my little sister happier than I’ve ever seen her, you’re a damn good horseman, and if you go, I’ll never find anyone half as good as you to take your place.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you,” Beau says with a dip of his chin. His voice is quiet, and I’m not sure why. Because he wants to say yes, or because he’s about to say no?

“We believe you belong here,” Dylan pushes. “Now it’s time to prove us right, and the only way to do that is to say yes, and keep saying yes, every day for the rest of your life.”

“Because once you’re in this family,” Poppy whispers with a perfectly straight face, “you’re never getting out.”

Dylan loops an arm around her, pretending to scowl, and she giggles before he kisses her deeply. Izzy sets an elbow on the table, her chin on her hand, and watches like her parents are a fairy tale come true.

“Can I vote?” Ollie asks suddenly.

I don’t wait for anyone’s approval before I reply, “Absolutely, cowboy. You’re family.”

“Then I vote yes,” he says. “Yes to the horse stuff and the camping stuff, and yes to the stable stuff, if it means we can stay?”

Ollie stares up at Beau with brown eyes full of hope, and I run my fingers through the boy’s soft, dark hair.

“What do you say, Beau?” I ask. “Will you take the job and give this a shot?”

Beau looks overwhelmed, and I hope his heart’s thumping as hard as mine for all the right reasons. I hope that light in his eyes means what I think it means.

He clears his throat and looks around the table. “Thank you, all of you, for the opportunity. I—” He stops to swallow deeply and take a good look at his nephew, still perched on his knee, then at me. That light in his dark eyes twinkles, and his mouth twitches.

“Yes, I’ll accept the job,” he says, looking at me, then at Charlie on his other side. He takes a beat to meet everyone’s eyes before he nods his thanks. “It’d be an honor.”

My heart leaps clear into my throat, and the sting behind my eyes turns to tears. Ollie squeezes Beau so tight around the neck that he grunts at the pressure of those tiny arms.

“Really?” I whisper, too afraid to believe just yet. “We can stay? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure of you,” he murmurs, reaching up to brush the hair from my forehead. “And I’m sure of us. That’s all I need to know to take the chance.”

Ollie cheers, slipping off Beau’s lap and scampering around to Izzy’s side of the table. It leaves Beau room to lean in, and I meet him halfway with a kiss. Someone starts to clap—Izzy, by the sound of those little hands—and soon everyone joins in.

Beau grins against my mouth. “Is this okay?” he asks before he pulls away.

I laugh and grab a napkin to dry my face. “It’s better than okay. It’s perfect.”

At the other end of the table, Finn raises his glass, and everyone hurries to do the same.

“To Beau and Ollie,” he says with a smile for me, then my brothers and sisters around the table. His gesture is the bittersweet kind we share at moments like these. When everything is perfect but for the reality that Mom and Dad aren’t here to share it. “Welcome to the family.”

“Welcome to the family!” everyone shouts in a chorusing echo.

As my family lifts their glasses to take a celebratory sip, I slide my arms around Beau’s shoulders and kiss him again.

“Thank you,” I say.

He smiles, wiping another tear from my cheek, but asks, “What for?”

“For saying yes.”

thirty-nine

Beau

I lug another box of old Legos into Ollie’s new bedroom, drop it on the floor, and stop to admire my nephew’s design choices. A deep green rug underneath a timber-framed bed matches the new drapes over the windows. There’s a matching dresser and a desk, a coat rack for Ollie’s hat, and a shelf that’s quickly filling up with books and toys. But what really tugs at my heartstrings are the walls.

They’re covered in pictures Ollie chose himself. A striking oversized black-and-white photograph of Pony Noir in a thick black frame. Arranged around it in a way that somehow works are Ollie’s horse sketches, likewise framed and safe behind clean plate glass. On the opposite wall hangs a San Francisco Fury hockey jersey signed by the entire team, and next to that, half a dozen framed photographs from Chord’s retirement party. The one with Ollie and Izzy dancing together is the largest. The shot of us all laughing around the table has a place on my nephew’s nightstand.

It’s only been ten days since we moved into Daisy’s place, but it looks like the kid’s lived here half his life. I smile to myself. Daisy’s been single-minded about decorating this room, and I have no doubt this lived-in feel is exactly the point.

I’m about to return to the kitchen when she walks in, arms loaded with a cloud of fresh, sweet-smelling sheets. She drops them on the bare mattress and plants her hands on her hips before scanning the room.

