Page 63 of Her Saltwater Cowboy

The room was still, the only sound the ticking of the grandfather clock down the hall.

“I wanted you to know,” Ace continued, voice softer now, “that when I think about this ranch—its future—I think of you. Not Rafael. Not your two brothers either. They’ve chosen lives far off from here.”

Chance’s heart kicked hard against his chest.

“I have more to say on what I’ve observed,” Ace said. “I see how you handle people. How you lead when no one’s looking. That means more to me than anything you could tell me to my face.”

Chance swallowed against the sudden tightness in his throat.

“You’ve grown into a man your mama would be proud of.” Ace looked him square in the eyes. “And she’d be proud to see you take the reins from me.”

“You’re talking like you’re leaving.”

“I’m talking like a realist who is being smart with however much time the good Lord gives me.”

Chance tamped down the rise of emotion in his chest. “You’ve got plenty of time.”

Ace smiled, and there was something in his expression—calm, knowing, maybe even peace. “That’s not up to me. But whatisup to me is making sure I don’t leave things unsaid.”

The quiet that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable.

“And another thing,” Ace added after a pause. “Willow.”

Chance snapped up his gaze to meet his father’s.

“You think I haven’t noticed?”

Chance rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah … it’s complicated.”

“What’s so complicated about falling in love?” Ace said with a small chuckle. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. And how she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching.”

Chance didn’t respond, but he felt every word of that.

“She’s good for you,” Ace said simply. “Softens your edges. Grounds you. Reminds you to smile every now and again. Your mother did that for me too.”

“She’s … well, there’s things I’m still trying to figure out.”

“You never will,” Ace said with that deep chuckle. “It’s not worth trying because just when you think you’ve got her all figured out, she’ll?—”

“Turn on me?”

Ace’s forehead bunched. He wagged his chin side to side. “No, no, no, son. That’s not what I meant. She’ll show you a whole new side of her, and you’ll be rocked to the core all over again.”

Chance met his father’s gaze head on, something unspoken passing between them.

“I don’t know what her story is,” Ace continued. “Don’t need to. But I see her working hard. Earning her keep. Loving this place—and, I suspect, you. That tells me plenty about her.”

Chance cleared away the lump in his throat with a cough. “This talk?” He nodded, acknowledging Ace. “Means everything, Dad.”

Ace rested against the cushioned back of his chair. They sat together, quietly listening to the beat of that old clock and the occasional rustle of dry oak leaves swirling around outside.

Eventually, Ace shifted in his chair and let out a harsh yawn, the back of his fist against his mouth. “That’s enough sentiment for one evening,” he said. “Go on. I need my rest.”

* * *

The following night, the tide had just begun to retreat as all four horses made their slow descent onto the sand. Crisp and clean salt air, tinged with eucalyptus and sea spray, greeted them. Hooves left deep prints in the wet shoreline, and the sun hovered just above the horizon, casting a fiery glow over the Pacific.

Ace had given the outing his blessing this evening, waving them off from the porch where his nurse had brought him out in a wheelchair. “Ride easy,” he’d said with his usual gruff smile. “And don’t let Bella talk you into galloping barefoot through the surf again.”

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