Chapter 22
April
The gravel crunches under the tires as we pull into Saguaro Ranch.
With the sun dipping behind the barn, it’s quiet, peaceful—like the world slowed just for us—and in front of us? Horses.
Everywhere.
Big gorgeous horses in every shade of brown, black, and white, grazing behind wooden fences or getting prepped with saddles by the barn. They’re majestic. Enormous. Regal.
And I’m… terrified.
Terrified and so excited.
Also, Max is still wearing those damn jeans.
It’s a problem.
I keep sneaking glances like I’m seventeen again and trying not to make eye contact with my crush in the hallway. They way they hug his thighs is rude, honestly.
A kind-looking woman with silver braids and turquoise earrings greets us as we step out of the car.
“You must be Max and April,”
she says, smiling wide.
“Welcome to Saguaro Ranch. We’re so glad you’re here.”
Her warmth is instant, a breath of fresh air easing my nerves.
Introducing herself as Lani, one of the ranch hosts, she leads us toward the main stable where a paper map is pinned to a corkboard.
“Here’s the route we’ll take,”
she explains, tracing the path with a manicured nail.
“It’s about an hour and a half. Slow, easy pace. We’ll have a few stops for water and pictures—there’s one spot with a view of the entire valley, just breathtaking. Once you return, a table will be ready for you.”
Max leans in beside me, listening carefully.
I, on the other hand, am barely registering the words scenic overlook because I’m still internally screaming that this man planned an entire horseback-riding experience, with dinner included.
On less than a day’s notice.
Who is he?
Lani claps gently, then waves over a younger guy leading two horses our way.
“Time to meet your ride for the evening.”
The horses are… massive.
One is a warm chestnut with a white blaze down his face. The other is a glossy black mare with gentle eyes and a mane that looks like it was brushed by angels.
“This is Cooper,”
Lani says, patting the chestnut.
“And this beauty is Sadie.”
“They’re a bonded pair,”
the stable hand adds.
“Mates. They don’t do anything without each other.”
I don’t know why, but that hits me right in the softest part of my chest.
Max steps up to Cooper as if they’ve known each other for years. The horse noses into his palm, nuzzles his arm, and Max’s smile comes easy—sure and steady in a way that makes it look second nature.
“You good, buddy?”
he murmurs.
I could faint.
Meanwhile, my anxiety has me standing two feet away from Sadie, worried she might pick up on it and file it away for later.
But she just watches me. Patient. Calm.
Then—so slowly it nearly undoes me—she lowers her head and presses her forehead to my shoulder.
My throat tightens.
“Okay,”
I whisper.
“I think we’re gonna be best friends, I can feel it.”
With a little help from the ranch staff, I get into the saddle.
Sadie stays still the entire time.
Doesn’t even flinch.
Once I’m settled, Max gives me a look from atop Cooper, like You good? and I nod, heart pounding and lungs full of desert air and something I can’t name.
The group moves, a slow and steady line of riders heading out of the stables.
And we ride.
Past giant, towering saguaros that stretch into the sky as if they’re holding up the sun. Through a landscape scattered with yellow blooms and patches of purple wildflowers. The air smells of warm dust and creosote, and the light—God, the light—is golden and soft and perfect.
Max is ahead of me, turning slightly in the saddle ever so often, to make sure I’m still there.
And I am. I’m so here.
The trail winds through the golden dust, and I can’t stop looking back.
Behind me by a few strides, she’s white-knuckling the reins, her helmet is slightly askew, and her braid falls over her shoulder in this effortless way that makes my chest feel too full.
She’s smiling—wide, nervous, alive, and even though I can see the fear still lingering in her posture, there’s no denying the light in her eyes.
She’s stunning.
I don’t even pretend to hide the way I’m watching her, and for the first time since this trip started, I think I might actually owe Nico a favor.
A big one.
Like, I-might-owe-him-my-left-kidney big.
Cooper keeps a steady pace, patient and sure-footed, but Sadie draws closer, her hooves clicking a little faster until she’s right beside him.
April’s eyes widen slightly as Sadie matches Cooper’s stride, walking right alongside him like they’ve done it a thousand times.
“Guess she doesn’t like being too far from her partner,”
she murmurs, glancing at Sadie with a little smile.
“Kind of romantic, isn’t it?”