“It still needs something,” she says distractedly. “Are the walls too white? We could paint them.”

“The walls are fine.” I hook a finger into her belt loop and tug her against me. “The walls are perfect. You’re perfect.”

She smiles as I lean in to kiss her. Slowly at first, then deeper, pressing her body against mine, exchanging heat until she moans deep in her throat.

“I can’t believe this is real,” she murmurs, lifting onto her toes to circle her arms around my neck. She nuzzles in close, inhaling my skin, and I turn my head to breathe in the scent of her shampoo.

“Me neither,” I mumble.

“And no second thoughts about staying here at Silver Leaf?”

“Only about a thousand.”

“What?” She steps back as she asks, “Why didn’t you say something?”

I chuckle and yank her back into my arms. “I’m sorry, Darlin’, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I worry about screwing this up. Your family has put a lot of faith in me, and I want to make sure it’s not misplaced.”

“It’s not,” she says firmly. “It’s exactly where it’s supposed to be, and so are you.”

An unfamiliar warmth coils inside my chest, pulsing in gentle waves of ease and belonging. “Say it enough times and I might start believing it,” I warn her.

Her smile is smug, and her hazel eyes are shrewd. “You already believe it, don’t you? Just a little.”

“The way you love me makes it pretty hard not to.”

She offers me her mouth, and I accept it with a rush of gratitude. I’m so lucky to have her. And Ollie. And this.

“Something feels different for me too,” she says, her hands stroking my back as she talks. “I spent the last year trying to figure out how I fit in, and nothing felt right. I’m not the girl who was raised here by two parents who loved her so hard. I’m not the woman who traveled the world all those years. I wasn’t your girl anymore, and I wasn’t the person I used to be when you were by my side. Silver Leaf was home, and it’ll always be home, but being back here felt like I was living fragments of past lives instead of moving forward into something new. I didn’t know it at the time, but something was missing. I thought it was my parents, but that’s the kind of loss you learn to live with. There’s never any hope they’ll walk through the door again. But you… You were always out there, and as much as I tried to pretend otherwise, I couldn’t forget you.”

“I never forgot you either,” I tell her, reaching for the bracelet on her wrist, which makes her brush my shirt exactly where the daisy tattoo is hidden underneath. “It’s always been you.”

“That’s what I’m trying to say. You belong here more than you realize. For the first time since I was a kid, Silver Leaf feels expansive and exciting and full of possibilities again. The adventure I went out to chase all those years ago is right here where I want it to be. You’re here, and we’re together, and everything feels right.”

“Huh. Is that what this feeling is?” I ask.

Her brow quirks. “What feeling?”

“The openness in my chest and the lightness in my middle. The way breathing is easy.” I kiss her again. “The way you’ve never looked more beautiful than you do right now, and the thrill of knowing I’m going to think the exact same thing tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, and the next, for the rest of my life.”

“That’s the feeling of having a family at your back,” she tells me.

“Maybe. Or perhaps it’s just an effect of loving you.”

I kiss her again and let it grow deeper. She moans again and drags her lips away. “Maybe we should take this to—”

“Hello!” Ollie shouts as the doors to the back porch slide open. “Hello! I’m home!”

Daisy bites her lip, then starts to giggle. I reach around to pinch her ass as I kiss her again. “Don’t think I won’t collect later.”

“I’m counting on it.”

We leave the room hand in hand and enter the kitchen just as Ollie’s barreling inside with Izzy at his hip and Poppy and Dylan right behind. They’re in swimsuits with towels slung over their shoulders.

“Sorry to barge in on you,” Poppy says, peeking out from underneath a wide-brimmed straw hat. “The kids were bored up at the house, so we called Uncle Chord and Aunt Violet to organize a swim in the pool. We dropped in to pick up a bathing suit for Ollie, if he’s got one.”

“I think so,” I say, then shout down the hall as the kids zip past us. “Second drawer on the right, buddy! And don’t forget sunblock!”

“Do you want to join us?” Dylan asks.

Daisy gives me a questioning look, one that says we could spend the afternoon in the water hanging out with her brothers and sisters, or we could stay here and finish what we started.

Never in a million years could I have predicted this would be a choice I had to think about.

“Come on, Uncle Beau!” Ollie shouts as he races back out the door, Izzy hot on his heels. “I’ve never gone swimming in a pool this big before!”

