Page 5 of Curvy Girl and the Grumpy Cowboy

Jackson sits with his hat on his knee, staring out at the pasture. The sunlight catches in his hair, highlighting the silver at his temples. Something twists in my chest at the sight of him looking so at home on my porch.

"Ham and cheese or turkey?" I ask, setting the cooler down between us.

"Ham, if that's all right." He reaches for the sandwich I offer, our fingers brushing briefly. I pull back quickly, settling into my chair.

We eat in silence for a few minutes. It should be awkward, but somehow it's not. That was always our way—comfortable in quiet together. Cole used to tease us about it, saying we could have entire conversations without speaking.

"So," Jackson finally says, "equine therapy. You always talked about it, but I wasn't sure it was more than a dream."

I look at him sideways. "Dreams can become reality if you're willing to take risks for them."

He winces slightly, and I regret the barb immediately. It's too easy to fall into bitterness.

"The center in Seattle was incredible," I say, softening my tone. "We worked with kids with all kinds of challenges—physical disabilities, autism, trauma. The horses... you should see what happens when a child who hasn't spoken in years whispers their first words into a horse's ear."

His expression warms, and for a moment, I see the Jackson I fell in love with—the man whose gruff exterior hid a heart so tender it took my breath away.

"And now you're bringing it home," he says.

"Cedar Falls needs something like this," I reply, brushing crumbs from my lap. "And I missed my town. The mountains. The space to breathe."

What I don't say: I missed you. Every day. In ways that never seemed to ease with time.

"The Millers would be happy to see the place coming back to life," Jackson offers. "Especially with something that helps folks."

I nod, taking a sip from my water bottle. "That's the plan. We open in six weeks, once the renovations are done and the horses are settled. I've already got a waiting list of clients."

"Impressive," he says, and there's genuine admiration in his voice.

"What about you?" I ask, turning the conversation away from me. "How's the ranch?"

His face lights up the way it always did when talking about Covington land.

"Good. We expanded the cattle operation last year. Aaron's back from deployment for good now, helping with that side of things. And Vincent's little girl is getting big—riding her own pony now."

"And you?" I press. "Are you happy, Jackson?"

The question slips out before I can stop it, more revealing than I intended. His eyes meet mine, startled by my directness.

"I'm..." he begins, then stops, reconsidering. "The ranch is doing well."

Not what I asked, and we both know it.

A silence falls between us, heavier than before. In the distance, a meadowlark calls, the sound piercing and sweet across the open land.

"Why did you come back, Sarah?" he finally asks, his voice low. "Really?"

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze.

"Because this is where I'm supposed to be. It took seven years in Seattle to realize that Cedar Falls wasn't what was holding me back." I meet his eyes steadily. "It was never about the place, Jackson."

Understanding passes across his face like a cloud shadow. "Sarah—"

But I stand up, gathering our lunch wrappers. I'm not ready for whatever he's about to say. Not yet.

"I should get back to work," I say briskly. "And you have a sick horse waiting."

He rises slowly, settling his hat back on his head. "Right."

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