Chapter Two
Willow stepped into the barn and filled her nose with a deep breath spiced with hay. The soft nickers of horses wrapped around her like a welcome. She moved quietly down the center aisle, passing two stalls before stopping at the third.
The metal latch clicked, and Sundancer shifted, hooves tamping the straw. The moment Willow eased the door open, the mare bobbed her head and whickered low in her throat.
“Hi, girl.” Willow’s voice softened as she reached to smooth a hand down the horse’s sleek mane, her fingers finding the spot behind her ears that always made her melt.
Big brown eyes blinked at her, trusting, knowing. Willow slipped inside the stall and pressed her forehead to Sundancer’s warm hide.
Outside, the ranch was just waking. A few of the vets in the therapy program had already started their dawn chores, choosing to work early before heading into their sessions later in the day. Willow didn’t have much time before someone called on her—but for now, she let herself be selfish.
Sundancer stood steady, her breathing slow and deep. She was more than a horse—she was a therapy partner, a quiet healer who seemed to sense when someone just needed to borrow her calm.
Last night hadn’t given Willow much downtime. Between the bachelorette party and a midnight emergency involving a rugged ex-SEAL and a medical stapler, she could’ve used an energy boost that coffee alone couldn’t provide.
And she loved coffee.
Her mornings always started with choosing from a half-dozen blends and an expensive machine, paired with the ritual of picking a mug to match her mood. Her brothers sometimes beat her to making coffee or took the best mugs for themselves even though they teased her about having a hoarder problem.
But they didn’t understand—those small routines kept her grounded when the rest of her day spun out in ten directions at once.
Now, resting her cheek against Sundancer’s warm hide, Willow let herself draw in one deep, steadying breath. She needed the calm, because her to-do list stretched from sunup to well past dark.
The ranch came first—horses to care for or at least coordinate care with the veterans who pitched in. Then there were the livestock orders and supply runs.
She might not be a bodyguard like her brothers at Black Heart Security, but she still managed the calendar, handled paperwork and occasionally answered the office phone when things got hectic.
The therapy program for vets was the part of her day that mattered most. Sometimes she was hands-on with horse therapy, other times sharing a meal or joining an art session so no one felt left out.
And on top of it all, family. Her brothers, her sisters-in-law, her sweet little niece Navy. With Carson and Layne expecting, the clan was only growing.
That thought reminded her—she still hadn’t ordered decorations for the baby shower.
Sundancer shifted as Willow lifted her head. Footsteps echoed in the aisle, and her mare’s ears flicked toward the sound. Willow smoothed a hand over her horse’s side before stepping out to meet Zayne with a smile.
“Morning, Zayne. You’re right on time for our session.”
He tipped the brim of a brand-new cowboy hat, the crisp felt giving away that he wasn’t a ranch boy. Still, he wore it well enough.
“Miss Willow.” He reached for Sundancer’s lead, and together they walked out into the gray dawn.
By the time Zayne’s session wrapped up, the sun had burned through the mountain mist, though Willow’s head still throbbed—either from margaritas or the snow rolling in.
After turning Sundancer out to graze, she waved Zayne off with a grin. “Save me some blueberry cobbler at lunch.”
Inside the house, the kitchen buzzed with its own kind of morning routine. Gray crunched toast while Denver tried to juggle Navy on his hip—though she was more interested in stealing her uncle’s breakfast.
“Oh, look at you!” Willow swooped in, delighted by Navy’s gap-toothed smile and jam-smeared cheeks.
“She’s wearing more than she’s eaten,” Denver said with a laugh.
Willow reached for her niece, ignoring sticky fingers and gooey toast. “Come to Auntie Willow. We’ll get you a proper breakfast—and clean you up.” She shot Denver a look. “You’ve got a ten o’clock meeting, remember?”
“I remember,” he muttered. “I was just trying to convince Gray to watch her.”
“Can’t. I’m flying out tonight for Memphis.” Gray wiped his hands.
“You mean flying the jet,” Willow teased, knowing Gray missed being in the cockpit after retiring from the military.
Denver sighed, kissing Navy’s curls. “Maybe Layne can take her. Rhae’s booked solid and Navy’s too fussy today to sit in on the therapy sessions.”