Poppy laughs, then gives us a sympathetic look. “Guess that settles it.”

“I guess so,” Daisy agrees with a chuckle. “You guys driving around?”

“Yep.”

“All right. We’ll change and meet you there. Give us fifteen minutes?”

Our bedroom in the barn house feels almost as lived-in as Ollie’s down the hall, with linen that Daisy insisted I choose before she ordered it online and a world map hung on the wall with colored pins dotting all the places she’s been, all the cities I’ve been, and all the stops we’ve made together. There are three small powder-blue pins to represent Ollie and the towns he’s lived in so far. As much as I’m looking forward to seeing more of them dotted about the globe, the idea of his pin staying here in Sonoma Valley for the foreseeable future feels more rewarding than the possibility of showing him the world.

I groan as Daisy strips down to nothing, my dick thickening in a pained rush of arousal, and she grins devilishly as she walks across the room to fetch her bikini from the dresser. She pulls it out and lets the fabric swing from her finger, her smooth skin bare, her peach nipples pebbled in the air-conditioning, the apex of her thighs drawing my eyes again and again, no matter how hard I try to be a gentleman.

She lifts her brows in a way that says, well, what are you going to do about it?

I growl as I tear at the waist of my jeans, shove them off my legs, and cross the room to get my hands on her.

“Be quick,” she says as I hoist her up and she wraps her legs around my hips.

I reposition her ass to line myself up with her entrance, then pin her against the nearest wall as I sink inside her, and we moan together as her wet heat envelops me.

“Fuck. I don’t want to be quick, but damn it, you’re not making it easy for me, Darlin’.”

Her laugh is cut off with a gasp, then a whimper as I thrust up inside her. Her breasts are softly crushed against me, and the angle of her hips is just right, with my pubic bone pressing against her clit. Daisy grinds down on me as my thighs burn, my stomach hardens, and my dick grows slick with her wetness.

She comes quickly, fluttering around me, her core clamping down as heat coils behind my navel and sweat coats my skin. With a final brutal thrust, I come deep inside her, spilling and pulsing and dying and coming to life in an explosion of pleasure.

Her head drops onto my shoulder. “Oh, my God, that was good,” she pants.

I kiss the slope of her neck, then lick her salt from my lips. “Hell yeah, it was.”

Pushing us away from the wall, I carry her to the bathroom before carefully pulling out and setting her down.

“You know, I could get used to this,” she says as she cleans herself up.

I splash water on my face and watch her in the mirror. “What’s that?”

“Quickies at midday. Unplanned swims in the afternoon. Dinner with you and Ollie every evening.” She sneaks up behind me and wraps her arms around my waist, then drops kisses along the dip of my spine. “Falling asleep next to you every night. Waking up beside you every morning. Working and living and loving each other side by side every day.”

I turn to face her. “You don’t think it’ll get old? You won’t want to run off and see the world again?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Daisy gazes up at me, her kaleidoscopic eyes glassy. “You are my world.”

“And you’re mine,” I reply, and I’ve never meant anything more in my life.

We’re half an hour behind schedule by the time we arrive at Chord’s, and when we get there, we follow the squeals and shouts around back to Chord’s ridiculously overstated wet-edge pool. Everyone’s here—Chord and Violet, Finn and Rosie, and Dylan in the water with the kids, plus Poppy and Charlie lounging in the sun on the side. The pool itself is filled with novelty floats, including a unicorn and a peacock, a donut and a strawberry. Ollie’s astride a jumbo pineapple, using a bright pink pool noodle to joust with Finn on an enormous seahorse.

We approach the pool edge as Finn takes a hit to the head and tumbles over into the water.

“I win!” Ollie shouts before diving in himself.

Chord sees us and pushes himself out of the pool, then offers his hand to me.

“Hey, bro,” he says as I shake it. “You want a beer?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Chord retrieves an icy bottle from a cooler, cracks the cap, and hands it over. Then he dives back into the pool, water erupting on contact.

“Uncle Beau!” Ollie calls. “Get in! I saved the unicorn for you!”

I glance at Daisy. “You want to join us?”

“I’m going to get a little sun with the girls first,” she says, and as I peel off my shirt, she adds, “Plus, the view is better from this perspective.”

I wiggle my eyebrows and flex my pecs before setting down my beer and diving smoothly into the water, only to pop my head up and be slammed with a pool noodle. Wading over to my trusty unicorn steed, I collect a green foam weapon along the way and join the fray, which is now an all-out war.

