Page 35 of Her Saltwater Cowboy

He lifted his chin, squinting into the noonday sun. “Sometimes I mind the remembering.”

Willow sighed, a small nod of agreement. “That’s fair.”

After a beat of quiet, Chance glanced at the basket. “I don’t suppose you could spare another one of those.” His mouth was already watering at the thought of the sugar-dusted bread.

Willow handed him a scone, arching a brow as he took it.

“Wait,” he said, holding it up for inspection. “You made this one, right?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Only if it’s hiding another raw center. I’m still in recovery.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips.

He took a bite anyway, chewed, then gave her a solemn look. “Worth the risk.”

Willow shook her head, laughing now, and the sound of it settled deep in his chest—warm, familiar, like something he hadn’t realized he’d missed until it came back. He watched her a few seconds longer, laughter still lighting her eyes.

Yeah.

He was in trouble, all right.

* * *

Willow sat cross-legged on a woven blanket just outside Bella’s garden fence, an iPad open and balanced on her lap, the notes app already filled with snippets of her findings.

They’d just returned from wandering between rows of olive trees, touching the bark and silvery leaves, and taking photos with their phones. Many of the trees showed signs of new growth, though not all had.

Seabiscuit yawned. Bella lay next to her pup, elbows propped, flipping through the pages of an old botanical reference book she had found in a shop downtown.

“Says we should have no trouble getting them to produce again.” Willow tapped her screen and held it out for Bella to see. “Olive trees like these thrive in full sun and well-drained soil. It’s probably why they’re all still standing.”

“So amazing.”

“Most of these appear to be Arbequina,” Willow said, “which are pretty typical in the warmer parts of California.”

Bella rolled onto her side and pointed at a sketch in her book. “Some of the trees look like these with their smaller leaves. I read that they are very hardy and could survive a frost.

“Yes, those are Koroneiki trees,” Willow said. “Someone must’ve brought a planting over from Greece.”

“Greece!”

Willow laughed. “Hate to break it to you, but most of the olive trees out here were brought from places like Greece, Italy, and Spain. Someone even brought cuttings from France.”

“Wow.” Bella rolled over onto her back, shading her eyes as she looked toward the sky. Seabiscuit padded over to inspect. After giving Bella an indignant sniff, he plopped back down and went to sleep.

“Here, I think I’ve identified this last one.” Willow tapped to flip a page of her iPad. “Arbosana. It's slower to mature but produces sweeter olives. I think Mae chose these on purpose.”

“Because they complement each other so well.”

“Exactly.”

Bella whistled low. “How did we ever get so lucky, Willy?”

“I’ve been called a lot of things, but Willy’s a new one.” She gave Bella a pointed look.

“I like it.”

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