Willow was already studying her niece’s flushed face. “She looks a little glassy-eyed. She might be coming down with a cold. I’ll walk her down by the horses—the fresh air will do her good.”
Bundling Navy for the cold was both a task and a joy. The little girl toddled around the yard, babbling at the horses and picking up fallen apples before finally tiring out. By the time Willow carried her back inside, Navy was asleep, heavy and warm in her arms.
Honor appeared with floral catalogues in hand. “Perfect timing. I need your opinion on wedding flowers.”
Willow tucked Navy onto the sofa, propped pillows around her to keep her safe and turned to her sister-in-law with a smile. “Of course.”
She might’ve needed a bathroom break and had baby shower decorations still unchecked on her list, but Honor’s hopeful face made it impossible to say no.
By the time they’d finished comparing blooms, Navy was awake, Denver had wrapped up his meeting, and the kitchen was once again overrun by hungry brothers.
Willow slipped away to her little office to finally order those shower decorations. She’d just hit submit when a knock sounded on the doorframe.
Layne leaned in, hand resting on her rounded belly. “There’s a delivery from the feed store.”
Brows arching, she racked her brain for what she might have ordered.
Then she hurried to the porch. A single paper sack with the feed store logo sat waiting.
She carried it inside, expecting supplies for the chickens or horses—only to find a jar of thick, golden honey.
The farm name on the label was familiar, but she hadn’t ordered any.
Confused, she went back inside and called the feed store. “Hi, Cal. I think I got someone else’s delivery.”
“Don’t think so,” Cal replied cheerfully. “That bag had your name on it.”
Willow frowned at the blocky letters scrawled across the front of the sack. Her name, plain as day.
Ending the call, she turned the jar in her hands. Honey. Not something she needed, not something she remembered ever mentioning. But someone had sent it to her.
Unease curled low in her stomach. Her brothers would overreact if they found out—but it was just honey.
* * * * *
The barn doors yawned wide, spilling a wash of gray light across the pristinely clean floor. Decker paused at the threshold, fingers stroking the worn wood. His gaze caught on the slim figure moving with purpose inside.
Willow.
She was already halfway down the center aisle, braid bouncing against her back, boots scuffing softly as she passed each stall.
He watched her slip into the second one—occupied by Serenity, if he remembered right.
Juliette’s horse, which Theo had gifted her after bringing her to the Black Heart.
Willow always kept a close eye on her, same as she did the rest of the herd.
The air carried the scent of straw and horse, but something else that smacked Decker square in the chest—Willow’s shampoo, or maybe vanilla-scented lotion. He’d caught hints of it last night when she was close enough to staple his shoulder back together.
The memory made his body throb, but not from the wound.
He lingered in the doorway, torn. He wanted to hear her voice, to thank her for what she did. To stare into her beautiful gray eyes and find a brand of peace that had been scarce in his life.
Since coming to the ranch, he’d spent a lot of time with Willow, both in horse therapy sessions and just helping with chores. The more he got to know her, the more he wanted to be in her calming presence.
His throat ached to call out to her and see her turn with a smile for him. But he knew he shouldn’t interrupt. She spent every hour giving—to the vets, to her family, to the horses—and maybe this was her one slice of quiet.
But his boots carried him forward anyway, slow and silent until he could hear the low purr of her voice as she soothed the mare.
“Easy, girl,” she was murmuring, her tone soft as velvet. “I know you miss her. But she’ll come visit you soon. She’s busy practicing violin for a big performance.”
Her cheek rested briefly against Serenity’s flank, fingers combing through the silky mane. Decker’s chest tightened.
Willow gave herself to every living creature on this ranch.
He’d seen it a dozen times—the way she sat on the porch steps this afternoon with her coffee, barn cats piled over her lap while she stroked each one like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.
Sunlight had caught the waves of her hair then, glinting gold, and he’d stood frozen in the yard like an idiot, unable to look away.
The mare nickered softly, nudging Willow’s shoulder with her velvety nose. Willow laughed—a sound so pure it made Decker’s throat go tight. She scratched behind the horse’s ears, completely absorbed in the moment, completely unaware she was being watched.
And here he was again. Watching. Making it weird.
This was why he usually avoided the barns during her rounds. Because watching Willow with the animals was like staring directly into the sun—it left him blind to everything else, burned images into his brain that he couldn’t shake for hours afterward.