I only discover Chord’s so far undefeated when I unseat him from his dolphin and everybody cheers.

And that’s how it starts. An ordinary summer afternoon in the Sonoma sun. Daisy laughing. Ollie laughing. Me laughing too.

Somewhere between the pool noodles and the cheers, I stop wondering whether I belong here. That’s the afternoon I realize I’m finally home.

Epilogue

DAISY

Fifteen eleven-year-old boys make a lot of noise. Add my entire family and a few close friends, plus a truckload of sugar and the mobile parkour course, and noise doesn’t begin to cover it. But I love it, and I’m laughing as I escape inside, leaving Ollie’s birthday party behind me in the backyard of the barn house.

“It’s chaos out there,” I say, closing the heavy slider door and cutting off the shrieks and shouts. I sweep past the long dining table, loaded with half-eaten plates of food, and round the counter into the kitchen. “But he’s having a good time.”

“He’s having the best time,” Beau agrees distractedly before he straightens from the birthday cake. There’s dissatisfaction on his face and a green frosting-coated spatula in his hand. “I can’t get this right.”

I scan the three-tier cake that Beau insisted on making without any help. It’s tall and round, if a little lopsided, with three shades of green frosting to give the look of rolling hills. The black horse on top is Pony Noir.

“It looks great to me.” I scoop a little frosting from the spatula and lick it off my fingertip. “Ollie’s going to love it.”

“I want it to be perfect,” Beau mutters, bending over the dessert again. “I want this entire day to be perfect. Ollie’s never had a birthday party, so this one has to be an occasion he remembers.”

The deep groove between Beau’s brows alarms me, and I set a hand on his wrist before he tries to smooth away another line in the frosting. “This isn’t about the cake, is it?”

The look he gives me is guarded at first, but then his shoulders drop, and so do his defenses. He swipes a little frosting from the corner of my lip with his thumb, then sticks it in his mouth.

“I can’t stop thinking about the hearing,” he admits.

“Oh, sweetheart.” I smooth back his hair. “Talk to me.”

“It was too easy.” He leans back against the counter. “And for the most part, I’m relieved. I’m beyond grateful that the process wasn’t drawn out and hostile for Ollie’s sake, but…” Beau’s dark eyes become clouded with pain. “How the hell is that little boy supposed to get over the fact that his mother didn’t fight for him? Or that his grandparents didn’t care enough to challenge me? We walked into that courthouse, just you, me, and Ollie, and we walked out again the exact same way.”

I pry the spatula out of his fingers and set it aside, then take his hands in mine. Ollie’s guardianship hearing happened less than a week ago, and it was exactly as Beau describes—easy. That should be a good thing, but if I’ve learned anything trying to be a mother figure to Ollie these past six months and more, it’s that the life of a ten-year-old kid is usually more complicated than it seems.

“I know this is hard,” I tell him. “But this is the best outcome. We want to build a dependable home for Ollie, right? And you need full legal and physical guardianship to do that. Ollie needs that. And he wants to be here. He has a voice in this, too, and he spoke up when it mattered. Your nephew made it clear he wants to live with you.”

Beau’s mouth tips up a little as he toys with the daisy charms dangling from the bracelet on my wrist.

“With us,” he corrects, then adds, “I know you’re right. Doesn’t make me feel less guilty about getting my wish at the expense of Ollie having a relationship with his mother. Or less pissed off that my family is so fucked up.”

“Has Ollie said something to make you worry?” I ask.

Beau shakes his head. “Not yet, but I learned my lesson last summer when he ran away instead of talking about his feelings. I want to be prepared for his questions this time. Lead the conversation and have the answers when I need them, not be scrambling after the fact to catch up.”

“This might be something the two of you need to talk about with Amy,” I suggest gently. “I want to support you and say all the right things, but the situation is complex. Working through it with a psychologist might help you and Ollie process your conflicting emotions.”

Beau nods thoughtfully. “We have an appointment early next week,” he says. “I was hoping you might come too?”

I tighten my fingers around his. “I’d be honored.”

Tension melts from his muscles, and he leans down to kiss me. It’s soft and fleeting, but still makes my stomach flip.

