Page 57 of Her Saltwater Cowboy

Bella beamed. “Ooh, what’s going on here?”

“Ladies,” Chance said, his voice dripping with mock formality, “we present to you Lucille’s more respectable cousin—Olivia, the oil press.”

Willow raised an eyebrow. “That thing looks like it belongs in a museum.”

“Hey, lots of priceless artifacts in museums,” Chance said.

He handed her the jar of oil. She took it and held it up to the light. Then she gave it a swirl followed by a tentative sniff. “Oh, lovely.”

“It actually worked!” The tone of Bella’s voice rose.

“Sure did,” Chance replied. “We’ve got about two tablespoons of Topa Gold right here.”

Willow laughed softly, then handed the jar to Bella. “You did it.”

Rafael and Chance exchanged a look.

“Yep,” Chance said.

Bella blinked. “And without a fistfight.”

“Tastes better that way,” Willow said with a wink.

Bella linked her arm through her husband’s. “Amazing. The olive grove gets new life, the old press gets use again, and nobody throws any punches.”

“A Christmas miracle!” Willow said.

“In the spring!” Bella laughed.

Chance shook his head, taking the jar from her. “Oh, come on now.”

Rafael snickered.

Willow was still smiling, eyes on the oil. “This has become a dream I didn’t know I had.”

Chance looked at the jar, then out toward the grove, its narrow trunks casting long shadows across the late-day soil. “Then let’s see where it goes.”

Rafael nodded, his tone more practical. “Might be worth getting someone out here to test the soil. We can ask around about acquiring a commercial press, since this is more of a hobby one.”

Willow and Bella exchanged a look—not giddy, not wild-eyed, but grounded. Two women used to measuring hope bit by bit.

“We’ll think it through,” Bella said, careful but sure. “One step at a time.”

Willow tipped her gaze toward Chance. “But if we end up international oil baronesses, I’m not apologizing.”

He raised both hands. “Just save me a bottle for the kitchen.”

“You got it,” Willow said, reaching for the jar of oil in Bella’s hand. She looked to Chance. “Mind if I keep this?”

“It’s yours.”

Willow plunked it into her basket.

“We’re off to take a look at the grove and see what trees might need a little TLC,” Bella said.

Chance’s mind stirred. He wouldn’t mind if Willow stayed longer, but, of course, she had a short amount of time to do what was on her mind.

He cleared his throat, keeping his voice low. “Enjoy yourselves, ladies.”

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