Yeah, that hits a little harder than I expect it to.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I carefully angle it and snap a quick photo of the two of us—framed by cacti and a sky that’s slowly fading into lavender.
“I wish I’d brought my camera,”
she says, her voice laced with just enough regret.
“But I was terrified I’d drop it or not be able to focus on riding.”
“Don’t worry, I’m no professional, but I’ve got you covered. I’ll take as many as I can.”
She glances over, surprised and smiling.
“I’m sure they’ll be perfect,”
she says, quiet but certain.
“Because it’s you.”
The trail bends again, taking us through a forest of towering saguaros, their silhouettes rising like quiet sentinels against the evening light. Between the thick stalks are patches of flowering ocotillo and bursts of yellow brittlebush. The shadows stretch across the dirt in lazy brushstrokes, and the temperature shifts from warm to something almost… sweet.
We ride, listening to the sounds of hooves on dirt, the occasional birdcall, and the rhythm of shared silence.
Then I hear her voice—soft, a little breathless.
“Thank you for this.”
I glance over.
“For what?”
“For this ride. For the view. For planning something so beautiful and detailed.”
I don’t answer right away, because if I do, I might say too much. Then I decide to go with the truth.
“Nico had something to do with it.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“Of course he did.”
“I can’t take full credit,”
I admit, adjusting my hold on the reins.
“He texted me while we were still on the road and said it’d be the kind of thing you’d never forget. He reads too many romance novels.”
I smirk at her, chuckling.
“But he’s not wrong.”
She tilts her head, studying me.
“Well, you could’ve just said you were tired from all the driving and gone straight to the hotel,”
she says.
“Yet here you are. In this magical adventure.”
She looks at me, eyes warm.
“Thank you.”
And just like that, I’m a little undone. She says it simply—like it’s not slowly unraveling me, thread by thread. Because she doesn’t know how easy it was to say yes to this. To her. I wish she knew I’d plan a thousand more rides to be the reason she smiles.
We reach the overlook as the sun hits the edge of the horizon. Golden light spills over the valley below, bathing everything in a glow so warm it appears painted. The cacti stretch like quiet statues across the ridge, their shadows long and soft across the dirt. It’s quiet, except for the creak of leather and the faint breeze cutting through the air.
April hops down from Sadie with help from the guide and lands lightly beside me, her braid a little windblown, and her cheeks pink from the sun and the ride.
Her smile says she doesn’t want this moment to end, and I feel the same.
“Would you like a picture?”
the guide offers, pulling out her phone.
“Actually,”
I say.
“would you mind taking one of us with my phone?”
“Of course.”
She beams.
“I’m a photographer on weekends—I take trail riders out for mini sessions sometimes. You two are perfect.”
April raises her brows at me, surprised but laughing as I hand over my phone. We step toward the fence, with our horses just behind us, grazing in the fading light.
At first, we stand side by side, close but not touching. The guide takes a few shots, then lowers the phone and frowns thoughtfully.
“Okay, now get your arm around her.”
I hesitate, but April leans into me like it’s second nature, and my arm wraps around her waist, and her body melds to mine so easily.
“Now, April, look up at him,”
the guide instructs.
“Trust me, it’s golden hour, and the light is doing its thing.”
April glances up at me, eyes wide, and laughs, and my heart stumbles.
“Now, Max, tilt your head toward her. Yep, right there—perfect. Hold that.”
“You sure you don’t want to direct this photoshoot?”
I ask, trying to keep my voice light.
She just grins.
“Okay. The sun is literally behind you. This is a perfect kissing picture. Lean down. Kiss her.”
My brain stops working for exactly one heartbeat.
April’s pupils dilate—but she doesn’t pull away.
She doesn’t move at all.
I look down at her.
She looks up at me.
The world narrows to the space between us—and I kiss her.
It’s soft at first. Hesitant. My hand rests on her waist, and hers relaxes against my chest, and I’m sure she can feel my heart pounding through my shirt.
Then she leans in too and deepens it, just a little, just enough to ruin me.
The breeze blows around us. The camera clicks.
With her soft lips on mine and the warmth of her hand steadying my heartbeat, I just know the world is holding its breath for us.
When we finally pull apart, I don’t even care that the guide is still standing ten feet away with my phone in her hand and the biggest grin on her face.
Because April’s gaze tells me she feels it too.
And for a second—just one perfect, golden second—everything is quiet.
And nothing has ever felt more real.