The back door opens again, letting in a wave of laughter and music as well as Duke Montgomery. I’ve had hours to get used to the way he’s aged, but it’s been over a decade since I saw him last, and time has made its mark. Duke is still sturdy and strong, if a little thicker in the middle and grayer where his hair pokes out from under his hat. The lines on his face, deeper and more plentiful, speak of years spent laughing, and while it’s hard to know that the Montgomery family lived the last decade cocooned in happiness when my family did not, I know they deserve it, because Duke’s eyes haven’t changed. They’re as generous as I remember.

“I apologize,” he says when he sees me wrapped in Beau’s arms. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” Beau assures him. “Can I get you anything?”

Duke chuckles. “Oh, no. I’m fine. Just wanted to thank you again for inviting my granddaughters to Ollie’s party. The girls are having a wonderful time out there.”

“I’m glad,” I tell him. “We’re so happy you could make it.”

“Me too. You should’ve seen the delight on Joy’s face when we drove onto the property this morning. First time in nearly fifteen years!” He shakes his head with a heaving sigh. “Sad, too, of course, realizing that the last time we were here, your parents were too. Doug and Jacqui were good people, Daisy. I loved and respected them very much, and it’s hard not to miss them on days like this.”

I blink back the sting in my eyes and focus instead on the warmth in Duke’s words and the comfort of being near someone who knew my parents as well as he did.

“Thank you,” I say. “I miss them too. And it might be selfish of me to say so, but it’s part of the reason I hope we’ll see more of each other. I feel closer to them with you in the room.”

Duke’s smile is fatherly, and my throat tightens. “I’d like that a lot,” he says.

Beau’s arms tighten around me, and the older man hesitates, appraising us with shrewd eyes.

“I’m glad I found you alone,” he says. “I wanted to clear the air about the job last summer. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I sensed a little unease when we arrived, and I want to assure you there’s no need for it.”

It’s almost alarming to see Duke so serious, that’s how jovial he is by nature. I round the counter to pull out a stool for him to sit. He takes it while I hop onto the one beside him.

“You’re right,” Beau says. “I let you down, and I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” I add. I glance at Beau, and the last three years of our life seem to pass in just one look. The heady first days. The devastating middle. The hopeful new beginning that was hard won and not without fallout. “It’s as much my fault as anyone’s, and the last thing we wanted to do was disappoint you.”

This time, Duke’s sigh is a different kind of sad. “Joy and I have five kids about your age, and we support them as best we know how through the hard days as well as the good,” he says. “And I know I’m not a father to either one of you, so I hope you’ll forgive me if what I’m about to say steps over a line of propriety, but I’m proud of you. You did a hard thing, but it was the right thing.”

Beau and I exchange a look of surprise.

“But—”

“No buts.” Duke cuts off Beau’s protest with a lifted hand. “I don’t know your father, Beau, and it’s been a long time since I shared a drink or a conversation with Doug Davenport, but I knew that man as well as I knew my own brother. And I know how Doug felt about family. If he were here to give you kids advice, I wager it’d be the same as I’m about to give you now. Family comes first. Always. It’s the rule I live by and the rule your dad lived by too.” Duke looks at me earnestly. “No job is worth it if it means losing the people you love. Love—true love like the kind you two have here, the kind your parents had—is the answer every time.”

I swallow thickly. “Thank you, Duke.”

Beau clears his throat. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Duke nods gently. “You’re welcome. And if it makes you feel any better, Emberfield is doing just fine. It would’ve been wonderful to have you join us, young man, but you’re better off at Silver Leaf, and we’re happy for you.”

“I appreciate that,” Beau says. “Really. Thanks.”

“No need to thank me.” He hefts his bulk off the stool and stands with his hands on his hips. “Now, onto more important matters.” He tips his head at Beau’s handmade masterpiece. “Are we ready for the cake?”

“I don’t know,” I say, deferring to Beau. “Are we?”

Beau takes a deep breath as he considers his work, then releases it with a nod that feels like the endpoint on a pep talk.

“We’re ready,” he says, picking up the platter and balancing it carefully in two hands. “Let’s do it.”

BEAU

I breathe a sigh of relief as the last of Ollie’s party guests starts the engine of their SUV, then winds their way down the drive and out of sight. It’s taken work for Ollie to make friends at his new school, and a knot of worry unravels as I realize today is done and it went off without a hitch.

I squint toward the horizon and estimate another two hours until sunset. Enough time to wind the kid down before bed. I hope. He’s got to be at least as exhausted as I am.

