Page 42 of Her Saltwater Cowboy

And all Chance did was stand there.

Willow dropped the rag she was using to mindlessly wipe down the clean counter. When it was clear that he’d gone mute, had nothing more to add other than to stand there with a disappointed expression on his face, she looked away.

She lifted her gaze again, resigned to her reality, only to watch the café doors flutter shut. And Chance was nowhere in sight.

* * *

By the time Chance entered the horse barn, the sky had deepened and a cool breeze had crept in from the west, likely sent by the sea itself. The air hung thick with animals and hay, dust and sweat.

He should’ve felt lighter. When he’d waltzed into the kitchen to down a glass of Willow’s lemonade, he knew in his heart that he’d shown up there for something altogether different than what he encountered.

Simply, to spend time with her.

It all changed in an instant when she shared her secrets with him. It had cost her something, and in some ways, it had cost him too. His heart thudded dully, quieted only by the crunch of gravel beneath his boots.

The barn door creaked softly in the wind. The horses rustled in their stalls, tails swishing, the woosh of hooves shifting in the straw as a lone figure tossed grains into bins.

Rats. He thought he’d be alone with his thoughts here.

Instead, Rafael was bent forward, working away, too focused and efficient to bother looking up at him. Every day that man surprised him.

A colt nickered and Chance paused, allowing his hand to rest on the animal’s forelock and down his nose as it sputtered in reply.

Chance paused there, considering Rafael, his work ethic on display. He hadn’t expected this from the kid who showed up years ago drunk, who made his mother cry.

A part of him had hoped to find a crack in his otherwise measured, calm demeanor. Maybe even poke the bear some himself.

Otherwise, he would have to expect that Rafael simply had slid right back into place here at the ranch, while he … still couldn’t seem to find his footing.

He lifted his chin. “You ever quit?”

Rafael didn’t react. Kept working, though he did tilt a look at him briefly. “Not until I’m done.”

Chance huffed out a chuckle. “You’re never really done though, right?”

“Wouldn’t say that.”

A quiet beat passed between them.

“This a new thing with you?” Chance asked. “Rafael Sutter—Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected?”

A brief grin flickered on Rafael’s face. “You always walk in with a chip on your shoulder?” he asked, scooping another shovelful of feed into the bin. “Or do you put it on all special for me?”

Chance eyed him. “Depends on the day.”

Rafael tossed the last scoop in and set the bucket aside. He straightened, leaning on the shovel handle. “So what kind of day are we having now?”

Chance reached the stall gate across from Rafael. Jaw tight, he leaned against it. Somewhere near the back of the barn, one of the younger colts let out a sputter, as if to saylights out, boys. It’s time for shut eye.

Finally, Chance spoke. “The strong work you’ve been doing has not gone unnoticed.”

Rafael’s brow lifted. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t expect to hear that?”

“Not from you.”

Chance pursed his lips and nodded. “Fair enough.”

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