Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
ROSE
The next morning, by seven, I’d already done the chores. Feed, water, a quick check on Starlight’s hoof, and enjoyed the five minutes I’d spent with Cassiopeia afterward.
Now I was clean, mostly. Hair in a damp twist, hoodie swapped for a fitted long-sleeve and jeans that didn’t have manure on them.
I stepped out of my cabin and pulled the door shut behind me.
The keypad blinked once, like it was trying to be cute. I wasn’t in the mood for cute.
I pressed the lock button and listened to the deadbolt engage: clean and final.
I started toward the main building, keeping my steps steady even though my brain tried to replay the image of a Scottish stranger in my cabin.
He thought it was guest quarters, I reminded myself. He apologized. He left.
The problem wasn’t him.
The problem was the fact that I’d screamed like a horror movie extra and then had the audacity—the audacity—to notice he was attractive.
Not my proudest moment.
“Morning!” Kaya’s voice cut across the yard before my thoughts could get worse.
She stood outside the main building with the look on her face that said she was entirely too awake for this hour.
“You look like you fought a bear,” she said.
“I fought a checklist,” I replied. “I won.”
Kaya’s mouth curved. “Barely.”
She fell into step beside me as we walked inside, warm kitchen air swallowing us the second we shut the door.
“Breakfast plan?” she asked.
“Simple,” I said. “Eggs, bacon, fruit, oatmeal, coffee. No drama. No complicated guest requests. No—”
“No filming staff,” Kaya finished, deadpan.
I glanced at her.
She grinned. “Just making sure we’re aligned.”
We moved through the kitchen in sync. Kaya pulled pans and plates like she had a map in her head. I cracked eggs and tried not to think about the fact that the Scots were already awake, voices drifting in from the sitting room.
Then, because the universe enjoyed timing, Graham walked in.
Baseball cap. Hoodie. Looking like he’d slept about as well as I had, which was not at all satisfying to notice.
He stopped when he saw me. Guilt crossed his face, quick and obvious. A tightening around the eyes, the way his hand stalled on the doorframe before he committed to entering.
Good.
“Morning,” he said, voice deeper than it had any right to be.
My pulse kicked. Once. Brief. Absolutely meaningless.
It annoyed me anyway
“Morning,” I replied, neutral, turning back to the stove, avoiding his gaze like eye contact was an invitation.
Kaya’s eyes flicked between us once, fast, and I caught the corner of her mouth twitching.
I shot her a look that said don’t you dare.
She looked delighted.
Graham lingered near the doorway like he didn’t know where to put himself. He cleared his throat. “I’ll… stay out of the way,” he said.
“That would be best,” I said, still not looking at him.
“I’m sorry,” he added, quieter.
I turned slightly, not fully, just enough to make my point land. “Don’t apologize. We’re past it.”
His jaw tightened. “Aye,” he murmured. “Right.” He backed out of the kitchen like it was a crime scene.
Kaya waited until he was out of earshot before she said, sweetly, “So.”
I didn’t look up. “No.”
Kaya leaned her hip against the counter. “You’re going to make it through today without stabbing anyone?”
“Yes.”
“Even the Scottish one?”
“I’m not stabbing anyone,” I said through my teeth. “He made a mistake.”
Kaya’s eyebrows lifted. “And?”
“And,” I repeated, “we’re not talking about it.”
Kaya hummed. “Okay. We’ll file it under: ‘Rose is fine.’”
“I am fine.”
“Sure,” she said, and started plating bacon like she wasn’t watching me at all.
We served breakfast. I switched into host mode, polite and friendly enough to make people comfortable without inviting them into my actual life.
The Scots were easy, honestly. Excited. Full of questions about the mountains and the horses and whether Colorado always looked like a postcard.
Dex did most of the talking on behalf of the group. He had that smooth, calm competence that made people relax without realizing it.
Graham sat a little apart, eating like he didn’t taste anything, cap pulled low. He didn’t look at me much, but I could feel him tracking me across the room. It made my skin feel too tight.
Which was inconvenient.
Denise swept in at eight-thirty with her laptop and her bright smile, dropping a stack of papers on the counter.