As I step back inside the house, a swell of familiar sounds envelops me. Daisy’s brothers and sisters are still here, and as tired as I am, the lazy hours after big celebrations are my favorite part of being part of a real family.

I wander into the kitchen, where Finn and Dylan are clearing away the dirty plates and empty cups.

“Thanks,” I tell them as I swipe up the empty cake platter and set it in the sink. “But you guys don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind,” Dylan says, drying his hands on a dish towel, then tossing it aside.

“Me neither,” Finn adds. He’s got a soft cotton sling wrapped around his massive torso, his sleeping newborn daughter tucked tightly against his chest. “And we were filling time waiting for you to come in.”

“Why’s that?”

Finn grins. “We’ve got a surprise for Ollie, and we didn’t want you to miss it.”

I look around for Daisy and Ollie. My nephew’s sitting on the floor of the living room, surrounded by stacks of gifts and torn-up wrapping paper. Izzy’s right beside him, helping sort the toys and books into stacks. Charlie, Violet, Rosie, and Poppy are gathered round to watch, oohing and aahing at all the right moments.

“Where’s Daisy?” I wonder. “And Chord?”

Dylan pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the screen. “They’ll be here in two minutes.”

I quirk a suspicious eyebrow. “Daisy’s in on this surprise?”

Dylan’s grin is wide beneath the twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, yeah. So come on. Let’s head out back to see it.”

I’m trying to keep my curiosity under control as Finn nods to the girls in the next room. At his signal, they start moving, pulling the kids to their feet and ushering them through the kitchen. There’s a buzzy anticipation in the air, coy smiles floating on high energy. Izzy twirls and leaps out onto the back porch, and I deduce that everyone’s in on the surprise except me and Ollie.

“What’s going on?” Ollie asks, taking my hand as we’re swept out of the house.

“I don’t know, buddy,” I admit. “But we’re about to find out.”

We pile onto the porch, which isn’t far enough, apparently, because the wave of Davenports deposits us farther out on the lawn. I scan the yard over everyone’s heads, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary that I can see, unless you count the remnants of today’s party. Balloons and streamers strung up on every tree. A handful of rogue paper plates we missed on the first round of cleanup. Lines worn into the lawn where little feet ran around the parkour course and played every party game I could think of.

“Did you have a good day?” I ask Ollie.

“I had the best day!” he says. “Thank you.”

I squeeze his little hand. I might have never had a birthday party at his age, or any age, and maybe today was as much for me as it was for him, but all I wanted at the end of it was to see that smile on his face.

“You’re welcome,” I reply, then look around the yard again. “Now, what is your Aunt Daisy up to?”

At that moment, she rounds the house with Chord beside her. There’s a lead rope in her hand, and Pony Noir is on the other end of it. My heart lurches at the sight of him. This can’t be what I think it is…

Violet watches me and Ollie with tears in her eyes, which is a dead giveaway that this is, in fact, exactly what it looks like.

The black gelding gleams, his coat freshly brushed and his hooves buffed. His mane and tail are trimmed and combed, and his tack is brand new.

Ollie looks up at me uncertainly. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure,” I say, not wanting to assume anything but knowing it’s well within reason to believe the Davenports are about to do something incredibly generous for my nephew today.

A gentle hand nudges us forward, and I tug Ollie toward Daisy and Chord. The hockey player’s mouth is doing that twitchy smile thing, and Daisy’s beaming like a ray of light.

“So, Ollie,” Chord says, crouching down to meet the boy’s eyes. “Your aunts and uncles wanted to give you something special for your birthday, and we talked a lot about it, trying to decide on the perfect present. In the end, there was only one gift we could agree on.”

Ollie’s eyes grow wide, and I can see his hope rise. It’s also very plain how vulnerable that sensation makes him feel.

“What is it?” he whispers.

Chord glances at Daisy, then at me, as he rises. I try to catch Daisy’s attention, silently asking her for answers, and she only grins harder.

“Ollie?” she says.

“Yes, Aunt Daisy?”

“We know how much you love Pony Noir, and he loves you too. You’re his best friend, and I’ve seen how dedicated you are to taking good care of him. So if it’s okay with Uncle Beau, we’d like to give you Pony Noir for your very own. What do you say?”

Ollie makes a sound, a whimper deep in his throat, and his fingers tighten around my hand. He looks up at me, tears in his eyes. “Can I have him? Please?”

