Chapter 7

The sizzle of bacon cuts through the silence of the morning as I flip it in the cast iron skillet. Sunlight spills across the worn tiles, and the smell of fresh coffee mingles with the hickory smoke. I"m sliding eggs onto a plate when I catch movement from the corner of my eye.

Julia.

She steps into the kitchen, barefoot, with her green eyes still soft from sleep. My breath catches a little at the sight of her wearing one of my shirts, the fabric hanging off one shoulder. It"s just an old button-down, faded blue and frayed at the cuffs, but on her, it looks different. Better.

"Morning," I say, trying to sound casual while my gaze travels from her tousled hair down to where the shirt tails meet her thighs.

"Good morning." She stretches, arms reaching high, and the shirt rides up, revealing more smooth skin. I tear my eyes away, focusing on the plate in my hand.

"Like the shirt?" I ask, nodding at the cotton draping her frame.

"Your shirts are comfy," she replies with a sleepy smile. "Hope you don"t mind."

"Don"t mind at all," I tell her, the corners of my mouth lifting. "In fact, I like seeing you in them."

Her cheeks flush a pretty pink that matches the sunrise outside, and there"s a spark of something—pleasure, maybe—in those green depths. The kitchen feels warmer suddenly, and it ain"t from the stove.

I hand her the plate, piled high with scrambled eggs and a couple of slices of bacon. "Hope you"re hungry."

"Starving," she says as she takes the plate, our fingers brushing. The contact sends a jolt through me that"s more electric than any cattle prod. She sits at the hand-crafted pine table, the wood sanded smooth from hours of hard labor, and I join her, my own plate in hand.

We eat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sounds are the clink of forks and the distant crowing of a rooster greeting the day. I watch her eat; she"s got an appetite that belies her slender frame, and I like that. It"s real, just like her.

"Jules," I start, my voice cutting through the quiet morning. She looks up, those green eyes meeting mine. "What do you say about riding along the fence line with me this morning? Need to check it"s all still intact, and I could use the company."

Her brows arch in surprise, but there"s curiosity there too. "I"d like that," she says after a moment. "It sounds... nice."

"Great," I reply, feeling a grin split my face. It"s been a long time since I"ve had company doing ranch chores, and having Julia along feels like it might just make the work feel less like work.

We finish our breakfast with a new kind of energy between us, anticipation for the ride ahead infusing the air. I clear the plates, thinking how natural it feels to have her here, like she belongs in this space that"s been mine alone for so long.

"Let"s get to it then," I say, pushing back from the table. "The horses won"t saddle themselves."

She nods, excitement lighting up her features, and I think to myself that this is going to be a good day, a real good day.

We step out into the cool morning air, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. The sky"s painted with streaks of pink and orange, a watercolor masterpiece that makes you appreciate being up at this ungodly hour.

"Never ridden before," Jules admits with a crack to her voice as we cross the yard toward the barn.

"Never?" I glance over at her, surprised. The way she carries herself, you"d think she"d been born in the saddle.

A soft chuckle escapes her lips, light and self-deprecating. "City girl, remember? Closest I came to a horse was a pony ride at a fair when I was about seven."

"Nothing to worry about," I reassure her, opening the wide barn doors. The scent of hay and leather greets us, familiar and comforting. "I"ll look after you."

She steps inside, taking it all in—the saddles, bridles, and the soft nickering of horses in their stalls. Her eyes reflect a mix of wonder and trepidation, yet there"s trust there too, trust that I won"t let her fall.

"Promise?" There"s a playful edge to her question, and I can"t help but smile back.

"Cross my heart." And I mean it. For the first time in a long while, I want to be someone she can rely on, someone she doesn't have to micromanage like her people at her work, someone who doesn"t let her down. But, why do I feel like this towards her? I don't even know her. Ugh.

"Okay then, cowboy," she says with a mock-serious nod. "Show me the ropes."

"Follow me." I lead her down the line of stalls, stopping in front of a chestnut mare with a gentle disposition. "This is Daisy. She'll take good care of you out there today," I introduce as I stroke the mare"s neck and start preparing her for the ride.