“Good morning, everyone!” she chirped. “You’re all set for your riding assessment at nine. I printed extra copies of the waivers, just in case.”
She turned to me, softer. “Also, I reminded everybody last night at dinner. No filming staff without consent. They understand.”
I kept my expression neutral, but I appreciated that Denise had handled it without making it weird. She could be a lot, but she was good with guests. She liked people. She liked making things feel seamless.
“Thanks,” I said.
Denise beamed. “Of course. Oh, and the locks are all working normally now. Taylor double-checked the firmware update.”
My eyes flicked to her. “Good.”
“No more surprise visitors,” Denise added with a little laugh, already repackaging a security failure into a cocktail party anecdote.
I gave her a tight nod and started clearing plates, because if I opened my mouth, what came out wouldn’t be thanks.
At nine, I gathered the four of them outside and led them toward the arena. I fitted helmets, checked boots, and delivered the basic rules.
“If you’re inexperienced or nervous,” I said, “tell me. Nervous riders get calmer horses. Nervous riders who pretend they’re fine get a horse that will humble them publicly.”
Dex grinned. Olivia looked unfazed. Jamie suddenly looked less brave.
Graham said nothing, but his weight settled lower in his stance, hips dropping, shoulders loosening, the way people stand when they’ve spent real time around animals and know you don’t approach with tension in your body.
I noticed. Filed it. Moved on.
We walked into the arena, and I watched how each of them approached the horses. Dex had quiet confidence, kept a respectful distance. Olivia came to hers like a negotiation, assessing before committing. Jamie hung back, arms crossed, trying to look casual and failing spectacularly.
When I got to Graham, I kept it simple.
“Riding experience?”
“I’ve ridden,” he said.
“That’s not an answer.”
A flicker at the corner of his mouth, like he respected that I wasn’t letting him slide.
“Grew up around horses during holidays,” he said, quieter. “I’m not… useless.”
I should’ve rolled my eyes. Instead, my brain offered an image of him as a boy somewhere cold and green and wide, learning to sit a saddle like it was part of his DNA, and I resented the hell out of my imagination for having the time.
“Fine,” I said briskly. “You’re on Brutus.”
Kaya’s eyebrows lifted slightly behind him.
Brutus was a big bay gelding with opinions. Not unsafe, but stubborn. He tested riders who tried to bully him and made confident people work for it. He had a special talent for making arrogant men look silly in front of an audience.
Graham nodded. “Aye.”
“You’ll listen to him,” I warned. “Or he’ll make you look like a jackass.”
Graham’s mouth curved into a real smile, quick and dangerous. “Wouldn’t be the first one.”
That line surprised me. I didn’t have a response for it that wouldn’t sound like flirting, so I walked away.
He approached Brutus the right way. Hand out, palm open, letting the horse come to him. No sudden movements. No nervous energy. Just steadiness. Brutus lowered his head, sniffed Graham’s palm, then exhaled through his nostrils. The soft, slow exhale that meant okay, you’ll do.
My jaw tightened. Brutus never accepted riders this quickly. He usually tested people for a solid ten minutes before deciding they were worth his time, and half the riders he never decided at all.
Graham swung into the saddle with ease. Balanced. Natural. No awkwardness. No showing off.
Damn it.
I ran them through basics in the arena: walk, stop, turns, a little trot for those who could handle it.
I corrected posture, reminded them to soften hands and keep heels down.
I repositioned Olivia’s hands three times until she stopped yanking the horse’s mouth.
I gave Jamie a quick lecture about “heels down” not being a suggestion.
Graham didn’t need correcting.
He rode Brutus like he understood him. He anticipated the horse’s stubbornness and met it with patience instead of force. When Brutus drifted, Graham adjusted with small cues from his legs, not the reins. When Brutus tested, Graham didn’t react with irritation or ego.
Brutus already respected him.
And I hated how much it impressed me, because being impressed was a step toward liking him, and liking him was not part of any plan I’d ever made.
After half an hour, I’d decided they were ready.
“Okay,” I said. “Enough running in circles. We can hit the trail now.”
Jamie actually clapped. Dex laughed at her. Olivia looked mildly relieved to stop trotting.