I blink back the emotion welling up in my chest. “Yes,” I say, voice cracking. “Of course you can.”

It’s too much for the little guy, and he bursts into sobs, throwing his arms around my legs as I pat his back and grimace apologetically at the family. “Big day,” I say by way of explanation.

“Well, it’s about to get a little bigger,” Rosie says, smiling softly.

She’s cradling little Aria in her arms now, and I look around for her husband.

“Why? Where’s Finn?”

Rosie’s smile widens, and she tips her head toward something past my shoulder. “Right there.”

I spin just as Daisy’s brother leads an unfamiliar quarter horse into the yard. The new gelding is sturdy and tall at around sixteen hands at the withers, with a sooty buckskin coat and powerful hindquarters.

I love him at first sight.

Daisy hands Chord the lead rope for Pony Noir, then takes the horse from Finn and moves closer to me. Her eyes are glassy now, though joy shines through her tears.

“And this guy is for you,” she tells me. “If you’ll have him.”

“I—” I need to stop to clear my throat, and I do it with a glance around. Dylan stands with Poppy hard against his side and Izzy on his hip. Rosie rocks the baby, and Finn takes his place beside them. Violet and Charlie stand shoulder to shoulder. Chord with Pony Noir. Ollie, who’s peeled himself from my leg and gone to his horse, stroking his long nose with a practiced hand and watching the new gelding with his mouth in a little O. And Daisy, offering me the lead rope, her cheeks red and eyes bright, like giving me a horse—the first I’ll ever get to call my own—could possibly give her more joy than it gives me.

“I don’t know what to say,” I admit.

“Say yes,” she says.

I swallow thickly and accept the rope. “Yes,” I say quietly. “And thank you.”

Daisy throws her arms around my neck. “You’re welcome.”

I nuzzle into her hair, breathing her in and feeling so much gratitude, then step back and look around. “Thank you, everyone. This is unbelievably generous, and you really didn’t have to—”

“We wanted to,” Chord cuts in, and I return his nod with one of my own.

“What’s his name?” Izzy asks.

“I’m not sure.” I turn to Daisy with a wry smile. “But I can’t wait to find out.”

She feigns innocence. “Why are you looking at me like that? I didn’t name him anything. I thought you should have the honor.”

“Hmm.” I move around the horse, running my hand over his coat and my eyes over his muscled frame, admiring his strength and shape. The inky cast to his buckskin color and the subtle silvery dapple over his chest and shoulders. Like the stars in the night sky over Banff.

“I think I’ll call him Polaris.”

“Polaris?” Ollie echoes. “What does that mean?”

“It means north star,” Daisy answers, but she’s looking at me. “It’s how you know you’re in the right place. Moving in the right direction.”

“It’s how I know I’m home,” I say before I kiss her.

The kiss lingers for as long as I can make it last with her family as our audience, and when I draw back, there’s a liquid warmth in Daisy’s hazel eyes.

“Thank you,” I whisper again, heart racing and chest swelling with all the things I get to call mine. This woman. A sweet little boy. A horse I never knew I needed. A home I never dreamed possible. A family I never dared to hope for.

“You’re welcome,” Daisy whispers back.

“Hey!” Ollie says. “Can we take Pony Noir and Polaris for a ride?”

I tuck Daisy close against my side and look around the yard, sparing a regretful glance at the magnificent animal beside me and wishing I didn’t have to put responsibility first.

“Tomorrow,” I tell him. “After we’ve cleaned up this place and you’ve had something other than sugar for dinner.”

“Actually, we’re going to take care of that,” says Poppy.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Daisy lifts up onto her toes and bites her bottom lip with repressed glee. “Chardonneigh’s tacked up. The three of us are going on a sunset ride around Silver Leaf.”

“We’ll put the house in order while you’re gone,” Violet adds.

“And I’ll send up dinner from the restaurant, so you don’t need to worry about that,” Dylan says.

“Just forget about all this and enjoy yourselves,” Charlie says.

Ollie’s in the saddle before I can argue, and like he can sense my impatience to feel his broad back beneath me, Polaris nudges me with an insistent nose. Daisy grins harder.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I agree. “Let’s do it.”

The party breaks up for the second time today, this time the Davenports drifting away and leaving me alone with Daisy and Ollie in the yard. Daisy leads Pony Noir while I guide Polaris back to the stable to collect Chardonneigh, and she watches me as I mount my new horse for the first time.

