CHAPTER 5
LARK
“One errand," I announce, slinging my tote over my shoulder. "Fifteen minutes. Twenty, tops."
Laurel is already in her swimsuit and cover-up, sunglasses perched on her head like a tiara, on the porch. "Lark, we’re heading to the pool in thirty."
"I know."
"Is thiserrandabout six-foot-four and covered in soot?" she says, smiling sweetly.
I groan. "It's asurprise, Laurel."
From inside the cabin Lyla yells, "It’s about your present, nosy."
"Oh." Laurel brightens, then schools her face. "I mean, proceed."
I tug my hat down and take off before she can run a fresh interrogation.
They both know something happened with Garrett last night, but I wouldn’t tell them, even over the long ride back to the ranch earlier. So they’ve been even more obnoxious than usual.
But as I step onto the path, I feel myself relax.
The whole ranch is already familiar. I already know which sections have ruts to avoid, which live oak drops acorns like littlegrenades, where the bluebonnets crowd up against the fence. I shouldn't know these things yet. I've been at ranches for months and not clocked half this much.
I push that thought off the edge of a cliff and keep walking.
The big double doors are open, the forge humming, and Garrett's at the workbench in his leather apron, head bent, polishing something small with a soft rag. He looks up when my boots hit the concrete, and his whole face softens and warms. If I wasn't already a goner, that would finish the job.
"Hey, cowboy."
He wipes his hands and his eyes drop to my mouth before I've crossed half the distance between us, and when I get close enough he curls a finger into the front belt loop of my jeans, tugging me the last step.
“Good afternoon, cowgirl.”
He gives me a short, soft kiss, as if he couldn't help himself, but also doesn't want to start something he can't finish.
Still, if given the chance, I’d climb him in a second.
"Sleep okay?" I ask.
"Not really." His mouth twitches. "You?"
"Not even a little."
He grins, and it’s actually kind of wicked. As if knowing he kept me up after we went our separate ways last night makes him happy.
I swat at his chest and he catches my hand and kisses it. Then he turns and reaches for a bundle on the bench, a square of dark blue cloth, folded carefully.
"Your belt buckle." He hands it to me and I peel back the cloth.
It's even better than I pictured.
There’s a quarter horse mid-stride worked in beautiful relief, mane flowing, with muscles under the hide. Twisting oak branches frame it, leaves tapered similar to that bracket on hiswall. And down in the lower right, tucked in like a secret, are her initials, L.D.
My eyes sting and I hate that. I blink fast.
"Garrett."