Jules seems to watch my every move. She looks smart, and it probably won"t take her long to get the hang of it. I can almost see the wheels turning in her head, connecting the dots, learning.

"Ready to give it a try?" I ask after a while, the horse saddled and ready.

"Let"s do it," she says, determination setting her jaw. She might be out of her element, but she"s not backing down. It's sexy as hell that she wants to face this new challenge head-on.

"Here," I hold out my hand, steadying her as she puts a foot in the stirrup and swings her leg over the horse"s back. Her movements are hesitant, unsure, but she manages to settle into the saddle.

"Look at you," I say, pride swelling in my chest. "Natural-born cowgirl."

"Feels weird," she admits, gripping the reins a touch too tightly.

"You"ll get used to it," I assure her. "Just relax."

"Easy for you to say," she retorts, but there"s laughter in her voice.

With a shake of my head and a last check on her saddle, I mount my own horse. We set off, side by side, the world waking up around us. This is a new beginning, and I"m curious where this trail will lead.

Daisy takes to Julia like she"s one of us, gentle and patient. The mare seems to understand that the woman on her back is a little uncertain, but willing to learn.

"Keep your heels down, remember to breathe," I instruct as we walk Daisy through the barn doors.

"Breathing is good," Julia quips, finding her rhythm atop Daisy. "Got it."

"Let her know you"re in charge, but be kind," I add, nudging my horse forward. We fall into step, the steady clop-clop of hooves a comforting sound in the quiet morning.

"Okay, Daisy. You and me, girl," Julia speaks softly to the horse, and I can"t help but smile at the tenderness in her voice.

We ride in silence for a moment, soaking in the serenity. The vast expanse of my land stretches out before us, untouched and peaceful. It"s moments like these that remind me why I left the hustle of city life behind.

"Look at that sunrise," she murmurs, awe coloring her tone.

"Never gets old," I reply, watching her instead of the sky.

"Ryan," she starts, then hesitates. "Thank you. For this."

"Anytime, sweetheart. I"m glad you"re here." The endearment slips out easily, the words feel heavy with truth, and the weight of something more starting to build between us in a fast amount of time has my chest tightening.

"Me too," she says, smiling.

And just like that, we ride out together, chasing the sunrise and maybe, just maybe, a fresh start.

We ride for a while, Daisy and my own horse following the fence line that marks the edge of my property. Luckily, I haven't come across anything that needs mending.

"Let"s take a break," I suggest, pointing toward a massive oak tree up ahead. Its branches are wide enough to shade us from the growing heat of the day.

"Sounds good to me," Julia agrees, and we steer our horses beneath the tree"s expansive canopy.

I swing down from my horse, the dust kicking up around my boots. Then I step over to help Julia dismount, her hand finding stability in mine, warm and real. Daisy stands patiently as Julia slides off her back, a little awkward but safe in my grasp.

"Easy there," I say, steadying her. "You"re a natural."

Julia laughs, brushing herself off. "If you say so."

We sit down on the grass, the oak"s thick trunk at our backs. Julia stretches out her legs, a look of contentment crossing her features. There"s a peace here that seeps into your bones, one that healed me when I was at my worst. I will always be indebted to this place for that.

"Hey, Jules, why do you do what you do?" I blurt out.

She looks over at me, and the sunlight catches in her eyes, turning them into pools of liquid emerald. "What do you mean?"

"Like, what drives you to slave away at building your business," I reply, knowing that there's a catalyst for everyone to stumble into that all familiar work ethic.

"My ex," she starts, her voice dropping a little as if the oak leaves might be eavesdropping. "It was a bad relationship. Really bad."

I nod, my gut clenching at the thought of anyone hurting her. "I"m sorry to hear that, sweetheart."

She plucks at the blades of grass, tearing them into tiny pieces. "Yeah, well, it was a while ago now. But it took a lot out of me. Made me question a lot of things."

"Like what?" I ask gently, curious to get to know her more.

"Trust. My judgment. Whether or not I could ever let someone get close again." Her words are measured, each one heavy with meaning.