I’ve grown to feel at home at Silver Leaf. Six months with a family around me is a long time when I’ve never had it before. The barn house feels like mine. I feel less like a visitor at the main house. I’ve taken over most of the stable operations and feel a sense of pride and ownership I’ve never felt working at other ranches. I’m in a good place. I’m happy.

But the first time I pull myself into the saddle of a horse that belongs to me is a moment I’ll never forget. Polaris feels right from the start, and I’ve got no doubt Daisy took great care finding the perfect horse for me. The gelding is athletic and responsive, with a light mouth and strong forward motion. He’s balanced but spirited with a sensible head, and he feels like a partner, an equal, from the first step. I’m so taken with him that I have to force myself to stay aware of Ollie as we set off in the direction of his favorite trail. Polaris accepts the pace, but I can sense his preference for a little more speed.

First chance I get, I’m taking him out, just the two of us. See what he can do.

“Do you like him?” Daisy asks, moving Chardonneigh a little closer.

“I do,” I tell her. “I like him a lot. Thank you, Darlin’. I’d say you don’t know what this means to me, but I think you do.”

“I do, and you’re very welcome.”

We ride as the sun edges toward the horizon, making the low clouds glow in breathtaking shades of orange and purple and pink. Pony Noir picks his way forward, with Polaris and Chardonneigh never more than a nose behind.

“I can’t think of a better way to finish my birthday,” Ollie says as we approach a curve in the trail, and beyond it, a slight rise. And beyond that, a world of possibility that can’t compare to all the possibilities waiting for us here at home.

“Neither can I,” Daisy agrees.

I breathe in the sweet Sonoma air and let it out again, the space it leaves behind filling with the swell of love and gratitude in my heart. “And neither can I.”

Thank you for reading Darlin’!

If you want to see what happens when Beau proposes to Daisy for the second time, visit my website at samanthaleighbooks.com/books/bonus-content or use the QR code to download your free bonus scene!

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Acknowledgments

Thank you for reading Darlin’. Beau and Daisy’s story fell from my fingertips and onto the page with the kind of joy and ease that makes the hard writing days worth it. I adore them so very much, and I hope they’ve made a place in your heart the way they have in mine.

Thank you to my friend and cover designer Echo Grayce. Your patience, creative genius, support, and humor keep me going more days than I can count.

Thank you to my beta readers Bryanna, Kat, Abbey, Katie, and Yondette. Special thanks to my sensitivity reader Rachel for your expert eye and guidance on the important and delicate subjects of grief and child abandonment. Every comment, note, insight, and correction made this book so much better. I appreciate you all more than I can say.

To my assistant Emily, thank you for your attention to detail, professionalism, kindness, and patience.

Thank you to my editing team, Dawn, Beth, and Kenzie. I’m constantly impressed by your talent.

Thank you as always to @dachshundsandbooks for being the creatrix behind my Instagram feed. You are a unicorn in this business and I’m so lucky I found you.

Thank you Mindy Menotti for supporting me with content and kindness from day one. You’re amazing.

Thank you to my dedicated team of clever content creators. The love and support you give to me and my books is beyond generous and I’m so lucky to have you.

Shout out to @the.apollon.arts, @zyulla_, and @michillart for creating incredible character art for this book.

Thank you to the colleagues I’m honored to call my friends: Stephanie Archer, Samantha Skye, Sharon Woods, Meg Riley, and Em Hardy. And the many more who are only ever a DM, email, or voice note away. I appreciate you.

Thank you to Ellie at Love Notes PR for her promo expertise and every book influencer and reader who couldn’t wait to meet Beau and Daisy. Your reviews and encouragement are priceless.

Thank you to the incredible indie bookstores all over the world who support me and my work by adding my paperbacks to their shelves. You make my dreams come true.

Thank you to my husband and children. You are my world.

And finally, thank you to my readers for picking up Darlin’ and taking a chance on a new love story. I couldn’t do this without you.

xSam.

About the Author

Samantha Leigh is the author of hot and heartfelt small town romance with a fierce found family heart. She writes feel-good love stories about finding your way, healing what hurts, and happily-ever-afters that linger long after the last page.

Sam’s books are all about ordinary people finding extraordinary love, and not just the love of a partner but of friends and found family, too. Whether she’s writing about surfers or cowboys, all her stories explore the joy of belonging and finding a place to call home.

samanthaleighbooks.com