"Did you ever do it? Rodeo?"
"One season," he says. "Bull riding. Thought it'd be a thrill. And it was. But it wasn't me."
"Why not?"
He shrugs. "Too much noise. Too much pressure to be someone I wasn't. I needed something steadier. So I started working ranch jobs. Saved every dime, paid into the ranch bit by bit. Learned on the ground. One mistake at a time."
I glance over at him. There's something so grounded about the way he says it. He's not trying to impress me. Just telling the truth."
"That makes sense. You seem like someone who earns every inch."
He smiles faintly. "That's the goal."
We reach the part of the trail where the ground dips slightly, roots threading through the dirt like veins. My foot catches on one, and I stumble, coffee sloshing dangerously.
Before I can fall, his hand is on my elbow, steadying me. His grip is firm, warm. I reach out with my other hand to rest on his arm to steady myself.
"Got you," he says, his voice hoarse.
I freeze. His fingers linger. So do mine.
When I glance up, he's closer than I realized. The trees seem to go still around us, and my breath hitches.
He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair from my cheek, his thumb grazing my skin. It's the lightest touch. But it’s charged with electricity.
His eyes flick to my mouth. My heart thuds, slow and heavy—bracing for impact.
I think he's going to kiss me.
I want him to. I shouldn't, but hell, do I want him to.
He leans in slightly. His breath mingles with mine. I'm caught between leaning forward and running.
But then a voice shouts from across the trail.
"Asher!"
We both jerk back. A man with a fishing pole and a tackle box waves as he heads toward the dock.
Asher raises a hand. "Hey, Baxter."
I step away, adjusting my bag like it's the reason my heart's racing. My pulse is still loud in my ears. The moment is gone, but the feeling lingers as I try to steady my nerves.
We keep walking, slower now. Our shoulders don't brush, but they come close.
Neither of us says anything for a few minutes. Then I speak up. "That was almost..."
"Yeah."
I take a shaky breath. "This is complicated."
He nods. "But some things are worth the mess."
He tells me about Duke, the old horse who injured himself. About how he called the new vet, and how the guy surprised him. He laughs a little when he talks about how Finn and Zach showed up right on cue. There's something tender in the way he talks about his brothers, about the land. It's not just where he works. It's who he is.
I tell him about Emma's pancakes and bedtime giggles. About how she told me I was the brave one. His smile deepens when I talk about her. That smile alone can melt my mom heart when he truly seems interested in my daughter. That's the smile you don't see on the other end of the text messages late at night.
We turn around at the county park on the lake and head back to the diner. The sun is higher now, and the day is stretching open before us. Light sparkles off the windshield of a nearby truck, and for a second, everything feels like possibility.