Page 66 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

Stealing one last glance at the horse I wish was mine, I get up to find what I need. I slather butter on the banana bread and without hesitation, take a bite. Pleasure dances on my tongue and I savor the flavors and textures.

Watching the beautiful mare, I eat every morsel of food on my plate.

For the first time in a long time, I have hope.

32

“It’s done.”

“Thanks Grey, I owe you one.” I sigh with deep relief.

“Don’t mention it,” he says, and I smirk thinking he means it was no issue.

“Seriously, Hayes. Don’t. Mention. It.” And now I’m afraid.

“We’ve all learned when Greyson says he’ll handle something, it’s best to leave him to his ‘Bruce Wayne by day—Batman by night’ persona, not ask questions, and pretend it never happened,” James jokes.

“Shut the fuck up, James. You’re already on my list,” Greyson snarls.

“Your list of best friends? Yea, I know. I’ve been in the top spot for decades.” James ducks in time to miss Greyson’s bitch slap.

Not for the first time since I joined Lucky Spurs Ranch, I laugh at men ten years my senior acting ten years my junior.

“What’d my asshole older brother do now?” Reid asks, coming in from the grill.

The smoky scent of hickory wafts in behind him and my mouth waters. The racks of ribs he slathered with barbeque sauce earlier smell irresistible.

“Ran his fucking mouth,” Greyson says.

“So, nothing new,” Reid jokes, pulling macaroni salad from the fridge. On his way to the dining table, he claps Greyson on the back.

“Thanks again, man. I might get some sleep now that Isabelle’s safe.”

Greyson waves a hand dismissively before disappearing out the front door. Sometimes I forget he runs his own business in town, since he’s here most mornings and some evenings.

“What happens now?” I ask the room.

James steps into lawyer-mode and gets serious.

“After the deputies hauled her off the ranch, they held her at the station until I got in front of the judge. She offered Ivy two choices. Voluntary rehab, or a luxurious overnight stay in jail, a trespassing charge, and a temporary restraining order.”

“Of course, Ivy didn’t choose the option that would benefit her or her daughters. So, for the next fourteen days she can’t come within five hundred feet of the ranch, or her daughters, no exceptions.

“Assuming she doesn’t show up to contest the order, the judge will likely grant my request for a six-month protective order,” James explains.

I can’t express the relief of knowing Delilah’s safe, at least for the next two weeks.

The front door swings open and Izzy walks straight into Reid’s arms and buries her face in his chest. Jealousy burns—not because of their embrace, I hug Delilah all the time—but because that’s all I’ll ever have, and watching Reid get all of Isabelle grates on me.

My focus shifts behind Izzy to my fallen angel, brighter and livelier than I would’ve expected after everything that went down this morning. Izzy kept Delilah busy while we handled the Ivy situation.

She gives me a soft smile and my stomach flutters. If you did an MRI, no doubt you’d see a swarm of butterflies, tired and tattered from a lifetime taking flight every time Delilah’s looked my way.

“Hey, doll, you doing okay?” I ask, folding her into my arms.

I’m enveloped by her familiar vanilla-jasmine sweetness and savor this stolen moment.

“I’m doing better than I thought I’d be. She’s needed help for a long time and if she refuses to accept it, I can’t hold myself responsible for her anymore,” Delilah says.