Page 54 of Her Saltwater Cowboy

“He hangs out in the grove. Shows up when the weather’s warm.”

“You named it?”

“Well, yeah. He’s a turkey vulture, and he’s harmless.”

Bella shook her head. “He hissed. At us.”

“He does that.” Chance stepped toward the tree and clapped his hands. “Go on, Gary. Get.”

The vulture blinked, shifted, and launched itself into the air with a gust of wings that stirred dust and leaves alike. It soared once overhead, then glided out of sight.

Willow let out a breath and bent to steady herself on her knees.

“You okay?” Chance asked.

She stood and swatted at her pants. “Yes. I mean—no. That was horrifying.”

Chance looked between the two of them, hands on his hips. “I swear, this is the second time today I’ve had to sprint across the ranch like my hair was on fire. You ladies trying to give me a heart attack now too?”

“We thought we were being hunted!” Bella said, brushing off her shirt.

“You were standing under a bird,” he said. “A bird that eats roadkill. You arenotroadkill.”

Willow gave him a flat look. “Still. He hissed.”

Chance cracked a grin, then wiped it away. “Next time just holler ‘Bird!’ I thought someone fell off a roof.”

“Well, we’re very sorry for disrupting your cardio routine,” Willow said, voice dry.

He huffed. “No apology needed. I suppose I should be expecting it daily now, now that you entrepreneurs will be spending your days out here in the wilds.”

“Maybe if your bird wasn’t a straight-up villain from a Disney movie …”

He tipped his head. “You meanGary?”

“Stop saying his name like we’re supposed to be friends!”

Back at the house, after the boxes were dropped and Bella disappeared toward her cabin, Willow sat on the porch steps, sipping lemonade and rubbing the back of her neck. Chance joined her a few minutes later, the sun dipping low over the barn roofs.

“I’m going to have nightmares,” she muttered, cradling her glass. “Buzzards and cliffs and Disney witches.”

“You’ll be fine,” he said. “I hear Gary’s not one to hold a grudge.”

Willow laughed in spite of herself. “Seriously though, thank you.”

“For what? Evicting the neighborhood bird?”

“For running,” she said quietly. “For showing up.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

Willow watched the light shift across the yard, painting the gravel into a burnished end-of-day bronze. The morning had started with confusion and fear, but somehow, everything had held steady.

Ace showed improvement. The barn still stood. The hands still worked. And Chance Sutter had stepped up and proved—without a word of bragging—that he could carry the weight.

“You did good today,” she said again, softer this time.

He glanced sideways at her. “You too. Even with all the hollerin’.”

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