Page 13 of Hard Bred

“What’s got you worried?” Logan asks, settling back against the wall. “The age difference?”

“That’s part of it.” I pick up a pair of pliers, turning them over in my hands just to have something to do. “She’s far closer to yourage than mine. Sometimes I look at her and think, Christ, what am I thinking? She’s got her whole life ahead of her.”

“And?”

“And she works for me. Every management book out there would call this a disaster waiting to happen.” I set the pliers down with more force than necessary. “What if it goes wrong? This ranch is her dream job—she’s told me that herself. I don’t want to be the reason she loses that.”

Logan considers this. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Rather you would be.”

“Those sound like excuses to me.” When I start to protest, he holds up a hand. “Hear me out. Yes, she’s significantly younger than you. But she’s a grown woman. She knows her own mind. And, sure, the work situation isn’t ideal. But, Dad, I see how you look at her. How she looks at you. That’s real.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Is it ever?” Logan picks up the wrench again. “Let me ask you something. When’s the last time you were this happy?”

The question stops me short. Because he’s right—I am happy. Happier than I’ve been in years.

“Look,” Logan continues, his voice gentle. “Life’s too short to let fear make your decisions. And for what it’s worth? Claire’s good for you. She makes you laugh. Gets you out of your head. Sierra and I see it every day.”

“You do?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s so obvious that you guys are good together.” He smiles. “And we’d love to have Claire and her grandmother over for Christmas. The more the merrier, right?”

Something in my chest loosens at his words. At the easy way he includes Claire in our family’s plans. “Thanks, son.”

When I extend the invitation to Claire later that day, her whole face lights up. She’s working with one of the mares, brushing out her winter coat, but she stops mid-stroke. “Really? You want us there?”

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it.”

She bites her lip, trying to contain her smile. “I’ll have to ask Gran, but…oh, Brady. I would love to spend Christmas with you.”

The snow starts innocently enough—just a few flakes drifting down as Claire and I finish our last chores. But by morning, the flurries have turned steady, and the weather report is using words likeblizzardandhazardous.

“Maybe it won’t be as bad as they’re forecasting,” Claire says, but I can hear the worry in her voice.

Soon, it gets worse. The snow falls faster, heavier, driven by an increasingly bitter wind. By nightfall, the ranch is blanketed in white, and the forecast is calling for another several feet of snow by morning.

I stand at my window, watching it come down. Each falling flake feels like another nail in the coffin of our Christmas plans. Theroad to town can be unreliable in good weather—in this, it would be idiotic to attempt it.

Claire calls the next morning, and I know what she’s going to say before she says it.

“There’s no way we can make it out there,” she says, her voice heavy with disappointment. “Gran can barely get down her front steps.”

“Don’t even think about trying,” I tell her, even though the words taste bitter. “It’s not worth the risk.”

Christmas morning is bright and cold, the sun turning the snow into a sea of diamonds. The twins are still too young to understand the holiday, but their wide-eyed wonder at the lights and all of the wrapped gifts makes everyone smile. Sierra outdoes herself with breakfast, and Logan makes a batch of hot chocolate from scratch.

I should be content. This is my family—my son, his wife, my grandchildren. We’re warm, we’re safe, we’re together. But there’s an ache in my chest that won’t ease, a sense of incompleteness I can’t shake.

It’s not even noon before I’m calling to check on Claire and her grandmother.

“We’re fine, you worrywart,” Claire says, laughing. “Gran’s got enough food stored up to survive an apocalypse, and the power’s still on. Stop fussing.”

“I don’t fuss,” I growl, but there’s no heat in it.

“You’re sweet,” she says softly. “I wish we were there, too.”

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