2. Claire

2

CLAIRE

Y ou’d think after a year at the ranch, I’d have learned to keep my thoughts professional around Brady Magnuson. But I’m just as hopelessly attracted to the man as I was on day one. No, it’s worse now, actually. He might be the most impossible boss in Montana, but watching him walk away in those perfectly worn jeans, his broad shoulders filling out his work shirt just right...

Well. Some sights are worth staying late for.

My porch light glows bright as I pull into my driveway, and I can see my grandmother’s silhouette through the front window. Her concerned face greets me as I step inside the house, her eyes filled with both relief and disapproval.

“Claire Louise Reed,” she says, hands on her hips. “That boss of yours is working you to the bone, I swear?—”

I hold up my hands in surrender, unable to keep the amusement from my voice. “Whoa, Gran. Don’t put the blame on Brady. I stayed late of my own free will.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, clearly unconvinced. “Oh? And what, pray tell, was so important that you couldn’t come home at a decent hour?”

“The flower bed needed some extra attention,” I explain, kicking off my boots. “You know how it is. Once I get started on something, I can’t leave it half-finished.”

Gran’s eyes narrow, and for a second, I think she’s going to push it. But then she just shakes her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “You and those flowers. I swear, girl, you’d sleep in the dirt if I let you.”

I laugh and kiss her on the cheek. Together, we make our way to the kitchen, falling into our usual dinner prep routine. I grab a cutting board and start chopping vegetables while Gran fusses with the stove. The kitchen soon fills with the sizzle of cooking and the comforting aroma of herbs and spices.

“So,” Gran says, in that tone that means she’s about to spill some serious tea. “You’ll never guess what I heard at the salon today.”

I lean in, eager for the latest Eagle Falls gossip. “Hit me with it.”

For the next twenty minutes, I’m regaled with tales of who’s feuding with who, whose lawn decorations are causing a stir, and who’s getting a little too competitive at bingo night. I nod along, throwing in a few playful comments and gasping at the juiciest tidbits.

But all the while, my mind is still back at the ranch. I can’t help but wonder what Brady is doing right now. Is he having dinner with Logan and Sierra? Is he out checking on the horses one last time?

Or is he sitting alone in that big house of his, brooding all alone?

“Yoo-hoo, anybody home?” Gran waves a hand in front of my face. “Where’d that mind of yours wander off to?”

I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at the same carrot for a good thirty seconds. “Sorry, Gran. Just thinking about work stuff.”

She hums knowingly. “Work stuff, indeed. Want to talk about it?”

For a split second, I’m tempted to spill everything: how working with Brady makes me feel alive in a way I never have before. How his gruff exterior just makes me want to dig deeper, to find the man underneath. How sometimes, when we’re working side by side, I catch him looking at me with an intensity that sends my heart into somersaults.

But I swallow it all down. “Nothing major. Just thinking about one of the new horses.”

Gran nods, but I can tell she’s not buying it. Still, she lets it go for now, and as we sit down at the dining table to eat, we settle into an easy conversation about the ranch. I find myself gushing about the horses, the land, even the endless chores. It’s only when I pause for breath that I notice Gran watching me with a soft smile.

“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head as she reaches for another bread roll. “It’s just that I’ve never seen you so passionate about a job before. Brady’s ranch suits you.”

I feel a warmth bloom in my chest at her words. She’s right about it suiting me. From my first day at the ranch, it felt different than the other places I’ve worked. The other ranches had been all about profit—pushing cattle through, breeding horses for sale. But Brady’s place, devoted to giving retired racehorses a second chance, has real heart—even if Brady himself keeps his caring side well-hidden. “Thanks, Gran. It really does feel like the perfect fit.”

“I’m proud of you for working so hard,” she goes on. “But you know, Claire, there’s more to life than just work. Have you given any thought to your personal life lately?”

I brace myself for what I know she’s about to say. “Gran...”

“I’m just saying,” she continues, undeterred. “You’re in your thirties. Don’t you think it’s time you started thinking about settling down? Finding someone special?”

My grip on my fork tightens as I push the food around on my plate. “It’s not like I haven’t tried. There have been plenty of guys, remember? But none of them worked out.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Those boys were all wrong for you. But that doesn’t mean the right one isn’t out there.”

I sigh, feeling old frustration bubbling up. “I’ve dated almost all of the eligible men in Eagle Falls, I swear. And you know what? None of them get me. They all want me to be something I’m not—some dainty little thing who needs help opening jars.”

“Maybe you’re being too picky,” Gran suggests gently. “No one’s perfect, dear.”

The question hangs in the air, and suddenly my mind is full of him . Brady. His strong, weathered hands. The intensity in his steel-blue eyes that makes my heart go haywire. The electricity I feel when we work together, moving in perfect sync without a word spoken.

Once again, I’m tempted to spill it all. To confess that I’ve found a man who exceeds every standard I’ve ever had.

But I can’t. Because dating Brady is impossible. Forbidden.

And my longing is almost certainly one-sided.

I take a deep breath, pushing the images away. “Love will happen when it’s meant to, Gran. I’m not going to force it.”

She looks like she wants to argue, but something in my face must give her pause. Instead, she reaches out and pats my hand. “I just want you to be happy, sweetheart.”

“I know,” I say softly. “And I am. Really.”

We spend the rest of the meal talking about lighter topics—Gran’s book club drama, more town gossip, and her ongoing feud with the neighbor’s cat. As I’m helping clear the table, I glance at the clock and suddenly remember something. “Gran, do you know if Lizzie’s gift shop is still open this late?”

My grandmother’s eyebrows shoot up. “At this hour? What in the world do you need from Lizzie’s?”

I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. “Logan invited me to a surprise party for Brady’s fiftieth birthday this weekend.”

Gran’s eyes light up with interest. “Well, isn’t that nice of them to include you.”

“Oh, sure,” I say with a smirk. “Brady’s going to be thrilled. Both with the surprise party, and with me being one of the invited guests. I don’t know what I ever did to offend him so much, but I swear, he hasn’t smiled at me one single time in an entire year of working for him.”

“Men can be odd creatures,” she says, shaking her head. “Maybe you should do something to try to soften him up. Sometimes they need a little patience, a little understanding…but sometimes they just need a good swift kick in the pants.”

I burst out laughing. “Gran!”

As we finish cleaning up, my mind is swirling with thoughts. My grandmother is right. Brady’s birthday party is more than just a social event. It’s an opportunity. Away from the ranch, away from our usual roles as boss and employee, maybe I’ll finally have a chance to break through that hard exterior of his.

And so I make a silent vow to myself. At the party, I’m going to find a way to get through to Brady Magnuson.