Page 9 of Wild Sanctuary

“Sure you will.” He drops the chair back to all four legs with a thunk before fixing me with narrowed eyes. “Unless you want to be the one to show her around?”

“I’ve got work to do.”

“So do I. And yet somehow I still find time to be social.” He stands, stretching lazily. “Guess I’ll just have to be the welcomin’ committee all on my lonesome. Might take her to the summer fair in a couple of weeks. They’ve got that band she used to like, the one that plays all the old country covers.”

Of course he remembers what band she liked.

Because Colt Hartley has always paid attention to things like that, filed them away for exactly this kind of moment when he’s turning on the charm.

And as much as it kills me to admit, Daisy would be perfect for him. She’s bright, warm, and matches his energy. Two people who actually know how to smile without it looking like it pains them.

She’d probably laugh at his jokes and lean into him as though she belongs at his side.

The image makes me want to put my fist through the wall.

“Do what you want.” My voice is level. “Just don’t interfere with her work.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Colt heads for the door, then pauses, glancing back with that smirk. “You know, for someone who doesn’t care, you sure have a lot of opinions about who Daisy Monroe spends time with.”

He’s gone before I can respond, the screen door banging shut behind him.

I turn back to the window and focus on the view outside. The mountains in the distance are still capped with snow. The cattle are grazing in the far pasture. It truly is a sight for sore eyes, but I’m too busy getting a handle on myself that I don’t really see it.

I don’t know how long I stay standing there, but the cattle have drifted clear to the far fence line by the time Colt’s parting shot finally stops rattling around in my head.

The back door opens and Weston walks in, silent as usual. Whether that comes from working with traumatized horses or from growing up in a house this loud and learning to carve out space in the quiet, I’ve never been sure.

He doesn’t speak much. Not since Mom passed. But when he does, it’s worth listening.

He goes to the coffee pot, pours himself a cup, and leans against the counter to drink it. The silence stretches between us, comfortable and familiar. West has never needed words to communicate.

“She settle in okay?” he asks finally, his voice quiet.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He takes another sip of coffee. “Been a long time since she’s been here.”

“Three years.”

“Longer’n that, really. She stopped coming after that last Christmas.” West studies his cup like it holds answers. “Must be strange for her. Being back without Tom.”

I swallow hard. “Yeah.”

“You gonna help her with that article?”

“If she needs it.”

West nods slowly. “She’ll probably want to interview all of us. Get the full picture of how the ranch operates.” He rinses his cup with the same methodical care he brings to everything. “Might need someone to show her around the property too. There’s been a lot of changes since she was last here.”

The idea sits wrong. Too much time. Too close. And I don’t like where my head goes with that.

“She knows the ranch.”

“She knew the ranch, Wy,” West corrects. “We’ve expanded the training facility, rebuilt the north fence line, and added the new calving barn to name a few. Lots different now.”

He’s got a point. I don’t have to like it, but he’s got a point.

West heads for the door, pausing with his hand on the frame. He glances back with the faintest hint of amusement in eyes the same shade of green as my own. “If she needs a tour guide, I’d recommend June.”