Chapter 13
Grant’s House — Morning
Sunlight slid under the guest room curtains in a thin, bright line across the floor.
Izzy woke with a dry mouth and a heart that immediately tried to sprint out of her.
For one disoriented second, she thought it was the wine.
Then last night hit.
Fast. Uninvited.
Narrow hallway. Lamp light. The wall at her back.
Grant—
Too close. Too solid.
His hands.
Not soft. Not careful.
Rough. Calloused. Used to reins and rope and work that didn’t come off at the end of the day.
She could still feel them.
At her waist.
Sliding up.
Holding her like he meant it.
Her stomach dropped.
“Oh no,” she muttered into the pillow.
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.
This was fine.
It was.
Grown adults were allowed one late-night, terrible-decision, absolutely-not-happening-again moment without it turning into a situation.
She was leaving in a week.
She had a gallery that was barely holding together.
She did not have time for—she squeezed her eyes shut.
—or for the way she hadn’t stopped him.
Worse—the way she’d stepped closer.
Heat crept up her neck.
“Fantastic,” she muttered.
Because now she got to be embarrassed.
And irritated.
At him, for starting it.
At herself—for not ending it.
Good grief.
She pushed herself upright, dragged on a soft sweater and jeans over her camisole, and padded down the hall.
The house was quiet.
Grant’s door stood open.
Empty.
In the kitchen, the coffeepot sat half full. A note leaned against it, his handwriting a little neater than she would have guessed.
Izzy—
Had to head out early. Horses don’t feed themselves. Coffee’s fresh. Caitlin will swing by in a bit. —G
She read it twice.
“Of course,” she said softly.
Distance. Good. Helpful. Exactly what she’d told herself she wanted last night—if you ignored every place her skin still remembered his hands.
She poured coffee, doctored it the way she liked, and tried very hard not to think about what his hand had felt like splayed across her back.
* * *
It was late morning when Caitlin’s SUV rolled up the drive—right on time.
Izzy met her on the porch, coffee mug in one hand, the other shoved casually into her pocket like that would somehow steady her.
Caitlin practically bounced out of the driver’s seat.
“Hi,” she said, eyes still a little puffy from last night’s happy crying and somehow brighter for it. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Izzy said. “What’s first on the grand Caitlin West Sunday Tour?”
“Horses,” Caitlin said immediately. “Then I’ll sneak us into the museum. Then we’ll see how much energy we have left.”
Izzy’s heart did a small, treacherous flip at the word “horses.”
“Okay,” she said. “Horses.”
They walked down toward the barn together, gravel crunching underfoot.
Halfway there, a blur of tan and white shot around the corner of the house.
“Steve,” Izzy said, already smiling.
The dog barreled straight for her, ears flapping, tongue lolling, nails scrabbling on the packed dirt. He skidded to a stop in time to bump his head gently against her thigh, leaning his full, trusting weight into her like she’d been gone for weeks instead of hours.
“Hey, buddy,” she murmured, crouching to scratch behind his ears.
His whole body wriggled at once, tail thumping against her calf.
“He missed you,” Caitlin said, amused.
“Clearly,” Izzy said. Steve tipped his head to press his nose into her palm, soaking up every second like he had nowhere else to be.
After a moment, he trotted ahead toward the open barn doors like a self-appointed escort.
* * *
The day was sharp and clear, the kind of North Carolina morning that made everything look more vivid than it had any right to.
Inside, the barn hummed with its usual quiet motion.
Steve padded down the aisle in front of them, giving one curious sniff toward each stall like he was making proper introductions.
Jose swept down the aisle with an easy rhythm. Another hand rolled a wheelbarrow past. Somewhere, a horse snorted, deep and content.
Caitlin veered toward the stalls like she’d been doing it her whole life.
“Oh,” she said, stopping in front of one. “Look at him.”
A paint horse, bay and white, had his head over the half-door, ears forward, one blue eye, one brown. The stall sign read: CODY.
“That one’s pretty,” Caitlin said. “Can we ride him?”
Before Izzy could answer, a familiar voice came from farther down the aisle.
“Don’t ride him.”
Grant stepped out of a stall, wiping his hands on a rag, hat low against the light, every inch the composed morning version of the man who’d had her against a wall last night.
Her stomach did a stupid little drop.
Steve abandoned his inspection of a feed bin and beelined for Grant, bumping his leg once before circling back to flop near Izzy’s boots, tongue lolling, as if to keep an eye on both of them.
“That’s Naomi’s baby,” he said, nodding toward Cody. “She raised him from a foal. She’ll gut me if I let you take him out for a joyride.”
Caitlin’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding.”
Naomi’s voice floated down the aisle from somewhere behind them. “He is not kidding.”
Izzy laughed.
“Noted,” Caitlin said. “Hands off, Cody.” She looked back at the horse, lowering her voice. “No joyrides for you, handsome. Sorry.”
“Ghost and Jasper are ready,” Jose called. “All set up.”
Izzy turned.
Ghost stood in the cross-ties, gray coat gleaming under the barn light, already tacked and waiting. Beside him, a bay gelding—solid, kind-eyed, the picture of reliability—stood tied, ears flicking. The brass nameplate on his halter read: JASPER.