We headed out in a line with me in front, riding Cassiopeia. Kaya stayed near the back to support anyone who got nervous. The morning was bright, sun sharp against the mountains, but the air felt heavier than it should. Wind shifted through the trees in little impatient bursts.
The trail climbed gently through pines and aspens. This was my favorite stretch. Quiet enough that the horses relaxed, steep enough that inexperienced riders had to pay attention.
Brutus was a social trail horse. He liked to ride beside other horses, especially Cassiopeia, like her older calm authority steadied him.
So naturally, he drifted up beside me.
Which also put Graham beside me.
Exactly where I didn’t want him.
I kept my eyes on the trail, posture straight, voice clipped whenever I had to call back instructions.
Graham was quiet for a long stretch, and that was better. I didn’t need apologies. I didn’t need speeches. I didn’t need him trying to use charm as a lever.
Then, softly, he said, “Rose.”
My name in his accent did something irritating to my nerves.
“What,” I replied, not looking at him.
“I really am sorry about yesterday.”
I inhaled slowly through my nose. “We covered this in the kitchen.”
“I know, but—”
“Graham.” I turned enough that he could see my face and read it clearly. “I said we’re past it. That means we’re past it. If you keep bringing it up, it stops being an apology and starts being about making yourself feel better.”
He went quiet. Not wounded, but thoughtful. Like he was actually processing what I’d said instead of just waiting for his turn to talk again.
Good.
But silence had its own problems when a man was riding beside me, close enough that I could hear the creak of leather and the rhythm of his breathing.
Close enough to notice things I didn’t want to notice.
Like the way his hands held the reins, confident but gentle, the kind of contact that said I’m here but I’m not going to fight you for it.
Like the faint smell of clean soap and cold air every time the breeze shifted.
Silly. I told myself it was silly.
We reached a scenic overlook where the trees opened into a sweeping view of foothills and distant peaks. The group murmured appreciation. Jamie actually gasped, like Colorado was personally trying to impress her.
Phones came out immediately, of course they did, and I watched Jamie angle hers toward me and Cassiopeia against the skyline.
“Filming scenery is fine,” I said, keeping my voice even. “No filming staff. That was in your waiver.”
Jamie’s smile flickered, but she pivoted smoothly, panning toward the peaks instead. “Of course. Sorry.”
Dex shot her a look that promised a conversation later.
I turned Cassiopeia back toward the trail, letting the others snap their photos. The mountains didn’t mind being filmed. Neither did the horses.
I just wasn’t interested in becoming content.
“Did you build all this yourself?” Dex asked.
I hesitated. “I bought the land and built the ranch in phases.”
“On your own?” Jamie’s curiosity was genuine.
“Not alone,” I said. “Hank’s been here from the beginning. Kaya and Denise soon after. Contractors for the buildings. But the vision—yeah. That was mine.”
Dex nodded like it made sense. “Takes grit.”
The compliment landed before I could deflect it, warm and unexpected.
Graham didn’t speak. He just sat there on Brutus, listening, and that, more than anything, made me relax a fraction. He wasn’t performing. Wasn’t trying to fill the silence with questions or compliments. He looked like a man who understood what it cost to build something from nothing.
“And the horses?” Olivia asked.
I swallowed. “I breed selectively. Not for racing. Not for show. Temperament. For therapy programs. For horses that can handle people who are scared. Horses that help.” I paused. “And horses that need a little help themselves.”
The words felt too honest the second they left my mouth. I straightened in the saddle and gathered Cassie’s reins a half-inch shorter, the physical equivalent of changing the subject.
Graham’s voice came low beside me. “That’s a good thing.”
I didn’t look at him. “It’s work.”
“Aye,” he said. “But it’s good work.”
He sounded like he meant it. Not flattering, not performing, just a man stating a fact he believed, and that was harder to dismiss than charm. Charm I knew how to handle. Sincerity made me want to bolt.
I shifted in the saddle, focusing on the horizon.
Clouds had thickened in the west, darker now, moving faster than they should. The light had gone flat. Less sharp, more muted, the kind of change that meant the weather wasn’t asking permission.
My gut tightened. I knew this sky.
A storm was coming fast.