"Understandable," I murmur, watching her closely. She"s strong, I can tell, but even the toughest among us have their scars.

"Anyway," she continues, brushing off her hands and changing the subject like flicking a switch. "After that mess, I just dove into work. Building my business became my safe haven." She looks up at me and shrugs one shoulder.

"Work can be a refuge when the rest of the world gets too loud," I reply.

"I get it. Sometimes the ranch is the only place where things make sense to me, too," I say further, picking a blade of grass and flicking it through my fingers to watch it soar through the air.

"Exactly." She nods, animated now. "I"ve always had this thing for growth. Doesn"t matter if it"s a plant or a profit margin. There"s something about taking something so small... and nurturing it, watching it grow into this big and beautiful thing." Her arms spread wide as she speaks, encompassing the vastness of the idea—or maybe the vastness of her dreams.

I can"t help but smile at her passion, and I'm reminded that I can't remember when I've smiled this much in one day. It's not even noon yet. "Seems like you"re pretty good at making things flourish."

"Guess so." She shrugs modestly, but I see the pride there. "But sometimes I wonder if I got too caught up in it all. Work became everything, you know? My entire world."

"Until you decided to take a break and come out here?"

"Yep, even though this was still supposed to be a work trip, but with our mother's help, it turned into a little vacation instead." She laughs, yet there"s a hint of seriousness behind it. "Who knew a city girl like me would find peace on a Texas ranch with a cowboy who"s more grumpy than sunshine?"

"Hey now," I protest, feigning offense. "I"m not that grumpy."

"Right," she teases, rolling her eyes. "The sunniest guy I ever did meet."

"Keep it up, Jules, and you"ll see just how sunny I can be." The challenge in my voice is light, but honest.

"Promise?" There"s a playful lilt to her words, and something more—a subtle invitation.

"Promise." I hold her gaze. We"ve both been through our fair share of storms, but right now, it feels like we might just be each other"s break in the clouds. "However, we do need to find out how and why our mothers set up whatever they did. They went to extreme lengths. Don't you think?"

"Yeah, they sure thought this one through. We'll have to talk to them."

On the ride back, it's comfortable silence, the only sounds are the rhythmic clopping of our horses' hooves until Julia says, "You know, I don't think anyone has ever asked me directly the deep questions like you did today." She looks my direction, offering me a small smile that doesn"t quite reach her eyes. "Feels good to say it out loud. Thanks."

"Anytime, Jules." I truly do mean it. "And for what it's worth, I think you've got great judgment."

Her laughter rings out, clear and bright. "Yeah, you say that to the woman who stayed at a house in the middle of nowhere, in the dead of night, with a man she didn't know from Adam. Great judgment, huh?" She continues to chuckle, and just like that, the moment is lighter, easier.

"Almost there," I call out as the barn comes into view, the old wood standing strong against the Texas sky.

"Already?" She sounds disappointed, a small frown tugging at her lips.

"Time flies when you"re having fun," I reply with a chuckle, guiding my horse, so Daisy will follow, toward the barn with a gentle nudge of my heels.

Dismounting with ease, I turn to help Julia. She swings one leg over, hesitating for just a split second before reaching out to me. Our hands connect, and that"s when it happens—she slides down, and we collide, her body pressed against mine. Her green eyes widen with surprise, mirroring the sudden rush of heat coursing through me.

"Sorry..." she mumbles, her breath hitching.

"Don"t be," I say, my voice low, the words barely more than a whisper.

I can feel her heart racing against my chest, her soft curves melding into my frame like two pieces of a puzzle long separated. And then, without thinking, without planning, I dip my head down and capture her lips with mine.

It"s a tender kiss, cautious at first, but it doesn"t take long for caution to give way to something deeper, something urgent. Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt, pulling me closer, and I oblige without hesitation. We"re lost in the moment, in the sweet taste of new beginnings, and it feels like coming home.

When we finally pull apart, our foreheads rest together, and I can"t help but smile once more.

"Sunshine enough for you?" I tease, my voice husky with emotion.

"More than enough," she breathes out, her eyes shining with something that looks a lot like hope.