Jose tightened the last strap on Ghost’s girth and stepped back.
“You’re good,” he said to Izzy. “He remembers you.”
“Hey, handsome,” she murmured, running a hand down Ghost’s neck.
He let out a low, contented snort and leaned into her touch like he agreed.
Steve huffed once from his spot on the floor and laid his head on his paws, apparently satisfied with the morning’s arrangements.
Caitlin eyed Jasper with a mix of glee and nerves.
“You’re sure he’s okay for me?”
“Jasper’ll take care of you,” Grant said. “He’s packed kids up that hill since before you could spell his name.”
Caitlin wrinkled her nose at him. “Rude. Accurate.”
Naomi appeared long enough to check both saddles with quick, competent hands.
She gave Caitlin a brief once-over.
“You remember what you’re doing?” she asked.
Caitlin met her eye. “Pretty sure.”
Naomi nodded once. “Don’t die,” she said. “I’ve got enough paperwork.”
“I’ll do my best,” Caitlin said.
Grant watched the exchange, something like reluctant approval in his eyes.
“Where you headed?” he asked.
Izzy’s grin turned conspiratorial.
“I thought we’d go up to Back Ridge,” she said. “Show her the view.”
Izzy’s pulse ticked up a notch.
The cabin.
The paintings.
Grant’s gaze moved between them.
He didn’t say no.
“Stay on the main trail,” he said instead. “Text me when you’re headed back.”
“Yes, Dad,” Caitlin said.
He gave her a look that was all warning and affection.
Izzy swung up into the saddle, Ghost shifting enough under her to remind her he was there and paying attention.
The give of leather.
The height.
The way the world looked different from here.
Caitlin mounted Jasper with the help of the mounting block, settling into the saddle with a little laugh.
“Okay,” she said. “This is already my favorite part of the day.”
Grant stepped back, giving them room.
“Have fun,” he said.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Naomi added.
“Define stupid,” Caitlin said.
Naomi just looked at her.
“Right,” Caitlin said. “No stupid. Got it.”
Izzy gathered her reins, glanced once at Grant.
“See you later,” she said.
He met her eyes.
“Yeah,” he said. “You will.”
She turned Ghost toward the open doors.
Caitlin nudged Jasper forward beside her.
They rode out.
* * *
The trail narrowed as it climbed, trees closing in on either side, the farm falling away behind them.
For a few minutes, neither of them spoke.
Caitlin let it go longer than usual.
Watched Izzy instead.
The way she sat a little too straight in the saddle.
The way she hadn’t looked back at the barn.
The way she was very deliberately not saying anything.
Yeah. Something had happened.
Caitlin smiled to herself.
“Well,” she said finally. “This silence is suspicious.”
Izzy didn’t look at her.
“Is it?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
A beat.
“Are we going to talk about it,” Caitlin added, “or are you going to make me drag it out of you one painful inch at a time?”
Izzy stared straight ahead.
“It was late,” she said. “There was wine. Poor judgment was involved.”
“That’s not a detail.”
“It’s the summary.”
Caitlin leaned closer in the saddle. “Izzy.”
Izzy groaned. “Fine.”
A beat.
“I asked him to unzip me,” she muttered. “In the hallway. And he’s—” she made a vague gesture, “—large. And there was a wall. And it was … unfortunate proximity.”
Caitlin went dead still.
Then—
“Ohhh,” she said slowly.
Izzy shot her a look. “Do not.”
Caitlin’s grin spread. “Did this proximity involve tongues by any chance?”
Izzy closed her eyes briefly. “You’re the worst.”
“That’s a yes,” Caitlin said, delighted.
Izzy blinked at her, a flicker of surprise cutting through the mortification. She’d half expected Caitlin to shut this down immediately on general principle where Grant Scott was concerned. Apparently not.
“It is not a yes,” Izzy said. “It is a ‘this was a terrible idea and will not be repeated’ situation.”
“Mm-hm.”
Izzy shifted in the saddle.
“I’m serious,” she said. “It went from zero to extremely bad decision in about three seconds.”
“And then?” Caitlin pressed.
Izzy hesitated.
Then, quieter—
“He stopped.”
Caitlin’s expression changed. “He stopped?”
Izzy nodded once. “Yeah.”
“Huh.”
“Exactly,” Izzy said. “So now I get to be annoyed at him for starting it and at myself for not stopping it.”
Caitlin studied her.
“And you’re sure that’s the only reason you’re annoyed?” she asked.
Izzy didn’t answer.
Caitlin watched her for another second.
Then she let it go.
“For now,” she said.
Izzy exhaled quietly, grateful.
* * *
Ahead, the trail curved, the trees thinning enough for the ridge to open up.
Caitlin shifted in the saddle, scanning the rise.
“So,” she said, lighter now, “where exactly are you taking me?”
Izzy’s mouth curved slightly.
“You’ll see.”
A few more steps up the trail—
Then—
“There,” Izzy said, nodding ahead.
The cabin sat tucked back off the rise, half-hidden behind trees and overgrown brush.
Caitlin slowed Jasper.
“…What is that?” she asked.
Izzy pulled Ghost up beside her.
“Something I’ve been dying to show you.”