That's what this requires. Not force, not dominance—just the slow, grinding work of proving I'm not the man who hurt her before.
The irony isn't lost on me.
I spent half the night watching Lily through the gaps in her coverage—watching her walk through her house, make dinner, put on a movie, strip down in the bright light of her room like she was shedding armor. I saw the tension in her shoulders that never fully released even when she was alone.
She doesn't trust easily either. Can't blame her for that.
I didn’t stay to watch anything that might have happened after she stripped down. I sure fucking imagined it though.
The mare takes another step forward. Her nostrils flare, testing my scent. I don't move. Don't speak. Just let her decide.
“You planning to stand there all morning, or are you actually going to touch the horse?”
Luke's voice carries across the corral. I don't turn around—sudden movement will spook her, and I’m not going to lose the ground I’ve gained—but I hear the gate creak open and two sets of boots on packed dirt.
“She'll come when she's ready,” I say quietly.
“That's what you said an hour ago.” Jake's tone is dry but not unkind. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him lean against the fence rail to my left, careful to keep his distance from the horse. Luke mirrors him on the right.
The mare's ears swivel toward the new voices. She takes three steps back.
Fuck. Frustration bites at me, but I know it’s not only from the mare. I exhale slowly and lower my hand. “Emma left for the Circle H?”
“About twenty minutes ago,” Jake confirms. “Said she needed to go over some things with her foreman. She still hasn't decided what she wants to do with the place.”
“Hard to let go of your father's legacy,” Luke says. “Even when the legacy's complicated.”
Especially then, I think. The things we inherit aren't always the things we want.
The mare watches us from the far side of the corral now, her body angled toward the gate. Flight position. She's calculating whether we're worth the risk of staying.
“Fortunately, the insurance money for the ranch house is going to take some time to come through, even though it’s undisputedly arson,” Jake continues. “So she has time.”
Luke snorts, the wooden rail he’s stepping on creaking. “She’s making a baby. She has all the time in the world for everything else.”
I don’t need to glance at Jake to know how satisfied he looks. He’s had that expression since he got Emma back. It looks good on him.
“Kelly's still at Turner's place,” Jake says, shifting gears. His voice drops into operational mode—the tone that means we're not just talking anymore, we're briefing. “Surveillance confirmed he was there this morning. Went out to the north pasture around oh six hundred, came back an hour later.”
“Turner?” I ask softly, my eyes on the mare.
“Still no sign of him,” Luke answers. “But there's movement. More vehicles coming and going than there have been the past six weeks. Supply runs that don't match normal ranch operations. They’re ramping up.”
I feel the shift in my gut—the operational instinct that says a storm's building just over the horizon. Turner's smart. He doesn't move without reason, and he doesn't increase activity unless he's preparing for something. “Timeline?”
“Unknown.” Jake sounds tight. “Could be days. Could be weeks. But it feels close.”
The mare takes a tentative step forward again. Her eyes are locked on me. I stay perfectly still.
“Hendricks called again,” Luke says. “He suggested meeting next week about contracting our services.”
“That makes it, what? Three times he’s called in as many weeks?” Jake asks.
“He’s got a job he says requires our particular skills.”
“What kind of job?” Jake sounds more suspicious than interested.
“The kind that pays well and doesn't ask questions.” Luke's tone is carefully neutral. “He didn't give details over the phone, but he mentioned it's time-sensitive.”